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“Sir,” Sophia snapped at me. “What can I get you?” She was impatient, eager to refill the hunters’ coffee so that they’d leave.
“Nothing. Coffee is fine.”
Just then, the cook emerged from the kitchen, a tall, beefy guy with long gray hair pulled back in a ponytail. His name tag readron.
“I saidget me some more coffee.”Apparently, Gorilla Gut didn’t like being ignored.
A trigger for him, I mused, as he was probably the fat, ugly kid who was bullied at school, only to grow up and become a bully himself. I glanced at Ron, the cook, who was watching the situation closely.
Pissed now, Sophia whirled around and stalked over to the drunks’ table. Without a word, she lifted the carafe of coffee from their table—that they could have easily done themselves—and refilled their mugs.
“Now, add the sugar, honey,” Gorilla Gut said with a smirk.
As Sophia reached across the table to get the condiments, Gorilla stuck his hand up the back of her dress and sank his sausage fingers into her ass, squeezing and erupting into laughter.
There was no thinking, no hesitation.
I surged out of my seat, grabbed the bastard by the back of his collar, and pulled him out of the booth like a rag doll. Coffee went everywhere. Bucky stumbled up, yelling something, but was silenced by my fist connecting with the middle of his forehead. He locked up like a plank, his eyes glazing over.
Chaos broke out.
The cook jumped into the fight, tackling Buck as he fell to the floor, although he was already knocked out cold.
I heard the swoosh of the blade before I saw it.
His chest heaving, Gorilla Gut glowered at me, his arms open, ready for a fight. The hunting knife he’d pulled from his belt was clasped in his hand. His face was mottled with hives, drunken rage spilling from his eyes.
He lunged forward.
I grabbed his weapon arm and yanked him to me while digging my thumb into his carpal bones and twisting. He bellowed in pain, dropping the knife while buckling at the knees. As he dropped his weight, I bent his arm behind his body, using the man’s own body weight to dislocate his shoulder.
Someone screamed.
Gorilla Gut sobbed like a child as I dragged him outside and threw him into the snow, his face bouncing off a concrete parking block.
Ron followed suit, dragging a dazed Bucky out the front door. Together, we threw the kid next to his buddy.
I loomed over them, my fists clenched.
“Please let us go,” Gorilla Gut begged. He’d rolled over like a beached whale, pathetically covering his face with his hands.
I knelt between them, grabbed their hair, and turned their bloodied faces to me.
“If either of you ever come back to this diner again, I will kill you. Do you understand?”
Vehement nods from both.
“Good.” I released their heads and stood. “Now, get the hell out of here.”
“What’s your name?” the cook asked, extending his hand as the drunks scrambled across the street to their trucks.
“Justin,” I said as I shook his hand.
“Justin, nice to meet you. Ron Fitch, owner. You’re welcome here anytime. Free meals on me for life. Just tell them—”
Our attention was pulled to a flash of red peeling across the parking lot, a small silhouette in the driver’s seat. Sophia slammed the gas, fishtailing onto the road.
“Excuse me, Ron.”
