Free Club Justice by Mara McBain

standing in front of me I would take that under advisement. In the absence of one, get the hell out.”
    Somehow, the distinctive ratchet of a pump-action shot-gun managed to filter through the haze of his rage. He met Sambo’s serious gaze across the bar.
    “You are making a big mistake. I’m a cop,” he ground out.
    “Don’t tempt me, pig.”
    “He has no love lost for bullies hiding behind the badge,” Ginny whispered in a conspiratorial tone.
    “Nor do I,” a firm voice said behind him. “You’ve been asked to leave.”
    Kramer looked the deputy up and down with thinly veiled contempt.
    “You are out of your league, Barney Fife.”
    “And you are out of your jurisdiction.”
    Dragging his eyes from the earnest young deputy, Kramer caught sight of Zeke leaning just inside the door. The men flanking him looked to be barely out of their teens, but wore the Lord’s colors easily. 
    “No Neanderthal displays to defend and impress your lippy old lady?”
    Zeke’s impenetrable mask didn’t falter at the jibe. 
    “So this is what it has come to, Brawer, hiding behind a woman’s skirts, kids, and local LEOs?” Kramer asked with a mocking headshake. “I expected better.”
    “I’m here, Kramer. What is it you want?”
    “Your balls on a platter.”
    “Too bad I don’t swing that way.”
    Gritting his teeth at the laughter Brawer’s comment drew; he glanced around noting new arrivals from the back, all prominently displaying their club allegiance. At some point Ginny Brawer had moved out of the line of fire, and was now watching from a safe distance.
    “Calling in the Calvary?”
    “It’s dinner time,” Zeke replied with an insolent shrug of one shoulder.
    “I will handle this, Zeke,” the deputy said tightly.
    “Then handle it, Marchand.”
    “The owner of this establishment has asked you to leave. Either you do so or I will run you in for public nuisance and interrupting a place of business.”
    “Technically it was the wife of the owner that asked me to leave.”
    “Even if Ginny’s name wasn’t on the business, if you spent any time in Trinity you would know her word is as good as his.”
    “A regular rose among the thorns,” Kramer scoffed, shooting the smug bitch a look. “She must be something to command such devotion from the troops, Brawer.”
    “Long live the Queen,” Crux murmured with a saucy wink in Ginny’s direction.
    “Do you pass her around on a regular basis? Is this a perk of the club, or is it considered a special reward to get to fuck the president’s piece?” he taunted drawing an immediate reaction from the young man to Zeke’s right. The kid charged forward, a murderous glint in his eyes.
    Stepping between them, the deputy raised a hand in warning.
    “Rhys …” He didn’t look back when he spoke to Kramer again. “It is up to you, detective, easy way or …”
    “Are you threatening me?” Kramer spat.
    Marchand reached for his handcuffs.  
    “What’s wrong kid? Haven’t made your bones and got a shot at the broad yet?” 
    Zeke grabbed the boy as he went for his weapon. He didn’t say a word. Tension crackled in the bar as matching blue eyes clashed. Jerking his arm away from his father’s grip, Rhys pointed a finger at Kramer.
    “You keep running your mouth about my ma, and I will gut you right here in front of bar, God, and country.”
    Kramer grunted, a smart-assed retort dying on his lips as he found himself spun around and forced face down over a table.
    “You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. If you want to get out of here without a bullet in you, I strongly suggest you exercise that right,” the deputy muttered sarcastically. Hauling the handcuffed man up, he headed toward the door droning the remainder of the Miranda the asshole surely knew.  His stomach churned spotting Mox blocking the door. Having had his run-ins with the brute on the football field, he was in no hurry to test the big man’s brawling skills.