Chapter 23 Bar Brawl

Chapter 23 Bar Brawl
Dane took another sip of warm beer. The ancient clock above the bar threatened to strike midnight. Behind him, pool balls clacked and sunk into worn pockets. Last time he checked, Snake had been down twenty bucks and was in a foul temper.
Dane's mood wasn't any better either. He wanted to get on the road and get back to camp. They'd been gone all day transacting business for Bogen, which was bad enough. Then Snake suggested they stop for a beer. which typically wouldn't have been an issue. Dane had never liked Snake, but he'd always been careful to give him his due as one of the brethren. He'd also gleaned a lot of vital information from Snake over the course of his investigation. When drunk, Snake tended to talk too much.

Tonight, though, Dane wasn't in the mood. They should have been back hours ago. Tessa was most likely miserable. Snake knew it too. This was just another way to get back at Dane for keeping her to himself.
Once more, Dane's thoughts strayed to the woman who was chained to his bed. They had barely spoken since he kissed her two nights ago. The sexual tension between them was tangible, a seething cauldron on the verge of boiling over. God, he wanted her, needed her even. The same way he physically needed his next breath. He glanced at the clock once more, mind made up. He was leaving, with or without Snake.
Snake's voice from the back of the bar broke into his thoughts. "You ain't quitting until I get my money back."
Dane turned, cursing as he caught sight of Snake threatening his opponent with a cue stick. And sneaking up behind Snake, was a man with a chair in his hands.
"Look out!" Dane yelled out too late. The chair crashed across Snake's lower back, wood splintering.

Snake doubled over and shook his head, then let out a guttural yell before charging the dumbfounded man who'd hit him. The man hadn't moved, clearly expecting Snake to go down. Dane shoved himself into the melee, intent on dragging Sanke away even if it meant knocking him out cold. The bartender was already on the phone calling the cops, which meant they probably had less than five minutes to get the hell out of there.
The wet floor glistened with sharp shards of broken glass from a beer bottle. A fist brushed off Dane's jaw. Dane grabbed the man who'd thrown the punch, spinning him around and twisting his arm painfully behind him.
"Do that again, and I'll break it," Dane hissed.
The front doors swung open, and three deputies hurried in. "Freeze! Sheriff's department!"
"Jesus, he's breaking my arm." The man Dane held started squealing like a high school chick, switching easily from aggressor to victim. "Make him stop! Officer!"

Two of the deputies had weapons drawn. Simultaneously, they pointed them at Dane. "Hands on your head, scumbag!"
Moving slowly, Dane released the man and did exactly as the deputies instructed. In seconds, he was flat on his stomach, his wrists cuffed behind him.
"You guys want to help me with this one?" the third deputy asked.
Dane twisted his head, catching sight of Snake standing in the corner, a broken cue stick held threateningly out in front of him.
"Drop the stick, now!" one of the officers commanded.
Snake smiled maliciously. "Why don't you try to take it from me?"
The question went unanswered as a fourth deputy, who'd crept in the back door, hit Snake on the back of the head with his black baton. Snake crumpled, dropping in an unconscious heap on the floor.

One of the officers radioed for an ambulance while rough hands yanked Dane to his feet. Shoving him forward against the pool table, another deputy patted him down searching for weapons. They confiscated his knife.
"You're under arrest, pal." The deputy grinned, clearly enjoying the feeling of power his badge implied. "Disorderly conduct. Assault and battery. You have the right to remain silent..."
Dane knew they were going to jail. Knew there was nothing he could do about it. The best he could do was cooperate and act drunk, in hopes they'd get him processed into the local jail as soon as possible. He had a phone call coming, and the sooner he made it, the better.