Page 81 of All I Need (Hearts of the South)
Recognition slammed into Emmett with his first glance at the participants. Harry Nix and Jake Stringham. Fuck, seriously? Stringham was an ass with the same training as the rest of them and would be a bitch if they had to take him down.
And the last time Emmett had dealt with an intoxicated Harry Nix, he’d ended up with a bullet mere inches from his femoral artery.
The two men circled each other warily. Beer bottle held by the neck in a loose grip and a wide gash over his brow, Stringham didn’t drop his gaze from Harry’s face. Blood poured from Harry’s nose, and he brandished a broken pool cue.
Tracking both men, Emmett rested his hand above his Taser, aware his fellow officers did the same. He had no desire to escalate the situation, but he wasn’t going to let Harry shoot him again, either.
“Gentlemen, why don’t we walk outside and talk about this?” Walker pitched his voice low and calm.
“Nah, we gonna finish this.” Harry slapped the pool cue against his palm. “I’m gonna finish him.”
“Harry, come on outside and talk to me.” Emmett matched Walker’s even tone. Harry actually looked in his direction. Emmett held out a hand, other still close to his Taser. “Come on, man. Let me have that.”
Stringham flicked a glance over the four of them, and something in that look prickled the back of Emmett’s neck.
Harry was drunk, and that made him a little angry and stupid. Stringham was angry and desperate, and that made him dangerous.
They fanned again, controlling the perimeter while still maintaining visual contact with the two men as well as the gatherers.
“Jake, is this worth it?” Walker tilted his head toward the door. “Let’s go talk.”
Eyes narrowed, Stringham lifted his chin and eyed them a moment. He glanced from Walker and Emmett to the door and back. “All right.”
“Harry.” Troy Lee jerked his thumb toward the back of the club. “Let’s me and you go over there and have a chat.”
Mouth tight but seeming to recognize his opportunity to “finish” Stringham was gone, Harry nodded and walked away.
Emmett and Walker let Stringham walk between them and take the lead toward the door, closing into a V formation behind him. The line of Stringham’s shoulders was impossibly tight, and instinct tickled to life in Emmett. He moved his hand to rest directly on the Taser’s butt.
Walker frowned. “Jake, drop the bottle.”
They hadn’t kept him off balance, and he was too close as they approached the door. The realizations sank in at the same moment Stringham swung the bottle into Emmett’s jaw.
Pain exploded above his chin. Emmett grabbed Stringham’s forearm and used the other man’s own momentum to bring him prone. Stringham’s body hit the dusty tile floor with a solid thud, and Emmett followed him down. Knee planted firmly on Stringham’s back, he pulled the forearm back and cuffed one wrist. Walker used pressure points to guide Stringham’s other hand back and Emmett rasped the other cuff closed and double-locked them.
Blood dripped from the corner of Emmett’s mouth. He brushed his wrist over his lips, the weird taste and smell echoing in his nostrils. “Fuck.”
“Sorry.” Walker glanced up from a thorough search of Stringham’s person. “We gotta practice that.”
“Yeah.” Emmett leaned down and grasped Stringham’s belt. “Up.”
Working in tandem, they brought Stringham to his feet and propelled him through the door.
* * * * *
“It’s about to start back up, isn’t it?” Mackey passed his wrist across his forehead.
“Oh, yeah.” Leaning against the counter, Cook fiddled with the squelch on his handheld radio. “Ambulances are out on calls or transport, and our guys are bringing in at least three with medical complaints from the disturbance out at Spirits.”
“Spirits?” Savannah glanced at Mackey and dropped the chart onto the stack already waiting. They’d had two burn victims from a kitchen grease fire on top of three teenagers with minor injuries following a traffic accident.
“Dive bar out on Highway 3.” Cook frowned, listening to the low buzz of calls on the radio. “We get at least a couple of calls a month out there.”
The back door slammed open, and a wave of auditory pandemonium rolled in. Oh, hell, no. Not in her ER.
She and Mackey spun toward the door, his scowl matching hers. They hadn’t even made it into the hallway yet, and the noise was crazy. A male voice, oddly familiar, yelled obscenities and threats.
“What the hell?” Cook strode toward the door, Savannah and Mackey at his heels. Layla came running down the hall.
