“Gentlemen, there has been a misunderstanding.” They close in and reach for her, but Earl moves in front of them, shoving her backward into the bar.
“No! She's a friend of mine. We’re having a drink.” One of the men punches Earl and knocks him out cold. Summer jerks and watches as Victor begins to fight his way to her.
The fools have mistaken him for a gentleman. Victor trained and fought on ships against foreign and domestic enemies, a few drunks will not be a problem. His roar of rage rips through the room, and the music stops. Victor vaults onto the top of a small table scattering drinks and playing cards, he leaps down behind the three men. Summer is stunned at the rage in his eyes. Here is a man willing to fight for her.
“Step away from her,” he orders in a deep growl, and the three men turn to size him up.
“Three against one are bad odds to my way of thinkin.” Excitement floats in the air as someone begins to chant, “Fight, fight, fight,” and a cheer rings out.
Summer grabs the whiskey bottle Earl was pouring from and takes a swig, then decides they are right, it is unfair odds. With that thought, she smashes the bottle over the nearest greasy head. The man crumples to the ground, and Victor uses the distraction to attack.
He barrels straight into the leader of the three, slamming him back into the second man who is reaching for Summer. The two men fly backward into the wooden bar with a loud crash. Summer leaps back in surprise and watches as they roll around on the ground. The leader being larger pulls Victor up from the ground, wrapping him in a headlock. The second attacker punches Victor hard in the stomach. A grunt of pain escapes his lips as the man draws back to hit him again. He feels the arms holding him loosen a little as the bastard laughs thinking he has him.
Victor has had enough, he throws all his weight into the man holding him and kicks the smaller man in the face sending him screaming over backward across a table with a crash of glass and wood. The man holding Victor stumbles back under the weight and slips on the spilled whiskey and glass, falling to the ground. He screams as the broken glass sinks into his back and Victor begins to beat him with hammer blows of his fists. Summer makes a run for the stairs, intent on getting to Jonah.
“Where you going, love? You trying to take our work from us?” A painted girl says, stepping in front of her and shoving her back. Three of her friends join her.
“You must be joking, get out of my way.” Summer laughs at the ridiculousness of this situation.
Fury flicks across the girl’s face, and she moves to attack Summer, but Jonah screams from behind them and runs into Summer's arms.
“Easy Jonah, I’ve got you.” She lifts him into her arms and turns to look at the women. “This has been a misunderstanding. We only want to get to our room.” Her gaze pleads for understanding and the girl’s eyes flick from Summer to Jonah cowering in her arms.
Victor stands and steps away from the bloody man on the ground. The man is alive, but no longer a threat to them so he moves to the bar. Everyone backs away from him as he shoots back a glass of whiskey the bartender slides to his waiting hand. He slams the glass down on the wooden counter before stomping back towards his family.
“Let’s go.” He pushes Summer in front of him and up the stairs as everyone moves away. The music starts back up as the attackers are tossed outside the bar onto the main deck.
They move up the second flight of stairs to the third deck and down a long hallway.
“Here we are.” Victor stops in front of a door and steps inside a large stateroom. It is smaller than they are used to, but it is the only cabin with a separate bunk for Jonah. The large glass door illuminates the cabin with much-needed light. “We have a private washroom, which most cabins do not come with.”
“We are towards the rear of the ship. All of the staterooms have doors leading to outdoor decks for safety reasons,” his voice fades away as he realizes he is rambling. He closes the door and slides the lock shut before turning to look at the two of them. “Jonah, are you okay?” Victor asks.
“They were gonna hurt you?” Jonah whispers and Victor reaches for him, but he turns away and buries his face in Summer’s neck.
“No, they were going to try to hurt me.” He tosses his coat over a chair. “Son, I am sorry you had to witness that, but you should know that I would do anything to keep you safe.”
“I know Daddy,” comes his mumbled voice.
“Victor, you should get cleaned up.” Summer suggests and places Jonah on the bed. He stomps to the washroom and closes the door quietly. When he looks at his reflection, he is shocked at the rage still simmering in his eyes. He grabs a cloth to wash the blood and whiskey from his body. His hands tremble from the need to beat the men again for threatening his family. The shirt he is wearing is ruined. It is only after he removes it that he realizes it is ripped and covered in blood and whiskey. His back is burning, and he turns to look he sees he has a piece of glass stuck out of the upper part of his shoulder. “Damn,” he swears softly.
Summer removes her coat and holster with the pistol still in it and hangs it
