“Get the hell away from my wife!” Christopher bellowed as he stepped
forward, closing the distance between him and Giovanni so he could draw the other man away from Katerina.
“She is mine,” the dark-haired man roared.
“She's not,” Christopher snarled through his teeth.
“You stole her from me,” Giovanni accused, pointing a finger into
Christopher's chest.
“I saved her from you,” Christopher corrected, knocking the hand away and
crowding even closer to his adversary. He could hear his blood pounding in his head.
“Why?” Giovanni sneered.
“Because I love her, you miserable bastard! You could have killed her!” He
dared a glance back towards his wife and his stomach clenched. Don't lose control, Christopher. You can't help her if you're not thinking straight. Embrace the cold.
“I am not a bastard!” Giovanni shrieked. “And she is mine. My child. My property. Mine she to discipline.”
“Not anymore. Now she's mine to defend. You hurt my wife. My God, you
could have hurt our baby.” Christopher closed in on his adversary again. He didn't say another word. Instead, he drove a furious fist into Giovanni's jaw, quickly followed by another blow, this time to the gut.
Giovanni doubled over.
“ Your wife's brother fought you when he was sixteen and won. He was a child, you fool, strong, but surely untrained and inexperienced. Let's see how you fare against someone who knows what he's doing.”
Christopher's cold rage flared into heat, a fire that sought to consume his enemy until his lifeblood drained across the floor. Without another word, he brought every one of his skills to bear now and inflicted on his father-in-law the
thrashing of a lifetime.
He kept hitting the older man long after he fell to the floor in surrender, submitting in terror to a shower of blows from which he could not escape.
He would undoubtedly have beaten Giovanni to death had not James and
Colin finally pulled him back.
“That's enough, Chris,” Colin said softly, “you'll kill him.”
“He deserves it,” Christopher snarled, wrenching his arms against his friends'
grip.
“I know, but you need to stop,” James urged.
“He hurt her!”
“He did,” Colin agreed. “It's terrible. It should never have happened, but don't kill him. Don't become a murderer. Come, you need to see to your wife.”
“What about this piece of shit?” Christopher poked at his father-in-law with
his toe.
“I'll take care of him,” James volunteered. “Go on, Chris. Katerina needs you.”
“Listen now, Valentino.” Standing menacingly over his father-in-law's
twitching body, Christopher spoke in a voice cold enough to freeze a steam boiler. “If I ever see your sorry arse again, even by accident, you will die.”
He let his friend lead him away.
James looked down at the beaten man and shook his head. “Well, Mister
Valentine,” he said sarcastically, intentionally mispronouncing his name, “you're
certainly in a world of trouble now. I've never seen him this angry. You'd better
get the hell out of England while you can and pray to God Katerina and the baby
both come through, or I'm quite sure he will hunt you down to the ends of the earth and disembowel you alive."
He realized he had blood on his trousers. Disgusting. "You know… there's a ship leaving for America in the morning. Maybe you should plan to be on it.
