“Customers through the front, pal.” A short, haggard looking woman with a broom in her hand barked at him as he stepped through the door. “Unless you’re the new bouncer Merle hired. They never tell me anything.”
Rogan remained silent, staring down at the woman. She had some kind of lit stick in her mouth with smoke coming out of the far end and from her thin lips as she spoke.
“Big mute brute, are you?” She went on, puffs of smoke accompanying each word. “You’ve gotta be the bouncer then, go this way, takes you to the bar counter.”
Rogan nodded his thanks and headed in the direction she showed. He could hear her grumbling about something as he cautiously made his way through the cluttered passage. He felt sure that Nostrazcus was watching him and enjoying himself.
“And who the heck are you?” The thin man behind the counter jerked up as Rogan walked up beside him. “No one but the barman is allowed back here.”
“I am the bouncer.” Rogan said, eyeing the man cautiously.
“And I am Bruce Lee.” The thin man gritted his teeth. “I know the new bouncer Merle hired and you ain’t him.”
“The woman in the back said…” Rogan pointed back the way he came.
“Merle is in charge here, not that old crone.” The thin bartender sneered. “Now get out before I call the wrath of God on your head.”
“You remind me of the accursed wizard.” Rogan snarled, aggravated by the man’s arrogance. “I think you are him… hiding behind an illusion.”
“Are you some kinda loon, pal?” The barman yelled, getting everyone’s attention toward the counter. “Get a load of this guy; bet he’s looking for some free brew.”
“I’m looking for a way back to Kirk…” Rogan began and found himself staring at the thick end of a wooden cudgel.
“You show him whose boss, Lenny.” Someone shouted from the seated crowd.
“This here’s a Louisville Slugger, baby.” The barman grinned. “Now beat it, before I slug you for a homer.”
“Surely you jest.” Rogan laughed back.
“I just what?”
“To think you can best me with that child’s toy.” Rogan laughed aloud.
“Watch me, bub.” The barman growled and swung the baseball bat in a wide arc, aimed for the taller man’s head.
Rogan parried the blow with his left forearm, and at the same time grabbed the man’s skinny neck with his huge right hand, lifting him clean off the floor.
“Hey, that weirdo’s got Lenny.” He heard a voice roar. “He’s hurting him something bad.”
“Let’s get that sonnovabiatch.” Another yelled. “Show him who he’s messing with.”
Even though he didn’t follow the words he heard, Rogan knew their hostile intent. Turning to face the half dozen brawny men getting off their seats and coming for him, he hurled the skinny barman over the counter, sending him sprawling into the first two men racing up. Vaulting over the wooden divide, Rogan dived into the remaining attackers; his heavy fists bringing each one down with a single blow to the face.
Within moments the seven were lying on the ground around his feet, groaning and whimpering. Rogan’s steel-eyed stare scanned the room at the others who had all stood up from their tables.Some of them were moving away towards the exit. He realized then that he was in some kind of tavern or eating house.
“Is there anyone else who would deem fit to fight me?” He roared. “Is this the best you can do, wizard? As ever, only cowards and misfits serve you.”
“Take it easy, big guy.” A short squat man in an old dark grey coat called out to him with his hands raised in a peaceful gesture. “Ain’t no one left here to fight. You took out the entire muscle this place has.”
“What is this place and who are you?” Rogan glared down at the older man.
“New around here, I see.” The short man smiled, walking up gingerly. “This is Billy Dagote’s Bar and Grill and I’m Rip O’Malley.”
“I am Rogan of Kirk Falls.” The warrior bowed slightly, keeping an eye on the other man.
“Pleased to meet you, Rogan O’Kirkfalls.” O’Malley smiled. “It does my heart good to meet someone back from the old home country.”
“Home?” Rogan stared at the smaller man. “Are you too from Kirk Falls?”
“Never heard of the place, lad.” O’Malley smiled wide. “But I know ye’re from old Ireland, judging by that sweet accent.”
“Aye, that I am, and from the fair town of Kirk Falls.” Rogan nodded.
“If you say so.” O’Malley grinned. “You look like you could use a drink. Can I buy you something, Rogan?”
“Aye, I am in need of drink… and food.” Rogan suddenly realized that he was hungry, but he eyed the man with some suspicion.
“It’s all good, folks. He’s from my old hometown, just a bit lost and confused.” O’Malley waved at the others in the bar. “He’s sorry about this bit of misunderstanding. Lenny’ll be fine and so will the others.”
“If you say so, Rip.” One of the few still in the bar replied. “You’re the man.”
After a few minutes, Rogan found himself sitting at table with a large pitcher of what tasted somewhat like Ale and a platter of roasted pork. He ate the food and downed a few large mugs of the bitter drink, feeling a lot better since he had woken up.
“You’re an Irishman all right.” O’Malley laughed. “No one else can down that many Beers and eat as much red meat in such short notice.”
“To your good health.” Rogan smiled, raising a large mug before downing it in one go.
“And to loads of money.” O’Malley’s blue eyes glittered. “Tell me, Rogan, what is it that you do back in Falkirk?”
“You mean Kirk Falls…” Rogan corrected. “I am just a mere fighter there.”
“A fighter!” The other man nodded. “Then you’re in luck, old boy. For I am looking for a man just like you.”
“What for, O’Malley?” Rogan narrowed his green eyes at the man and sharply cricked his muscular neck.
“To fight and make money.” O’Malley said with a shrug.
“But I just wish to get back to Kirk Falls.” Rogan shook his fiery blond head. “I know not how I came to be here, but I must find my way back.”
“Oh, you will. But to get you back to Ireland from here, you need to have money.” O’Malley patted the larger man’s muscle-bound arm. “And I’m guessing you haven’t any on you.”
“Aye, I have no gold to my name, so I must find work.” The warrior knight admitted with a rueful smile.
“Yeah, ain’t that the truth.” O’Malley put on his sage face. “No work, no money, no nothing.”
“What work can I find here?” Rogan eyed him closely.
“The same you do back home… fight.” The shorter man shrugged. “There’s good money for fighters here too. As well as certain other perks and bonuses for a man of your amazing abilities.”
“Aye, but do you think I might do well doing that here too.” Rogan cocked his fiery blonde head.
“I’ve just seen you down seven big men in less than twenty seconds.” O’Malley shook his eyes and smiled. “I’m sure you’ll do very well, for you and for me.”
“Where is the Duke of this Billy Dagote’s Bar for whom I must fight?” Rogan took a deep breath and sighed, deciding to play along with this stranger until he got a better bearing of where he was.
“Duke?” Oh, yeah… I get what you mean.” O’Malley smiled in amusement. “Leave all that to me. If you’re up to it, I can take you to meet the... er… Duke right away.”
“That would be splendid.” Rogan grinned, picking his teeth.
“Yeah, wouldn’t that now.” O’Malley grinned back. “And this bar is Billy Dagote’s… this city, or town, is called New York.”
“New York?” Rogan looked bemused. “I have been to York, but this is nothing like it. It looks old and desolate. Nothing about this place in new.”
“Haven’t been around much have you.”O’Malley laughed
. “But leave that to old Rip the Gyp here and soon you’ll be a king of New York.”
“A king?” Rogan smiled to himself. “Why not, I am already a knight, am I not?”
~ ~ ~
CHAPTER FOUR
“1985?” Rogan looked confused. “Surely you jest.”
“Well, Rip Van Winkle.” The other man laughed. “Did you just wake up from the last century?”
Four centuries, more liken to, Rogan thought silently. A chill descended over him. The damned wizard had sent him away through time and space, four hundred years into the future. He was surprised enough to see that carriages did not need horses here when O’Malley brought him over to meet this duke. Along the way, he did have his doubts about it being a question of not just where, but also when he had been sent. This was not Hell and he was not dead, but it was close enough. It was the distant future and he might as well have been dead. He stood silently staring out of the window of the large edifice O’Malley had brought him to, wondering about how he would find a way to get back home - back to his beloved Alicia when four hundred years separated them. There had to be a counter spell. And he would find it; even if he had to live through eternity.
“You sure about this guy, Rippy?” The fat man asked O’Malley in a low tone. “He has the build and feel for a good fighter, but he also looks kinda spaced out to me. Is he some kinda druggie?”
“He’s on the level, Eddie. Trust me. I’ve seen this guy fight. He’s gonna make us rich,” the short man said excitedly. “I think he’s hit his head a bit too often and has some kinda short term memory loss about his past.”
“Yeah?” Eddie Vance looked amused. “That’s perfect for us then. No back story, no police record, I think we got us a golden goose here then, ‘ey Rippy?”
“More than you know, Eddie.” O’Malley rubbed his hands together. “More than you know.”
“Really?” Vance smirked. “Then, why don’t you tell him to show me what he can do.”
“You want him to show you? Have you got someone he can spar with?” O’Malley looked around the seedy room.
“How about he lays one on you, so I can see if he throws the right kind of punches.” Vance grinned at the short man.
“Yeah?” O’Malley laughed. “I ain’t got a death wish, Ed. I’ve seen him fight. How about you let him pop you one instead?”
“You think I ain’t got the nuts for it, shorts.” Vance sneered. “I was a fighter before I got into promoting. Come on, big guy, show me what you got.”
Rogan glared at the fat man waving his pudgy fists at him. He was amused, but didn’t show it. Instead, he rammed his huge right fist down the edge of the large wooden table in the centre of the room. The tremendous impact made the table fly up towards him. The huge warrior followed up with a second, rapid fire straight left, splintering the wood right down the middle. Wide eyed at the speed and power he witnessed, Vance staggered backward and fell hard on the floor.
“Y-y-you were on t-t-the level, Rippy.” Vance stood up shakily. “Let’s get him on right away. I’ve got a fight set in half an hour for old Ramirez against that guy from Portland. I’ll drop Ramirez and set your boy up for that. Call the bets at 3-1; let’s see what he can do in a real fight.”
“He can get us rich. Make it 5-1, Ed.” O’Malley grinned. “Come on, Rogan, let’s roll, baby.”
“Where are we going?” The warrior knight raised an eyebrow.
“Heck, I love that musical accent.” Vance laughed nervously as he quickly stepped out of the door. “Reminds me of that old highlander movie…”
“We’re going down to the basement to take on the best underground fighters in the business.” O’Malley told Rogan with a look of seriousness on his pudgy face.
“How much gold do I get from a fight?” Rogan wanted to know.
“Well, about that.” The shorter man smiled and held out a few ten dollar bills. “Gold isn’t used as currency over here in this city.We use paper money like these and coins made of Nickel.”
“These pieces of parchment are of more value than gold?” Rogan examined the dollar bills closely.
“You bet, lad.” O’Malley grinned. “And we’re going to get us millions of it.”
Rogan nodded silently, not wishing to argue on the ways and norms of a place he knew nothing about. His head felt heavy and his heart heavier still. He was a clever man with a strong will, keeping his wits about himself where a lesser man would lose his mind in such a grave situation. Rogan steeled himself and decided to take one thing at a time. Patience and planning, he knew, would always bear fruit when the time would come.
Quietly, he followed O’Malley and Vance down the stairs that led to an area under the building where the carriages without horses were kept. O’Malley called them cars. Rogan didn’t ask further, just nodding his acknowledgement. They walked through the dimly lit area and went down another much wider set of steps. Rogan could hear the sounds of cheers and curses coming from below as they made their way down.
“Hey, Vance.” A tall, slender man wearing a strange red hat walked up to them. “Ramirez better be up to speed this time. Kilburn wants his money back.”
“He’ll get it and more, Josh.” O’Malley grinned. “And Ramirez ain’t fighting tonight; we’re breaking in our new guy.”
“Hey, that’s gonna piss off some of the bookies, man.” Josh whined. “Switching fighters like that in less than twenty four hours.”
“Ramirez is out with the flu,” Vance grated. “Now get lost and tell Kilburn we got his money.”
“What odds you setting?” The lanky messenger asked, eyeing the tall blonde warrior with suspicion.
“Five to one on my boy here.” Vance replied. “It’s a fair run for a new face.”
“These fights are wagered?” Rogan looked at O’Malley.
“Absolutely, lad. That’s how we make the money.” The little man grinned.
“Then put a hundred coins on me.” The warrior knight’s green eyes gleamed.
“You mean a hundred dollars, right?” Josh looked at Rogan in surprise.
“He means a ten grand, baby.” O’Malley patted the taller man on the back.
“For his first ever fight? He’s freaking delusional.” The lanky man’s eyes went wide.
“I’ve seen him fight, and soon so will you.” O’Malley winked.
“Yeah, he’s a big guy and all, but Kilburn will go with Portland.” Josh sneered. “That guy’s a fighter… 29 to nothing, that’s a record to beat.”
“Where is my foe?” Rogan demanded, cracking his knuckles. “Let us be done with this.”
“Here he comes.” Vance pointed to a car driving up and completing the circle that made the fight arena.
The doors opened and three heavy set men stepped out. One of them held the door open and another man, larger than the three, emerged. He looked around coldly. The scar running down the left side of his face stood out white against his tanned skin. He was as tall as Rogan and almost as muscular. His bare upper body was covered with tattoos of dragons, naked women and thorny vines.
“Think you can beat him?” O’Malley whispered to Rogan.
“I have bested bigger and better men.” The warrior replied with a grin. “Be prepared to collect our fee.”
“Oh, I love your optimism, Irishman. This guy ain’t no table.” Vance laughed. “You’d better have the skill to match that mouth.”
“He does.” O’Malley reiterated for the umpteenth time with a sigh.
“Our next fight tonight, folks,” a loud voice announced, “features a newcomer to the underground arena with no history or record, a total rookie, at five to one odds, please welcome Rogan, the fighting Irishman.”
Boos and cheers filled the rank air while some clapped their hands as Rogan raised a massive fist in acknowledgement. The announcer went on to introduce his opponent from Portland, extolling his wins and records for all to cheer. Rogan’s keen eyes watched the man, noting anything that would look like a weakness
he could exploit.
“All right, fighters… let’s get it on.” The voice of the announcer boomed.
His mouth twisted by a bull-like bellow, the tattooed fighter lunged for Rogan with both hands reaching for his neck. With a smile on his handsome face, the blond warrior kissed the bright amulet on his neck and deftly sidestepped the man, letting him crash headlong into one of the parked cars.
Choosing Hearts - The Fighter's Passion (Gritty, Explicit Romance Novel) (A Lusty Stand Alone Story) Page 6