She shrugged. “I—I don’t really know—“
“Because I’m a boxer.” He smiled again. “What about your boyfriend?” he said. His accent was thick but he spoke perfectly reasonable English.
“What about him?” she said.
“He looks like a fucking twat,” Karl replied, grinning. He glanced back and she saw that he had a couple of goon friends watching nearby.
Nicole’s heart started to speed up. She didn’t want Red to come back and see this idiot giving her a hard time. “I really should go,” she said.
“Why?” Karl asked. “You one of those stuck up Americans?”
“No. But you’re being rude and you’re frightening me.”
Karl smiled. “Awww, I’m really nice, sweetie. I swear I am. And I got a big motherfucking schwanz, too.”
“Get away from me,” she said, as he leaned in.
That’s when Red appeared, pushing through the crowd. When he saw Karl on his stool his eyes turned cold and hard and she knew he was furious. “Are you okay, Nicole?” he called out, not taking his eyes off the punk.
“Yes,” she said.
Karl turned, saw Red and grinned. He stood up, and he was big, at least as big as Red. On top of that, he looked mean, as though he fought a lot and quite enjoyed it. Nicole realized that he hadn’t truly been interested in her at all—talking to her had merely been a means to an end. He’d wanted to start a problem with her boyfriend.
“Red, don’t do anything,” she said, getting up and grabbing his shirtsleeve.
“Did he touch you?” Red asked, his eyes still unwavering.
She leaned in to talk to him. “He didn’t touch me, and besides, he’s a boxer. He wants to fight you.”
Karl grinned at Red, mocking him with wide eyes. “What a fucking twat you look like,” he said. Behind them, his friends laughed and closed in.
“You box?” Red asked.
“Enough to knock the teeth out of rich American faggots.”
Red grinned and nodded. “Good for you, man.”
“Good for me, not so good for you, son.” Karl took another step closer.
Red put out a hand and lightly pushed Nicole out of the way, and she knew something was going to happen.
And then it did, as if in slow motion and fast-forward all at once.
Karl threw a quick punch that caught Red on the nose, snapping his head back. Nicole screamed.
And then Red threw two powerful punches. One of them landed on Karl’s chin and the other seemed to hit his temple. His head flashed back as if he’d been shot, and the big German dropped like a sack of potatoes.
Karl’s friends grabbed Red and tried to throw him to the ground. Red swung an elbow back and smashed one of them in the nose, knocking him over like a bowling pin.
Yet another attacker punched Red in the face.
Red kicked him in the stomach, grabbed him by the hair, and planted a powerful punch down onto the side of his face, causing him to fall to the floor. Red delivered yet another kick to his ribs. Then he spun on the remaining friend, who threw up his arms and babbled in broken English for Red not to hurt him.
“Come on, Nicole,” Red said, taking her by the arm and leading her outside.
They hailed a cab just as three or four large and menacing men came running out of the bar behind them. As the cab drove away, beer bottles smashed on the hood and the street next to them.
And then they were out of reach.
The cab driver’s eyes were wide and spooked.
Red spoke to him in German and quickly handed him a wad of cash for his troubles.
He held Nicole close, she buried her face in his chest.
“I’m sorry I brought you to that shithole,” he said, eventually.
“I told you I didn’t want to stay there,” she cried.
“I should have listened. I was being an asshole.”
“Yeah, you were.” She sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes. “You can’t do that to me again.”
He nodded. His nose was bleeding, a slight trickle down from one nostril, and she grabbed a tissue from her purse and wiped the blood away.
“I don’t deserve you,” he said.
When they got back to their hotel room, she looked at him. “We need to talk,” she said.
“Yeah?” he sat down heavily on the couch and put the TV on.
“I think you should reconsider Kane Wright’s offer.”
He laughed.
“I’m serious,” she said.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Why would you even say such a thing to me?”
“Because,” she told him, walking closer, “I don’t think you could stand to lose Jameson International completely.”
“Well maybe I don’t have a choice.”
“But you do. You—“
“Nicole, don’t push me on this,” he growled.
“All I said was you should consider it. Maybe Kane Wright is a bastard, but the other possibility is that you lose your company and go crazy. You’re already acting out, fighting, drinking. I won’t stand for it, Red.”
He didn’t reply.
“So now you’re going to ignore me?”