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Griff stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the bar and watched as Rachel weaved between tables, carrying a tray heavy with full drink mugs. When she stopped at a table, she smiled at the customers and distributed the drinks.
Griff manned the bus tubs and cleared tables as quickly as people left. He hadn’t done this kind of work since he’d pulled kitchen patrol in the Navy. It could be a thankless job, but fun talking to locals and people who’d come to the festival.
Darkness had descended on the mountain and the valley below. So far, the killer hadn’t tried anything and still had his head down.
Enzo Ramos and Thorn helped Gunny in the kitchen, making sandwiches, grilling burgers and hotdogs and frying French fries. RJ and Jake made a helluva team behind the bar, mixing drinks, pouring draft beer and popping the tops off longneck bottles.
Emily, the therapist, and Kayla Quinn worked the tables with Rachel. Tayo Perez and Sawyer parked their big bodies by the front door and crossed their arms over their chests, acting the part of no-nonsense bouncers.
Cage Weaver and Bryce Coleman were on stand-by to drive the drunks home. In the meantime, they cleared tables. Two of the lodge SUVs were parked outside, ready when it was clear a customer wasn’t sober enough to get home.
The evening wore on, the room getting louder as more alcohol was consumed.
While cleaning a table on the far side of the room, Griff caught movement out of the corner of his eye near the front entrance. Someone had entered and slipped into the crowd.
A ripple of awareness spread through Griff’s body. He straightened and panned the room, searching for the newcomer. He’d made it a point to study every person in the large room. They still didn’t know who the killer was, and he hadn’t made his move.
Griff did his best to work the tables close to Rachel. He didn’t want her too far out of his sight, not in the noisy, packed bar. He doubted he could hear her scream above the cacophony of voices and the jukebox.
Just when he thought it couldn’t get louder or rowdier, a shout sounded in the farthest corner of the building. Chairs toppled as men leaped to their feet.
Someone shouted over the roar, “Fight!”
Griff stood tall to peer over the tops of men’s heads. Fists flew, and men shouted encouragement to whichever fighter they backed.
Sawyer and Cage waded through the throng, trying to reach the fist fight that seemed to have grown from two angry people to half a dozen.
As fighters threw their punches, they crashed into the people around them, inciting even more people to join the brawl.
Griff spied Rachel on the other side of the crowd from him. She was working her way through the bystanders to the door leading into the kitchen. She ducked into the kitchen. A moment later, Gunny, Enzo and Thorn ran out and pushed their way through the angry masses.
When Gunny went down, Griff started forward. With the crowd so thick, they might not see a man down. Even as tough as the old fighter was, the Marine could be trampled to death.
Cage and Sawyer urged people to exit the bar. Most resisted, more interested in watching or joining the fight. Their lack of cooperation forced the Protectors to shove people out the door and block them from reentry.
Chairs smashed as people were thrown against them. Men yelled. Bets were made as noses were smashed, and blood made the floor slick.
The noise was deafening.
Griff pushed and shoved his way through the crowd until he reached where Gunny had gone down. He lay on the floor, his arms wrapped around his head to protect himself from stomping boots. Griff reached for one of Gunny’s hands and yanked him to his feet.
“Hold onto my back,” Griff said.
Gunny clamped his hands on Griff’s shoulders and held on tight as the younger man barged through the crowd that didn’t seem to be thinning.
Being bumped and jostled, Griff made painfully slow progress until he finally neared the bar.
RJ lifted the folding countertop and pulled Griff and Gunny into the relative safety behind the bar. As soon as they were inside, RJ slammed the counter down and locked it in place to keep the rabble-rousers from storming the liquor bottles to bash over heads.
Finally able to breathe without having his body crushed against others, Griff drew in a deep breath, clearing his mind so that he could focus.
His first clear thought was, “Where’s Rachel?”
“We thought she was with you,” RJ said.
“The last I saw her, she was in the kitchen,” Gunny said. “She ran in to get us when all hell broke loose out here.”
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
