“So! Guess what I had waiting for me when I got here?” Bradley said loudly as Angela and Saul entered the La Palacio, his words slightly slurred. “Go on! Guess!”

 

“Bradley, are you drunk?” Angela asked.

 

“Not as drunk as I’m going to be! When I got here after you had me thrown off the set, I found out I had a summons to appear! That’s right! A fucking summons! Why you ask? They’re accusing me of filing a false police report!”

 

“Go to your room, Bradley,” Angela said. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

 

“Me? Not me! I’ll tell you who’s an embarrassment! You! Whoring around with some redneck white trash biker! I guess that shows—”

 

“That’s enough!” Saul said sharply, stepping in front of Angela, his mouth and eyes hard. “You’re drunk! Go sleep it off before your mouth gets you in trouble.”

 

“What are you going to do, tough guy? You going to take a swing at me? Go ahead! I’ll kick your fucking ass!”

 

“Let’s go,” Saul said, taking Angela by the arm and pulling her along. He didn’t want to create an even bigger scene in the lobby than Bradley already had. He led her to the stairs, not wanting to wait on the elevator.

 

“That’s what I thought! You’re nothing but a chicken shit!” Bradley yelled.

 

Saul stopped, but Angela tugged on him. “Don’t. He’s not worth it.”

 

He paused a moment more then started up the stairs again. “Yeah.”

 

She unlocked her door and they stepped in. “I don’t know what’s gotten into Bradley!”

 

“Other than a fifth you mean?”

 

She giggled. “Other than that, yeah.”

 

He shrugged. “I guess you hurt his feelings when you didn’t want to do the love scene with him, and then having the cops come down on him, I guess he’s having a bad day. Since he’s a big deal, he probably won’t get anything other than a slap on the wrist, but I think there’s little doubt now he’s playing some game. I’m more certain than ever he had something to do with the shooting and the gas line, though I’ll never be able to prove it.”

 

“Maybe not, but maybe he learned his lesson from this.”

 

“Maybe,” Saul agreed.

 

“I thought we’d stay here tonight, but after what happened downstairs, I don’t want to. Can we go back to your house?”

 

He grinned. “I might have to start charging you rent.”

 

She sauntered up and melted into him. “Can I work it out in trade?”

 

He chuckled then gave her a quick kiss as his arms slid around her. “I think we can work something out.”

 

She kissed him quickly on the lips then stepped back. “Let me get a change of clothes. Call is at seven in the morning.” She paused and made a disgusted sound. “At least we’re done with night shoots.”

 

She was pulling out a change of clothes when someone rapped on the door. “I’ve got it,” Saul said as he moving to the door and looked through the peep. “What do you want, Bradley?” he asked as he opened the door.

 

“I want to apologize to Angela.”

 

Saul wanted to punch him in the face, but stepped aside and allowed him to enter.

 

“Angela, I’m sorry for the what I said downstairs. I’m just trying to protect you and your career. Can’t you see that?”

 

“That’s why you said you took a gun off that guy when you didn’t? How’s that protecting me from anything?”

 

“I saw the gun! He was going to kill you!”

 

“Then why did the cops let him go?”

 

“I don’t know, but I know what I saw!”

 

“Save it, Bradley. I’m not buying your bullshit anymore.”

 

“You can’t talk to me like that!” he yelled taking a step toward her.

 

“Don’t,” Saul said, taking Bradley by the arm.

 

“Don’t you touch me, you redneck fucker!” he snarled, jerking his arm away. “I know what you’re doing and I’m not going to let you get away with it!” He turned his attention back to Angela. “You can do better than him! He’s only interested in what you can do for him! You think he could care about you? You’re black! You’ll never be anything to him except a nigger he can stick his cock into!”

 

“You can either walk out of this room right now or you can be carried out,” Saul said, his voice low and dangerous as Angela gasped in shock.

 

“Get out of my room!” she ordered, pointing at the door.

 

“You know what? Fuck you, whore! You’ll open your legs for anybody! You want a taste of the wild side? I should have fucked you for real in the cabin then—”

 

Angela took two quick steps forward, so angry she couldn’t think straight. “How dare you speak to me like that! Get out!”

 

Saul grabbed Bradley, intending to throw his ass out, but Bradley turned and shoved him hard away. “Touch me again and I’ll fucking kill you!”

 

“You’re welcome to try,” Saul growled, calling Bradley forward with the first two fingers on each hand.

 

“Bradley! No!” Angela screamed as Bradley charged Saul.

 

Saul was expecting the charge and was ready. He fired a hard right directly into Bradley’s face, but Bradley apparently wasn’t as drunk as he acted, or he held his liquor well, because he ducked part of the punch and slammed into Saul, driving him back into the wall.

 

“Stop it! Bradley! Stop!” Angela cried, then moved to a corner to stay out of the way, not knowing what else to do. She suspected Saul could take care of himself and he should make quick work of Bradley.

 

Saul drove off the wall, hooking an arm around the back of Bradley’s neck then drove two hard rights into his stomach, getting his shoulder and back into the second punch. Bradley backed off, doubled over at the waist and clutching his side. Saul followed, driving a devastating left uppercut into Bradley’s jaw. Bradley staggered then went to the floor on his ass before holding up a hand in surrender.

 

“Get the fuck out!” Saul snarled, standing over him with his fists still clenched. His left hand was hurting like a bitch, but he refused to try to shake the pain out in front of Bradley.

 

“Yeah,” Bradley gasped, wiping at his bloody lip and cheek. “Yeah, okay. Don’t hit me again,” he said as he slowly got to his feet.

 

Saul took a step back, letting him rise, but watched for any sudden movements.

 

“Sorry. Sorry,” Bradley said slowly as the turned for the door, then grabbed the large vase filled with fresh flowers sitting on the table and threw it at Saul.

 

Saul instinctively ducked and blocked with his arm, the heavy vase shattering on his arm, pieces of pottery flying and hitting him in the head as the water splashed in his face. He roared in pain, his forearm feeling like it had been smashed by the vase. Before he could recover, Bradley drove into him again, powering him to the floor. Saul bellowed in pain, landing on a piece of the vase hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He blocked with his arms a moment as he tried to collect himself, protecting his head from Bradley’s punches, then grabbed Bradley and pulled him down into a clench to stop the blows.

 

Angela had relaxed when Bradley surrendered, but her hands went back to her mouth as the two men tumbled over each other. Saul had a nasty a cut on his arm and the side of his face, both bleeding profusely as he forced Bradley over to his back.

 

Saul held Bradley, snarling in effort as he struggled to escape, waiting for his head to clear. He should have finished Bradley when he had the chance, and now he was hurt and rocked back on his heels. He released Bradley and threw himself back, scrambling to his feet and turning to face his opponent as Bradley scrambled after him.

 

“I gave you your chance, and now I’m going to fuck you up,” Saul sneered, stepping in and throwing a leading left jab then followed with a right cross which connected solidly with the side of Bradley’s head. Bradley staggered back, stunned by the blow. Saul followed, throwing a hard left right left combination that knocked Bradley down.

 

Bradley tried to recover, kicking backwards then trying to stagger to his feet, but Saul bore in and hauled him up by the front of his shirt with his left hand. Bradley threw a punch to Saul’s stomach, but the blow was weak, Bradley still stunned from Saul’s four devastating punches.

 

Saul hit him again, a crushing right to the temple which put Bradley on the floor again. “That’s for calling Angela a nigger,” he said as he dropped to his knees astraddle of Bradley. Bradley put up his hands but Saul batted them away and drove another hard right into his face, blood spraying from his shattered nose. “That’s for calling her a whore.”

 

Bradley stopped fighting and covered, trying to shield his face as Saul drew back his right again, intending to beat him unconscious, then hit him one more time for good measure.

 

“No!” Angela yelled, grabbing his arm. “He’s had enough!”

 

Someone started hammering on the door. “Angela? Are you okay? What’s going on in there? Open the door!” a man’s voice called as they hammered hard at the door again.

 

Saul got to his feet as Angela pulled on him, trying to drag him away from Bradley. Once he was on his feet, she dropped his arm and ran to the door, opening it.

 

Saul spat on Bradley. “And that’s for calling me a redneck,” he growled before he grimaced and held is right arm to his body as blood dripped onto the floor.

 

“What the fuck?” Ryan asked, pushing his way into the room as several other faces appeared in the doorway. “What the hell happened?’

 

“Bradley’s drunk! He attacked Saul!”

 

“Oh my God! Someone call an ambulance!” Ryan cried as he knelt at Bradley’s side as he struggled to sit up, wiping at his nose. “Saul! What have you done?”

 

“Saul?” Angela yelled. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? Bradley attacked him! Twice!”

 

“But look at his face!” Ryan cried, glancing between Angela and Bradley. “We can’t film with him looking like this! Someone call the cops!”

 

Angela stood, her mouth hanging open. “You’re worried about filming?” she yelled, her fist curling into fists. “What are you going to do?”

 

“I’m fucking filing charges,” Bradley muttered, still wiping his nose. “I didn’t do anything. I come in here to talk to Angela and this creep attacked me.”

 

“That’s not true!” Angela screamed, outraged Bradley was casting blame. “He’s drunk! He came in here and got nasty. Saul told him to leave and when he didn’t he started to escort him out. That’s when he freaked out!”

 

Ryan grimaced and looked at Bradley. Saul had beaten the shit out of him, and this was going to delay production for days. “We’ll let the cops sort it out.”

 

***

 

“Thank you, Ms. Moncrief,” Office Penbrooke said, taking her statement. He’d already collected the statements from the two men, but hers was by far the most thorough. Hoffman’s stated he’d simply come into talk to Angela and Houston had jumped him for no reason. Houston’s stated Bradley was drunk and had become belligerent and when he’d tried to escort him out, he’d attacked him.

 

He finished reading Angela’s statement and it more or less matched Houston’s. “Do you wish to press charges?” he asked Saul.

 

“What?” Ryan cried. “Saul beat the crap out of him! It’s Bradley who should be pressing charges!”

 

Penbrooke pursed his lips and nodded. Sometime people got exactly what they deserved, and from the look of Bradley’s face, Saul must have a punch that would knock down a horse. “I have two statements here which state Mr. Hoffman attacked Mr. Houston. In case you haven’t noticed, you can smell the alcohol on him and we already know Mr. Hoffman has a bit of a problem with the truth. I think I have a pretty clear picture of what happened here.”

 

“What do you mean?” Ryan asked, then looked down at Bradley as he sat on the bed.

 

“It appears Mr. Hoffman filed a false police report. Caused an apparently innocent man to have to spend a couple of nights in our fair town, courtesy of the City of Laredo. We don’t take kindly to that kind of behavior here in Texas, and we don’t like having our time wasted. We would like to have a word with him about it.”

 

Ryan continued to stare at Bradley. “What have you done?”

 

“Nothing. I haven’t done a fucking thing.”

 

“You remember the little incident with the gun?” Penbrooke asked Ryan. “Funny thing about that. We didn’t find any prints matching Mr. Harton’s on the gun.”

 

“He probably wiped them off,” Bradley said sullenly.

 

“Maybe. But since he said it wasn’t his gun, and nobody saw it but you, including people who had been standing beside him for over an hour, that kind of weakens your argument, doesn’t it?”

 

Ryan looked at Saul, his eyes pleading. “No. I don’t want to press charges,” Saul said.

 

“I guess we’re done here.” Penbrooke looked at Saul. “You sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”

 

“No,” Saul replied. “Just some cuts and scrapes. The paramedic fixed me up.”

 

Penbrooke nodded to Saul and Angela, then glared at Bradley. “We expect to see you tomorrow at the station.”

 

Ryan nodded. “He’ll be there.”

 

The moment Penbrooke was out of the room, Angela whirled on Ryan. “I’ll do my job, but you keep this asshole away from me, understand?” She looked at Bradley. “If you come near me again, I’ll tell everyone who will listen exactly what went on here, and if you ever all me a whore or a nigger again, I’ll cut your balls off. Got it?”

 

Bradley nodded.

 

“Get me out of here,” she snarled and stomped out of the room.

 

Saul bent over Bradley. “She might not cut your balls off, but I will,” he said softly then gave him a soft pat on the side of the face, causing Bradley to jerk his head away. “Sleep well, sunshine.”

 

***

 

“Damnit!” Saul muttered as he slipped out of his colors, his face twisting in pain. His arm and back hurt like a mother-fucker.

 

“Are you okay?” Angela asked as she helped him out of his jacket.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You don’t act okay.”

 

“He didn’t put a finger on me, but that damn vase!”

 

“Let me see,” she said as she helped him out of his shirt. There were no new cuts on his back, but he’d landed on the shard in the same place he’d previously cut his back, and the area around the cut was already beginning to bruise and swell.

 

“Your poor back,” she said, her mouth pulling down. She then held his arm up so she could see. The cut on his arm wasn’t large, but it was deep, and the bandage the paramedic had put on it already had a spot of blood on it from where it had soaked through. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “This is all my fault.”

 

“Don’t!” he said sharply. “Don’t even think shit like that. This isn’t your fault, it’s that fucking Bradley’s fault.” He tipped her eyes up to look at his. “I know you left coast types think Texans are nothing but a bunch of knuckle dragging Neanderthals, but we’re not. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met and the color of your skin makes you more beautiful still. You’re nothing like I thought you were when I first met you. You’re not only beautiful on the outside, but you’re beautiful on the inside, as well. Bradley was way out of line saying what he did, and it was my pleasure teaching him some manners.” He smiled at her as her eyes filled with tears. “We don’t cotton to men treating our fillies like that,” he said, laying on the Texas twang.

 

She sniffed out a laugh and wiped her eyes. “Am I your filly?”

 

He kissed her softly on the lips. “Starting to be.” He kissed her softly again then pulled back with a small smile. “But I don’t think I’m in any shape to be riding you tonight.”

 

She stared at him a moment then smiled, laying her head against his chest. She was struggling to hold her tears, touched by not only his words but his actions. She’d seen his eyes and face go hard when Bradley called her names, and he’d beaten the shit out of him for the insult. She thought she had thick skin, but she was still gratified Saul had kicked the shit out of him for saying it.

 

She sniffed then nodded her head against his chest. “That’s okay. I think I’d rather you just hold me anyway.”

 

He tipped her head up and smiled at her. “It’ll be my pleasure, little lady,” once again turning on the Texas accent. He held her eyes until she smiled. “There, that’s what I want to see,” he said, his voice back too normal before he softly took her lips in a slow and gentle kiss.