He sneered, his face turning harder and uglier with the effort.
“So go ahead, asshole. Take your free shot, but it’s the only one you’re gonna get. Once we’re done with you, there won’t be anything left to pin a badge on,” I said.
He straightened and balled both hands into fists at his sides. I could see him weighing the options in his tiny, inebriated brain. But before he could make my day by making the wrong move, a large hand landed on his shoulder.
“Think it’s time you went home, pal.”
I looked up and then up some more at the man who’d stepped in. Cereal Aisle Guy to the rescue.
Dilton turned to face him. “Why don’t you mind your own damn…”
The rest of his sentence disappeared a split second after Dilton realized he was talking to the man’s Adam’s apple, not his face.
I smirked, and a twitter of nervous laughter rose up around us.
“You wanna finish that thought?” Cereal Aisle Guy asked.
Dilton glowered at him. “Fuck you,” he spat.
“I were you, I wouldn’t want to be making a spectacle of myself. It draws unnecessary attention,” Cereal Aisle Guy said.
Dilton looked like he wanted to say something else, but he was interrupted by his asshole posse.
“Let’s hit up another bar. One with less bitches,” one of his idiot friends suggested.
I kid you not, the women at the tables closest to us started hissing.
Someone threw the remains of their fry basket, hitting Dilton square in the chest.
“Now ain’t the time, Tate,” the older man with the mustache called. “Be smart.”
There was something ominous about the way he said it.
“If you don’t get him out of here, Wylie, I’m callin’ the cops. The real ones,” Fi snarled.
“Already here.” The entire bar turned to see U.S. Marshal Nolan Graham at my back, his badge and gun on full display. “We got a problem here?”
“I think that’s your cue to leave, sweetheart,” I said to the ketchup-covered Dilton.
“Why don’t we step outside?” Nolan suggested. His tone was almost amicable, but his eyes were cold steel.
“I’ll be seein’ you again,” Dilton promised me as his friends each took an arm and followed Nolan out the door. The older man with the mustache stopped in front of me, looked me over from head to toe, snorted, and then strolled outside with a smirk.
The ladies who weren’t too busy pressing both hands to their cramped abdomens erupted in cheers as the door swung shut behind them.
I produced my credit card and held it aloft. “Fi, this round’s on me.”
The pandemonium reached hysteria levels and then someone plugged Shania Twain’s “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!” into the jukebox.
I turned back to the man who had white knighted me twice now. “Cereal aisle guy,” I said.
His lips curved in an almost smile. “Unmarried friend of the old lady.”
“Your nickname is better.”
“I could call you Trouble.”
“You wouldn’t be the first.”
He nodded toward the door. “You shouldn’t go around antagonizing men like that.”
Even Cereal Aisle Guy had an opinion on my life choices.
“He started it.”
“Sounded like he’s got an issue with the local cops. Wasn’t the chief of police here shot a couple weeks back?” he asked.
“He was.”
The guy shook his head ruefully. “And I thought small-town life would be quiet.”
“If you want quiet, Knockemout probably isn’t the place to find it.”
“Guess not. They find the guy who shot the cop? Cause the one they just hauled out of here looks like he wouldn’t mind putting a bullet or two in someone,” he said.
“The FBI is investigating but they haven’t made any arrests. I’m sure the guy who did it is long gone. At least, he is if he has half a brain.”
“I heard the chief doesn’t even remember what happened. That’s gotta be weird.”
I didn’t really feel like talking about Nash to anyone. Especially not a stranger, so I simply raised my eyebrow.
He flashed an embarrassed smile. “Sorry. The gossip here runs fast and deep. Back home, I didn’t even know my neighbors’ first names. Here everybody seems like they already know your social security number and great-grandmother’s maiden name.”
“Welcome to Knockemout. Can I buy you a drink for your heroics?” I offered.
He shook his head. “I’ve gotta get going.”
“Well, thanks for stepping in. Even if I totally had the situation handled.”
“No problem. But maybe be more careful next time. You don’t wanna go making yourself a target.”
“I’m sure that creep has bigger problems than worrying about me. For instance, he’ll probably be having nightmares about you tonight.”
The grin was back. “Rain check on that drink.”
“You got it,” I said and watched him leave.
“On the house,” Max said, appearing next to me with the bourbon I’d ordered.
“Thanks. And thanks for not telling me I should have minded my own business.”
Max snorted. “Please. You’re the shero of Honky Tonk. Tate has no idea how lucky he is. We woulda tore his ass up tonight. Then Knox woulda been pissed at all the property damage. And Studly Do-Right woulda been mad about the blood and paperwork.”
“The Morgan brothers owe us one,” I agreed.
Nolan came back inside, stroking his finger and thumb over his mustache and frowning.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I think I might have to shave.”
My lips twitched. “I think you should keep it. Reclaim the ’stache.”
He took the chair Dilton had vacated and waved Fi over.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I warned, pointing to the Shark Week signage.
“Shark Week’s in the summer, isn’t it?”
“Not that kind of Shark Week. This one’s scarier.”
Fi appeared with a fresh lollipop. She tossed my credit card on the table in front of me and then dug the heels of her hands into her lower back. “God. It feels like my kidneys are trying to tunnel their way out of my flesh. Why is nature such a bitch?”
“Oh, that kind of Shark Week,” Nolan said, catching on.
“Yeah. So whatever you’re about to say better be worth my time and suffering coming over here,” Fi said.
“I just wanted to politely and respectfully suggest that you pull the security footage from tonight and save it somewhere.”
“Any particular reason?”
“I don’t know what’s public knowledge and what’s not,” Nolan hedged.
“You mean Nash firing Tate for being a bad cop and a shitty human being?” Fi prompted.
“Word travels fast around here. Sometimes it’s even the truth,” I said.
“Just in case things escalate, it wouldn’t hurt to be able to prove a pattern,” Nolan said.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he escalated the shit out of things,” Fi said on a groan. “He’s got a whole lot of artificial self-worth wrapped around that badge. Without it, who knows what he’ll do to feel like top dog?”