Angel

Chapter 16

Angel ordered another whiskey and turned to survey the room. The Last Keg Saloon was quiet for a Saturday night, but then, it wasn’t the only saloon in town, and Angel had avoided the more lively ones out of habit.

A couple of tables had card games going, but he didn’t feel like trying to join one. He felt like getting drunk and taking one of the three girls who worked the room upstairs for the night. One was even pretty, and he couldn’t deny he needed a woman, especially after spending the past three nights with only a wall separating him from a woman he was increasingly finding too damn desirable.

He wouldn’t get drunk, however, at least not in a public place. That would be careless, and Angel was rarely careless. And he hadn’t made up his mind yet about buying a woman for the night. The need was there, but his interest in what was available didn’t remain for long.

That was surprising in itself. He wasn’t usually discriminating where women were concerned. A warm, soft body that was willing had always been enough to satisfy him. Now he was devoting too many thoughts to one particular woman, something else he’d never done before, and it was starting to irritate the hell out of him. That, among other things.

He didn’t like what he was feeling lately. What he’d felt after shooting Slater the other day was a prime example — too much satisfaction. He’d never experienced actual pleasure in killing a man before, and he wasn’t sure why he had this time. It had been primitive, what he’d felt. He hadn’t liked it that the man had attempted to bed Cassie. He really hadn’t liked that. But the only reason he could figure that that had been part of the satisfaction was because she was under his protection. Nothing else made sense.

Angel was on his third and last drink when Morgan MacKauley walked in. Stumbled in, was more accurate. He’d obviously hit the bottle himself tonight, and pretty heavily. And he wasn’t alone. He had one of his brothers with him, the second oldest by the look of him. Angel couldn’t recall what name Cassie had give that brother, but he supposed he might be finding out, since both men headed in his direction as soon as Morgan spotted him at the bar.

“Well, if it ain’t Miss Stuart’s fianc�,” Morgan sneered. “Brown, was it?”

Angel set his glass down to free both hands. The brothers were crowding him, and Morgan’s expression contained an emotion resembling pure dislike.

“The name’s Angel.”

“Yeah, so I been hearing. Angel Brown.”

“Just Angel.”

Morgan rocked back on his heels. Angel didn’t think the action was intentional. The man ought to be in bed, sleeping it off, instead of looking for trouble.

“You saying Cassie lied?”

“No, only that I go by Angel and nothing else.”

“Ah, hell,” Richard MacKauley said at that point. “Let it go, little brother.”

“Stay out of—”

Morgan was abruptly cut off when the older MacKauley hauled him aside to whisper furiously in his ear. There was a slight grappling as Morgan chose to ignore what his big brother had to say.

He was actually being restrained in a bear hug when he looked at Angel and bellowed, “Is that right? They call you the Angel of Death?”

If everyone’s attention hadn’t been on them already, it was now. Angel didn’t move a muscle. “Some folks are foolish enough to do so.”

Morgan was apparently too drunk and too riled up to take the hint. “What the hell’s a killer like you doing asking a lady to marry him?”

A damn good question. It wasn’t something Angel would do under any circumstances. The very idea was ludicrous. No lady in her right mind would have him, and he had a bit too much pride to leave himself open to that kind of humiliating rejection. But because this particular lady was a meddler who told outlandish lies that some idiots actually believed, he was stuck with answering the question — or not. He opted for not, to save both himself and Cassie embarrassment.

“How’s it any of your business, MacKauley?”

Someone else in the room was drunk enough to call out, “He was gonna marry her hisself!”

Morgan swung around, taking his brother with him, since Richard was still holding him. But he couldn’t locate the culprit who’d turned him red-faced with that bit of information. And it was still Angel he wanted to fight, so he swung back again and in the process put some serious effort into breaking his brother’s hold.

Angel braced himself. He debated whether to draw and end the coming fight before it started. But the feeling he’d had earlier in the week, that he deserved some sort of retribution, was still with him. He hefted his gun and handed it to the man behind the bar.

“Can you manage to keep it fair?”

The barkeep didn’t need to be told what “it” was. “Won’t be nothin‘ fair about it if you take on Morgan,” he said with a complacent nod. “I’d be appreciative, though, if you’d take it outside.”

“I’m willing, but I don’t think he’s open to the suggestion.”

At the moment, Morgan was telling his brother, “Let go, damn you, Richard. I’m not going to shoot him, I’m just going to break some of his bones.”

He ended with a mighty heave that gained his release, only to send him stumbling forward. Having decided after what he’d just heard that it wouldn’t be in his best interests to wait for Morgan to throw the first punch, Angel lifted his knee to meet him. And while the larger man was doubled over, Angel followed with a down-swinging right.

That should have put Morgan on the floor. With anyone else it might have, and ended it right there. But Morgan was over six feet tall with a hell of a lot of muscle to go with it. He was barely dazed. He was also too drunk to notice if any pain had been left behind. Angel wished he could say the same when Morgan came up swinging.

Ten minutes later he was wishing it again, though he was glad that Morgan had had too much to drink. He never would have beaten him otherwise, and he was kind of amazed that he’d managed to in the end. He’d merely gotten lucky with that last punch. Of course.

It was only by dint of will that he was still standing himself.

Angel put out his hand to the barkeep to retrieve his gun. The man handed it over, along with a bottle of whiskey and a grin.

“On the house, mister. It was a pure pleasure, watchin‘ Morgan lose for the first time. And never you mind the damages, either. I’ll take ’em up with his pa.”

Angel just nodded. Behind him, Richard MacKauley picked up a glass of beer from one of the tables that were still upright and was about to dump it in Morgan’s face. Angel took the bottle and left.

As much as he hurt, he actually felt better. He might even ask Miss Cassie to patch him up.