Like a brick wall, he was very definitely trying to prevent Jonas from rendezvousing with Deanna.
Apparently so.
As she watched, Jonas reacted to whatever Mark was saying. A flicker of something like fear flashed in his eyes, and he shook his head. It looked like he was saying, “You don’t understand,” but she couldn’t be sure.
Mark set a hand on the other man’s chest, and a touch of anger, then defiance, showed on Jonas’s face. She decided the time had come to intervene and hurried over to her friend.
“What the hell is Mark doing?” Deanna demanded when Lauren reached her.
“Picking a fight, it looks like,” Lauren said. She looked back toward the table. Heidi had taken her own advice and was oblivious to on the tension on their side of the room; she was talking to their waiter, laughing, showing him her engagement ring.
To be fair to Heidi, very few of the patrons seemed to notice that anything was going on. The music had stopped, and the lead singer was talking about the history of jazz in New Orleans, and most people’s focus was on him. She looked at the big man she’d seen twice today.
He had noticed what was going on and was closely watching the two men.
And speaking softly to someone on his cell phone.
She returned her gaze to the action right in front of her. Mark had a hand on Jonas’s arm now, and his expression was tense as he used his other hand to indicate a hallway that led to the back.
“They’re going to go outside and fight!” Deanna said, incredulous.
Could Deanna be right? Lauren wondered.
Jonas started in that direction. Mark followed. Deanna stared.
Lauren pushed past her, aggravated that Mark’s protective attitude was getting out of hand.
She made her way to the hallway, past the restrooms and a delivery of beer, and out the back to a small courtyard with scattered tables, which was only half filled with people. The wrought iron gate from the courtyard to the alley was ajar.
Lauren raced forward, pushing through it and catching up to the two men.
“You don’t know anything,” Jonas insisted to Mark, who had pushed the younger man up against a wall. “You don’t know
“I intend to.”
“I’m not your enemy.”
“You’re one of them.”
“Mark!” She ran up and put a hand on his shoulder. He stiffened, teeth grating, face taut with fury and tension as he turned to her.
“Get out of here, Lauren. Now.”
“I am not going to let you beat this man to a pulp,” she said.
“Excuse me,” Jonas interjected. “I’m not exactly a weakling,” he said with a touch of indignation.
Mark turned back to him, and Jonas started to take a swing at him, but Mark was too fast. He blocked the blow coming his way, then counter jabbed. Jonas took his fist in the jaw and sagged.
“Stop it!” Lauren shouted.
“He’s asked for it,” Jonas insisted. Something in his eyes—in his entire demeanor—seemed to change.
He let out a hissing sound and flew toward Mark.
Lauren heard movement behind her. She swung around, expecting Deanna to go rushing past her into the fray.
But it wasn’t Deanna.
It was the sax player.
“I’ve called the cops,” he snapped. “So take your beef out of here—now!”
He had a beer in his hand and threw it at the men. It looked to Lauren as if a haze appeared between her and the men, like a mist, or a fog, rising in the shadows. She heard a hiss of fury but couldn’t tell where—or who—it came from.
She could hear sirens wailing. Bourbon was closed off to normal traffic at night, but the next thing she knew, cop cars were pulling up on the cross street, and two mounted officers rode into the alley, as well.
“Fight over there,” the sax player said, pointing.
“Where?” one of the mounted officers asked.
“Right there!” Lauren said impatiently, facing him fully, then turning back toward the spot where the two men had been.
But no one was there. Somehow, in the dimly lit alley, with nowhere for them to go, Mark and Jonas had managed to disappear.
She heard a car door open and close. Aplainclothes police officer, tall, graying at the temples, but with steel blue eyes and an attitude as powerful as his size, was striding into the alley.
