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And then that peace is quickly shattered.
The song on the jukebox changes to the sounds of George Jones singing about loving a good woman until he dies.
My boots screech to a halt. “Fuck.”
That song. It’s the equivalent of dropping an atom bomb on Ford’s heart.
Dakota freezes like a doe in a clearing. “What’s wrong?”
Quickly, I scan the bar. “Where’s Ford?” Jesus, I need tracking devices for every goddamn person in my family.
But I’m too late. The second the chorus hits, there’s the smash of glass. I rip around and watch in disbelief as Ford puts his hand through the jukebox.
Fuck.
Nowhere loves a fight, and the bar erupts into mayhem.
Boots and hats and flying fists. A sea of chaos explodes across the dance floor.
Ruby, trying to help Ford, gets caught up in the surge. Someone grabs her wrist and tugs her onto the dance floor. Ford tries to help her, but a leather-vest wearing biker gets a fistful of Ford’s shirt and shoves him into the wall.
“Cover your eyes,” I growl. I may be pissed at my twin, but the second anyone touches one of my siblings it’s fists out.
Dakota squeaks. “What? Why?”
“You’re about to witness a double fucking homicide.”
Dakota grabs up a beer bottle from the nearest table.
I give her a look. “You planning to swing that or drink it?”
“Go,” she says, eyes glittering with mischief. “Help Ruby. I got this.”
I glance down at Dakota. I hate to leave her, but the way she’s holding that beer bottle reminds me she was born and raised in Resurrection. I kiss her temple. “Hang tight. I’ll be right back.”
It’s with those words that I stomp into the melee.
I don’t start the fight, but I fucking end it.
I close the distance and grab Ford off the jukebox, put a fist through the biker’s face. Before I can drag Ford’s ass out of here, he’s right back in the chaos.
This bar doesn’t stand a chance.
I’m looking around for Ruby when I see Charlie.
I shake my head as Charlie pins a guy to the wall with a violence reserved only for someone who fucks with his wife. When Charlie drops him with one quick punch, I turn back for Dakota.
My heart trips.
She’s trapped in the surging crowd. I catch her flash of dark hair, her frightened eyes.
The crowd surges.
It’s turning bad, fast.
Dakota’s arms drop to her sides. She cradles her belly protectively, flinching as a circle forms around her.
I curse. She’s surrounded on all sides. If the crowd keeps pushing, she’ll be crushed.
