42. Facepunching Reunion

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Bam!

Mr Ambrose didn't hesitate an instant. The instant the giant figure had spoken, the muzzle of his gun flashed in the darkness—but the huge man was already on the move. With a roar, he slammed into the crate behind which the two of us were hiding, sending me toppling backwards. Mr Ambrose lunged, grabbing me just before I hit the floor. That distraction cost him. Before he could move another muscle, the giant was on us, lunging for Mr Ambrose's throat.

In a blink, my husband brought up his leg and rammed it into the big man's stomach. I heard a grunt, and the behemoth was sent flying. After only a few yards, he slammed into the ground with a thunderous crash.

Please stay down! Please stay down! Please stay down!

Faster than I would have thought possible, the massive man was back up on his feet. His hand went to his belt, and, a moment later, a huge blade flashed in the shadows, heading straight towards my husband's throa—

Clang!

Halfway, the blade stopped dead, halted by the sabre that had appeared in Mr Ambrose's hand.

"Vermin! You dare to resist?" a rumbling growl came out of the dark. "Die, scum!"

Mr Ambrose's answer came fast, hard and implacable. "No."

His foot lashed out and, snaking around the other man's leg, tugged hard. With a startled yell, the massive figure lost his footing and crashed to the floor again. Mr Ambrose's sword came down towards him—

Yes, yes, yes!

—only to slam against the tiles as the big bastard rolled to the side.

Dammit!

A kick from a leg the size of a tree-trunk sent my husband sailing backwards, and, before he could steady himself, the bloody giant was already upon him. A furious duel began, steel flashing in the darkness in a twisted whirlwind of death. I didn't rush to his aid. I didn't even dare step close for fear of startling Mr Ambrose at the wrong moment. But I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to! I wanted nothing more than to jump in and start stabbing the bastard who was trying to tear apart my husband! But in my condition? I could only stand and watch.

At least the two opponents seem to be rather evenly matched.

Or that's what it looked like at first.

As time dragged on, however, it became increasingly obvious that the giant had an advantage. Bringing his size and weight to bear, he was able to push Mr Ambrose back farther and farther until, finally, a powerful swing of the sabre ripped Mr Ambrose's own blade from his hand and sent it clattering across the floor.

"Now..." The massive man growled. "I will have my answers! Where is he?"

"He? He who?"

"Don't play games with me!" In an instant, the shadowy giant's blade appeared at my husband's throat. "Where. Is. He?"

Staring down the shadow towering above him, Mr Ambrose pointed down at the floor. "Down there."

"Huh?" The big man looked down, and—

Wham!

I couldn't suppress a grin as Mr Rikkard Ambrose slammed his arm against the flat of the giant's blade and shoved it aside. Before the big bastard could react, Mr Ambrose leapt forward and rammed his fist straight into his enemy's face. With a pained grunt, the massive figure tried to bring his sabre back up, only for my darling husband to twist the bastard's wrist, forcing him to let go.

Ha!

The big bastard howled, more in rage than in pain, then let his fists fly. Thus began the bloodiest brawl I had ever seen in my life—and considering I was friends with Patsy, that was saying something. The two exchanged a furious flurry of blows, the impacts of their fists echoing in the empty warehouse like cannon shots. I watched, teeth grinding, as, once again, Mr Ambrose was driven back. My pistol came up, pointing at the two struggling, twisting figures, but...

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