“A brawler since his early teens, he had never been bested since the day he walloped his brutal, drunken father and ran away from home. A man who stood a good three inches shorter and at least thirty pounds lighter would be an easy mark. Or so thought Rafer Diggins when he launched himself away from the bar. A laughing companion shouted encouragement. “Go git him, Rafe.” Rafe puffed himself up on fighting rage and deep breaths as he closed on Smoke. The brawny barroom tough cocked a ham fist bac...k by his ear, prepared to knock the lights out of this lawdog. Grinning, Smoke Jensen waited for it. When the punch came, Smoke did not move his body. He jinked his head to the side, and the fist whistled past. Then he unloaded with a low, right uppercut. It buried to the wrist in the beer gut that leaned vulnerably toward him. Diggins had time for one groan as his eyes bulged and the air gusted out of his lungs. Then Smoke laid a hard left to the side of the bigger man’s jaw. Stars exploded before Rafe Diggins’ eyes as his feet went out from under him and he landed on his axe-handle broad rear.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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