Chapter 19
The bartender gave the patron the middle finger, all her attention on Fury, who bent down to speak intimately in her ear. Nathan cursed at himself for the pang of jealousy. The woman shot a smirk in Nathan’s direction. She shook her head. Neither did anything for Nathan’s sense of unease.
“Bitch, I ain’t got all night!” yelled the belligerent man.
“You want a fuckin’ whiskey?” the woman barked. She grabbed a bottle, and pure, blind fear seized Nathan by the short hairs.
“Here.” She slammed the bottle down on the man’s hand. It crunched. He howled in rage, fumbling at his belt line. The woman pulled her weapon faster, a curved knife that was more sword, and the man stopped reaching for his piece when she wrestled him closer by the hair and pressed the curved steel to his pulse.
Nathan expected gunfire, but what he heard were cheers. “Give ‘em hell!” somebody bellowed.