He set his glass down and straightened away from the bar. Three against one. Saint George might need some help slaying his dragons. He threw a few bills down on the bar and sauntered slowly after Gideon.
"Get the hell out of here!"
Gideon dumped the girl in the backseat of the jeep and jumped in beside her.
Tables and chairs were crashing and splintering in the bar behind them while Concepcion roared Spanish obscenities above the curses of the brawling patrons of her establishment. Gideon grinned with enjoyment and admiration. Concepcion had a magnificent vocabulary.
Ross jumped into the driver's seat, jammed his foot on the gas, and the jeep lurched away from the curb. He cast a glance over his shoulder just as the door of the bar was thrown open, and Concepcion, herself, appeared on the sidewalk. Her curses reached a new high in inventiveness as she shook her fist at them. Ross grimaced. "She's furious at us. You do realize what a sacrifice I made in helping you pluck your little pullet from Concepcion's barnyard? She runs the best whorehouse on the island and she's not about to let either of us back in there after that brawl you started."
"It was the quickest way to get rid of those leeches who were fastened on the girl." Gideon shrugged. "A few indiscriminate punches and the whole place exploded." He leaned back in the seat and stretched his long legs as far as he could within the confines of the jeep. "And Concepcion will welcome you back as soon as she gets over her little tantrum. You're one of her best customers whenever you come to Mariba."