Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
“We just wanted the money,” the first one said, sounding whiny. “Then the cunt got in the way—”
I gasped, but not from the word they called me. Rock’s expression changed. If I’d thought he looked dangerous before, he looked downright deadly now. He punched the guy who’d said that in the face, knocking him out. That made me think that I’d been right before, that he’d been toying with the guys and pulling his punches.
He grabbed the other guy so hard that he made him cry out. Then he dragged them toward the door, one conscious, the other unconscious. The other customers and I watched until he’d manhandled them out the door.
Then all was quiet as I stared in disbelief at the door the powerful man had just exited.
What the hell was that?
Why had Rock taken it upon himself to take care of those guys?
I was still shakily contemplating it when a customer from the table called out. “Miss? Can we get another pitcher of beer?”
2
ROCCO
Ron Keeler and Simon Portis.
Those two delinquents had made a mistake.
A serious mistake. As I dragged them down the dark alley, I wondered if they’d gotten that message left.
About two months ago, they mugged some old lady three blocks away. They’d been lucky I wasn’t anywhere near that spot. If I were, I would have beaten the shit out of them. Then this would never have happened tonight. Maggie would have locked the place up and gone home, without worrying about a couple of assholes trying to earn their stripes.
Keeler and Portis had been desperate to get into the Gambini family. They thought they deserved to be part of a crew, because they thought they were so big and bad. Yeah, right. I’m pretty damn sure I proved otherwise to them tonight. Hell, Maggie had been on the path to proving otherwise. I never thought I’d see the pretty barmaid with a shotgun in her hands, but she looked like she knew how to use it.
If nothing else, she’d scared those two assholes. Well, if they’d been able to see past my fist connecting with their faces. When it came down to it, those two were tiny. Not in size—they were each around six feet tall each. But they just didn’t have what it takes to enter this world.
Guts.
It takes guts to take on some of New York’s arch criminals. Stealing from an eighty-year-old lady? Robbing a pretty barmaid? That was the opposite of gutsy. Even a high school kid with a gun could have done that shit. Alone. With no backup.
Yet somehow, these two assholes thought it would impress Michael Gambini. If that wasn’t fucked up, I didn’t know what was. Don Gambini had been running the family for almost thirty years. During that time, he had had a lot of people working for him, tough bastards who would eat those two for lunch.
Keeler clawed at my hand, trying to break the iron grip I had on my shirt, but I wasn’t letting go unless it was to drop him off a cliff. And I had to admit, I liked having their blood on my knuckles. Dishing out brutal beatings was part of my job. They had to know this was my turf. That the Rusty Bucket was my favorite place to relax. To drink whiskey. Catch a game. And to enjoy the sight of the sweet young thing behind the bar.
The image of Maggie swinging that shotgun around was still inside my head. She didn’t seem the type. Sure, she could shoot the shit like any good bartender, and she poured a mean drink. Still, there was something about her. She was always kind of… delicate. Yeah, that was the word. Even though she shoved her hair in a messy ponytail and wore flannel shirts, there was no getting around that she was a petite, feminine woman.
Except tonight I’d seen a different side of her. Growing up in the foster care system, I’d met plenty of girls who were tough as nails. They’d had to be. We’d all had to be.
It made me wonder what in Maggie’s past had made her develop that steely streak.
As I contemplated it, I smashed Keeler and Porter’s heads together for good measure and then released them. They collapsed on the trash-covered pavement with a groan. Or, one was groaning. The other appeared to be unconscious.
Served them right. They couldn’t just walk into a moderately respectable dive like the Rusty Bucket and think they can do whatever the hell they wanted, especially mess with a working girl like Maggie. Her life couldn’t be the price for their admission into the Gambini family. She had to be left alone, or else Keeler and Portis would soon find out what staring down the barrel of a gun was like. Either mine, or shit, maybe I should sic Maggie on them.