For a moment, silence filled the restaurant - complete, utter silence.
Then Pete started screaming, and he didn't stop. I let him blubber on for about thirty seconds before I yanked the knife out of his palm and used the hilt to clip him in the temple. He immediately went slack and still, although blood continued to pour out of his wounded hand. The steady stream soaked into weathered wood, covering it like a fresh, glossy coat of crimson varnish.
I got to my feet and realized that everyone was staring at me - again. Just like they had for weeks now at the Pork Pit. Eyes wide, nostrils flared, fear tightening their faces. This time, I couldn't help the tired sigh that escaped my lips.
So much for my vacation.
Once I made sure that Pete and Trent were out cold, I headed over to the bar where Callie was now slumped on a stool and took a seat beside her. The other diners had paid up and left as soon as the fight was over, and the two waitresses had scurried out the door as well. That left me, Bria, Callie, and the bartender in the restaurant, along with the still-unconscious goons.
"Do you want me to call him before I leave?" the bartender asked.
Callie stared at the two men, the shattered shelves, and the mess of broken bottles, glass, and liquor behind the bar. She bit her lip, then nodded. "He'll hear about it one way or another. Besides, this is his beat now, remember? So go ahead and call it in."
"Who are you talking about?" Bria asked.
"My fiance," she said. "He's a cop just like you, Bria. I told you about him, remember? Don't worry. He'll take care of those two. They won't bother me again. At least not for tonight."
She murmured the last few words in a sad, defeated voice, but Bria and I still heard them. The bartender moved to the other end of the counter, picked up a phone there, and made his call. As soon as he was out of earshot, Bria turned to me.
"I thought you left your knives at home!" she hissed.
I just looked at her.
Bria threw her hands up in the air. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?" she muttered, and started pacing back and forth in front of the bar.
"What knives? What's Bria talking about? Who the hell are you?" Callie asked. "And where did you learn how to fight like that?"
"Let's just say that I'm in the . . . security business," I said.
Callie's brows drew together in confusion. "But I thought you ran a barbecue restaurant. What would you know about security?"
"Oh, you'd be surprised the things I know about," I said. "I like to read and . . . study up on various topics in my spare time. I take a lot of classes at the local community college up in Ashland."
Bria groaned and started massaging her temples, like my words had just given her the mother of all migraines. I wasn't feeling too great about things myself. We hadn't even been gone from home a day, and I'd already gotten into a bar fight. Not exactly how I wanted to start my vacation, especially when I'd promised Bria that there wouldn't be any blood this weekend.
Even worse was the fact that it wasn't just any fight with any goons. From the way Pete had talked, these two had someone backing them, someone rich and powerful, which meant there would most likely be repercussions from our brawl. How bad those repercussions would be remained to be seen, but I wanted to know exactly whom I was dealing with so I could take the appropriate steps to protect all of us.
So I ignored my baby sister's less-than-gracious response to my whopping whale of a tale and focused on Callie. "Now, why don't you tell us who these guys work for and what they really wanted, other than to mess up your restaurant and scare the shit out of you. Because from what Pete said, it's not the first time that they've come in here and threatened you, is it?"
Uncertainty filled the other woman's eyes, and she turned to Bria, asking her a silent question.
Bria sighed and nodded. "Go ahead, Callie. You can trust her. Gin's . . . used to situations like this."
I raised an eyebrow at the sarcasm in her voice. Bria snorted and started pacing again.
Callie looked back and forth between the two of us for several seconds before shaking her head and starting her story. "There's this guy named Dekes who wants to buy my restaurant. Pete and Trent work for him, along with several other men. Giants, mostly, private bodyguards, that sort of thing."
I nodded. I knew exactly the type of muscle she was talking about. Lots of giants in Ashland and beyond hired themselves out as bodyguards to rich folks, since it paid so well. Of course, for those rich folks who dabbled in things that weren't quite legal, the giants acted more as enforcers than bodyguards, which was exactly what I was willing to bet Trent was.
"Anyway, Pete, Trent, and the others have been coming in for a couple of months now, offering me more and more money every time if I'll close down the restaurant and sell out to their boss. Lately, they've gone from being pleasant to what you saw tonight. Tough. Threatening. Violent."
"And your arm?" I asked in a quiet voice.
Callie sighed. "It was something of an accident. I told Pete to leave, and he shoved past me to get to the bar. I stumbled and hit my arm."
"But Pete didn't exactly apologize, now, did he?" I asked.
Callie didn't say anything.
"Wait a second," Bria said. "Did you say Dekes? As in Randall Dekes?"
Callie nodded. Bria cursed and quickened her pacing, moving from one end of the bar to the other with sharp, precise movements.
"I take it you've heard of him?" I asked my sister.
She nodded. "Unfortunately. He's a real estate mogul and developer who's had a home here for more than a century. Remember all the mansions and shopping centers that we drove by today? Dekes built all of those."
"He's practically bought up the whole island," Callie added in a soft voice. "He plans to build a big resort complex on Blue Marsh - a casino, golf courses, spas, restaurants, the whole nine yards. It'll put everything else on the island to shame and probably out of business as well. There were a few initial holdouts like me, but everyone else has sold out to him already."
"Why?" Bria asked. "Because of the money he was offering for their property?"
Callie nodded. "That and the fact that there have been some . . . accidents. Vandalism, mostly. Another business owner was beaten up pretty badly one night when his store was robbed."
Accidents. Right.
"Where is Dekes going to build this resort?" I asked.
"He's adding it on to the Blue Sands hotel." Callie held her hands out wide. A brittle smile tightened her face. "According to the plans that I've seen, we're sitting in the middle of the main floor of his casino. He's supposed to break ground on construction in two weeks, but he's having a press conference tomorrow at the Blue Sands to formally announce the project. He owns the hotel, and his mansion adjoins the grounds."