Chapter 1

Selena Summit stormed into the bar with an angry expression on her face. She didn’t have the appearance of one of the regular female visitors to the bar in the sense that she wasn’t dressed to catch a man. Of course, it was a little early in the day for that kind of bar action. The mid-afternoon crowd tended to be alcoholic businessmen, under-employed contractors, and unemployed layabouts. Her angry appearance might have created a stir, but this particular afternoon the bar was empty except for the bartender.

Selena wasn’t a fat woman although some might, if they were in a generous mood, say that she was rather stout. She wasn’t a particularly attractive woman. In fact, she was rather plain although her size did produce a pair of substantial breasts. Her lack of make-up and dowdy clothes only emphasized her plainness.

Marching over to the bar, she shouted, “A white wine. Large!”

“What kind of white wine?” the bartender asked pleasantly. “We have...”

“I don’t give a damn what kind you have, just make it large,” she growled.

“Okay. One large white wine coming up,” the bartender said while reaching over for the jug of white wine that served as the house wine.

He reached for a wine glass. Seeing the expression on her face, he pulled a water glass from the rack and filled it to the brim. Sliding it over the bar towards her, he said, “One large glass of white wine.”

Growling at him, she picked up the glass, spilling a bit in the process, and took a substantial drink out of it. She stomped over to one of the tables pausing only to take another large swig of the wine on the way. The bartender shrugged his shoulders and returned to the mysterious activities that barkeeps worldwide use to fill the hours when bars are empty.

Guy Gasser shuffled into the bar looking like his dog had died and he was looking for the killer. It was a strange mixture of sadness and anger. Slightly balding, he was middle-aged and carried an extra ten pounds, most of it around his stomach. On most occasions people would have described him as having a friendly appearance, but on this particular occasion he looked like he wanted to rip someone’s head off.

Even before reaching the bar, he said, “Scotch on the rocks with a glass of water on the side. Make it a triple.”

“Okay,” the bartender said.

“Keep ‘em coming until I can’t stand,” Guy said.

“You’re the customer,” the bartender said.

He made the drink and set it on the bar. Guy picked up the drink and drained half of it while the bartender filled a glass with water. He killed off the drink before the bartender even set the water glass on the bar.

“Another.”

The bartender said, “You might want to take it easy.”

“Don’t give me any shit. I’m not in the mood,” Guy said.

A minute later, Guy was seated at a table across the room from Selena. She glared at him. He gave her the finger. Both took a drink and then glared at each other from across the room.

The bartender ambled over to the cash register where the phone was located. Storm clouds were gathering and he wasn’t the type to wait for the last minute to search for an umbrella. He hadn’t even reached the register when another customer entered the bar.

Cody Slonaker stiffly marched to the bar. His face was white. His features were tight. He gave the impression that he was a man on the verge of violence and was just looking for an excuse to unleash his rage at someone or something.

“Whiskey. Beer chaser.”

“Coming right up,” the bartender said. He glanced at the telephone thinking it was long past time to call in reinforcements.

The bartender poured the beer first and then the whiskey. Cody didn’t wait for the whiskey to arrive before taking a long swill out of the glass of beer. When the whiskey appeared in front of him, he drank it back and then finished the beer.

“Another. Make it a double.”

The bartender nodded his head and refilled the order. Cody grabbed the drinks and headed over to an empty table. He choose one on the same side of the room as Guy. When Selena glared at him, he muttered, “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”

Cody was barely settled into his seat when Max Boros entered the bar. His hands were clenched into fists so tight that his knuckles had turned white. He marched over to the bar as if hoping someone would get in his way.

“Beer.”

“Okay,” the bartender said. “What kind?”

“Any kind.”

“Right. One generic beer coming up,” the bartender said.

Max grabbed his beer and drank it down. He ordered two more. Once he had been served, he headed over to a table located near the one occupied by Selena. Selena glared at him. He glared back at her and took a seat.

The bartender looked around the room at his four customers. Positioned in the room like combatants stationed in the four corners of a wrestling ring, they were glaring at each other and mumbling over their respective drinks. All looked about ready to explode. Each was ready for a refill and none of them had been sitting there that long. In his long experience as a barman this did not bode well. It was past time to call a friend on the local police force and ask him to drop by, preferably in uniform, for a little visit.

He had just reached the phone when two men wearing trench coats entered the bar. He recognized them immediately. The last time they had come into the bar they had left two hundred dollars richer. He had been left with a black eye and swollen lip.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered just as the shotguns appeared from under the trench coats.

It is a fact that a small spark in a fireworks factory, will lead to explosive results of disastrous proportions. The appearance of two aggressive individuals in a bar filled with angry, slightly inebriated customers, had many of the same consequences.

The gunmen, thinking that their shotguns would cow everyone into submission, were taken by surprise when that didn’t turn out to be the case.

Selena, holding her purse in two hands (it was heavily packed with two cans of cat food, a library book, and an empty thermos), swung said purse at the head of one of the gunmen. She put her entire body into the motion. Max picked up a chair and swung it at the same gunman. Both purse and chair connected with the gunman at the same time. He dropped like a rock.

Cody and Guy both swung at the second gunman at the same time. Guy went for a kidney shot while Cody went for the jaw. The gunman, twisting at the time the punches were thrown, was off balance and fell to the floor. Although both blows had been slightly off target, Cody and Guy were not deterred. They immediately started kicking the prostrate man.

Neither gunman had released their hold on their shotguns. In fact, they clung to their guns as if their lives depended upon it. As far as the law was concerned, unarmed people facing armed people had the right to use as much force as necessary. For Selena, Max, Cody, and Guy, this was a good thing since it excused their subsequent actions.

Cody kept stomping on the hand holding the gun. He just kept it up until there was nothing left of the hand but a bloody mess. Meanwhile, Guy was busy kicking the downed man not particularly worried about where his foot was connecting. Guy slowly progressed to the point where he was just jumping up and down on the fallen gunman.

Across the room, Selena was busy trying to kick the gunman in the balls. He was curled into a fetal position that made access to that sensitive area difficult. It didn’t stop her from trying. With a maniacal grin on his face, Max didn’t care where his kicks were landing.

There was shouting involved in the attack although it was difficult to tell who was saying what. The moans, groans, and screams were obviously coming from the two gunmen. Curses, growls, and insults were coming from the four customers. Only a few full sentences reached the bartender with sufficient clarity to understand them.

“That’ll teach you to pull a fuckin’ shotgun on me!”

“Take that asshole!”

“You’re just like every other fucking man!”

“Let go of that shotgun!”

“Fuck you mister bad ass!”