What Judgments Come

“Hey!”

The voice was distant and dulled by the bourbon currently doing its best to marinate his brain, and Qui

“Knock it off! No fighting in here!”

His opponent went limp in his grasp, and Qui

“You should learn to keep your mouth shut, old man,” the giant said, his boots thumping along the bar’s simulated wooden floor. Qui

Shit.

The muscled freight hauler—all three of him—started to swing his fist. Without any shred of grace, Qui

“How many of you are there, anyway?” he grumbled, reaching up to rub his aching jaw.

The new guy scowled. “Just me, boss.” Though smaller than his friend, this freighter jockey was stockier, as well as being bald and possessing no neck that Qui

A few drinks earlier, Qui

And a few weeks before that, I wouldn’t even be in here.

That was then, Qui

Gesturing toward the newcomer, he made a show of bringing up his hands and assuming a defensive stance. “Okay, big boy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Qui

“Sorry, Qui

The freight hauler did not seem worried by the bouncer’s presence. “You saw what he did to my friends.” To emphasize his point, he waved one beefy hand to where one of his shipmates still sat on the floor with his hands pressed to his groin. His other friend, the one who had thrown the first punch at Qui

“It’s not my fault they fight worse than they dress,” Qui

His comment got the expected response as the brawny freighter crewman growled something unintelligible before stepping forward.

“Whoa, ace!” Marshall said, holding up his free hand, but the hauler paid no heed.

Qui

What the hell’s he got in his mouth? The question screamed in Qui

It was still a good punch, halting his opponent’s advance and giving him pause as he staggered to retain his balance. That was enough time for Marshall to move in and grab the other man’s right arm and begin the arduous process of dragging the hauler’s muscled bulk away from the bar. Qui

“Hey!”

“You’re out of here, Qui

Twisting himself around, Qui

“Stop staring at my ass,” Allie warned, her tone possessing not a hint of her usual humor as she pulled him along through the crowd of onlookers on her way toward the bar’s front door.

Doing his best to dredge up some lingering vestige of charm, Qui

Allie turned to glare at him, holding up her free hand and aiming her forefinger at him. “Finish that sentence and I’ll carve out your liver. Whatever’s left of it, anyway.”

“Come on, babe,” Qui

“Too much, in fact,” Allie replied. “I can’t have you in here riling my customers anymore, Qui

Holding up a hand, Qui

Allie nodded. “Sure, after you insulted his girlfriend. Don’t play games with me, Qui

“Your place?” Qui

Rolling her eyes, Allie replied, “You know what I mean, you idiot. Tom wanted me to throw you out weeks ago, but I kept talking him out of it, because I know you’ve been hurting, but I can’t keep covering for you if all you’re going to do is cause trouble. You get that, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” Qui