Chapter 2

"That's the dirtiest cheatin' I ever saw."

The words were a low growl and Sam steeled herself not to react. Reminded herself she hadn't cheated. She had won fair and square and so this giant holding a pool cue like a weapon wouldn't do anything.

She hoped.

The guy who had been hustling the other players when she got there didn't seem to be on their radar, Sam noticed. She wanted to point out that the cheating had already been in progress when she showed up. She looked over at the guy who wasn't much older than her and met his green eyes. Saw the silent message there to get out.

Sam narrowed her eyes at him, not appreciating him assuming she couldn't handle herself. She got enough of that from Chris.

Sam turned back to the oversized redneck and leaned back against the pool table. "We can always go double or nothing, but then you'd owe me six thousand," she said.

The younger man with green eyes moved closer to Sam, something she shouldn't have wanted, but the unspoken solidarity was a comfort in the face of the three hulking men facing her.

"Gentlemen, I don't know how you think you were cheated, but I can guarantee you were not. We all lost our money to the lady in a fair fight."

That got the attention off Sam, but unfortunately the guy next to her didn't look like he was going to fare any better in a fight with the lunkhead gang.

"You two in this together?" lunkhead number two asked, his piggish eyes turning to slits as he studied to two of them.

"No," Sam and her would-be rescuer—a rescuer she didn't need, she reminded herself—said in unison.

It was the unison that tipped things over. Speaking as a unit gave the appearance of a partnership.

The biggest of the three raised his pool cue behind him and brought it forward with all his might.

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Morgan accepted another drink from one of the men near her and lifted it in a silent toast. She tossed the shot back, closing her eyes against the expected burn. When she opened them, she saw the guy at the table in the corner watching her.

She lifted her eyebrow in silent challenge to him, daring him to come over and buy her a drink, but he looked back down at the beer in front of him and didn't respond.

Something Morgan took as a personal challenge.

She slipped down from the stool she sat on and started toward his table.

One of the guys at the bar started after her.

"Hey, you're not leaving," he said.

Morgan glanced over her shoulder at him. She gave him the hint of a smile. "Afraid so, pal." She looked back towards the loner at the opposite end of the bar, but before she got to him, she felt a tight grip on her arm.

She wanted to react, but shoved down the immediate fear that flared. She stopped walking and looked down at the fist wrapped around her bicep. Without a word, she looked up at the man holding her prisoner and gave him an unimpressed look.

"I been buying you drinks all night," he said. "Don't appreciate you walking away before we're settled up."

"Problem?"

The unfamiliar voice was quiet, the hint of a threat towards her captor. Morgan looked and saw the loner had left his table and was standing close to her.

The guy glanced at her, then back at the guy who was facing off with Morgan.

She tried to pull her arm away and the guy tightened his grip.

"Let her go," the loner said.

"This ain't none of your business," the bigger man snarled and gave Morgan a yank.

"Hey!" she yelled as he physically pulled her towards him, pulling her off balance on her high heels. Her heart leaped forward with her movement, but didn't stop moving, pounding erratically. She tried to catch herself, but there was nothing to grab hold of and she was left nearly dangling in the man's grip.

Her rescuer stepped in quickly, landing a blow across the jaw of the man holding Morgan.

The man let go of her and Morgan started to tumble the other way, falling backwards into one of the men Sam had been playing pool with.

The pool player was just bringing a cue down as a weapon, but Morgan's momentum knocked him to the side and his pool cue cracked down on the table.

Morgan steadied herself quickly, trying to get her bearings. She saw Sam's eyes, not quite hard enough to hide her own fear. And then Sam was setting her jaw, lifting her own pool cue and swinging it with all her might.

Morgan ducked as it came near her and splintered over the head of the man who had been attacking her.

Morgan didn't wait for his reaction, she skittered away as quickly as she could. She looked around wildly for Sam, somewhere on the other side of the growing chaos.

"Sam!" she yelled.

"Come on," a voice near her ear said.

She turned and the blue eyed guy who had saved her was there. His eyes were scanning the room while he put an easy hand on Morgan's arm, gently pushing her towards the door.

Morgan shook him off.

"You gotta get out of here," he persisted.

Morgan glanced at him, at his obvious concern. She shook her head, more to try to clear it, spinning from her earlier shots than in any attempt to communicate. But either way, she wasn't going with him. Not without Sam.

"Sam!" she yelled again.

There. She caught a glimpse of Sam's long hair. Morgan shoved her way through the crowd toward her friend. A hard elbow caught her in the jaw, sending her backwards. Her would-be rescuer was there to catch her.

Morgan's hand flew to her jaw, the heat that seared through the entire side of her head. She blinked at the guy, his blue eyes anxious as he said something she couldn't hear.

She tasted blood in her mouth and turned to spit it out. Then back to looking for Sam.

"I need to find Sam," she shouted over the noise to the guy, one hand still cradling her jaw that didn't seem to want to move. If he wanted to help, he could help her find Sam.

He set his mouth in a determined line, positioning himself right next to her and started looking.

"There!" he called out.

Morgan caught sight of Sam just in time to see her land a solid blow in the gut to some muscle head in a plaid shirt and Morgan could see her yell something about getting her money.

Morgan tried to go around the edge of the fray this time, but there were too many bodies, much larger than her, with ham fists pummeling each other. She looked at the pool table, an empty route directly to Sam. She kicked off her heels and lifted herself onto the table.

"SAM!" she yelled again. But Sam wasn't backing down.

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Chris listened to the call, flipping on the squad car's lights and sirens before the dispatcher finished speaking.

"The Saloon," Buck said, bracing himself as Chris sped up and took a corner to head toward the outskirts of the city.

"That place should've been shut down," Chris muttered.

Buck didn't argue with him. The roadhouse on the edge of the city drew a mix of bikers and rednecks that resulted in more fights than a boxing ring.

There wasn't a cop in Denver who wasn't familiar with the place and Chris made it there just as two other cars were pulling up. The door to the bar was open, sounds of the fight spilling out into the dark parking lot.

Chris felt for his gun, his taser, his cuffs as he and Buck got out of their car. Chris looked over at Josiah Sanchez and his partner getting out of their car. "Watch the door, don't let anyone leave," Chris ordered.

Josiah nodded.

Chris and Buck were the first through the door. The noise was deafening. Shouts, curses, glass breaking, the sound of fists connecting with muscle.

Two men stumbled into Chris and he shoved them aside, making his way toward the center of the mayhem. The pair of uniforms that followed him and Buck grabbed at the men that fell their way, starting to get some control at the edge of the fray.

A stray blow came near Chris and he caught the man's fist. He held it, staring hard into the eyes of the drunken fool.

The silent message was heard and the guy quickly backed away, heading toward the door where Chris knew Josiah could snag him.

Chris turned back toward where all the chaos seemed to be stemming from, he shoved another fighter out of his way. And froze.

In the middle of the curses and blows, Sam was right there. Armed with a pool cue, or what was left of one, she drew back and swung it in a mighty arc, landing a solid hit right on the tattoo that marked the edge of a meaty man's neck.

His unbidden flare of pride was short lived when Chris saw her kick another man away and start to lose ground. Some guy grabbed at Sam and tried to pull her away, toward the pool table. He looked familiar, but Chris couldn't see his face. Sam set her jaw and shook her head at the guy. Chris could see her mouthing something about money.

Chris was trying to move, but the center of the brawl had shifted, pressing closer to him and Buck. He and Buck were losing ground. He tried to catch another glimpse of Sam, saw her scrambling up onto the pool table. Saw who else was standing there.

With bodies falling and men shouting all around them, Sam and Morgan were perched atop the table, Sam armed with her splintered cue and Morgan with a bruise blooming on her jaw, blood on her lower lip.

He saw when they spotted him and Buck. They both froze, like deer in the headlights. Chris felt his jaw tighten enough to snap and redoubled his efforts to get to his sister.

"What the hell are you doing here, Morgan Wilmington?" he heard Buck roar behind him.

And then the girls weren't stunned anymore. He saw the second the defiance set in on Morgan's face, Sam shuttering her emotions, her jaw twitching. Chris tensed.

"Sam!" He was sure she didn't hear him over the commotion, but knew she wouldn't miss the warning in his look.

"Don't you dare!" Buck was yelling to the girls next to him, clearly seeing the expressions on their faces and knowing it didn't mean anything good.

Morgan raised an eyebrow, Sam narrowed her eyes and Chris didn't want to know what was coming next.

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