Wayne snorts quietly. “You have no idea.”
A moment later Cole comes back, and whatever he saw in the back clearly didn’t improve his mood. His expression is darker now, his shoulders set tight. “Has to be Voss,” he says.
Wayne nods once. “That’s what I figured.”
I blink between the two of them. “Okay, I feel like I missed a meeting somewhere. Who’s Voss, and why is he wrecking my bar?”
Cole looks at me, his expression steady but serious. “It means someone thinks they can lean on this place,” he says. “They break a few windows, make a mess, leave a note, and expect you to panic and pay them to stop.”
I glance around the bar again, taking in the broken glass and boarded windows. My fingers tighten against the edge of the counter. “Well,” I say slowly, “that seems like a stupid plan.”
Cole studies me for a moment, then nods once. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “It really does.”
Wayne glares at me from behind the bar like he’s deciding whether to throw the broom or me out the door.
“Rae, so help me God,” he says, pointing a finger at me, “this isn’t your fucking bar. It’s mine. Now get out of here before I fire you.”
I press a hand to my chest like he just stabbed me in the heart. “You wound me, old man.”
Then I promptly ignore him and turn back to the biker boys.
One of them is still standing near the hallway where the back door got kicked in, looking over the splintered frame. Another one is crouched near the window boards, studying the cracks in the glass behind them.
“So,” I say, leaning a hip against the bar like the place isn’t currently half-destroyed. “You guys just ride around solving problems for local businesses, or did Wayne put out a bat signal I didn’t know about?”
The guy by the window snorts.
Cole is still watching me.
His eyes move from the broom in my hand to Wayne behind the bar and back again like he’s trying to decide which of us is the bigger problem.
Wayne throws his hands in the air. “You see what I’m dealing with?”
Cole’s mouth twitches slightly.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m getting the picture.”
I point the broom at him. “Don’t encourage him.”
“You’re encouraging yourself just fine,” Wayne mutters.
I sweep another small pile of glass into the dustpan before straightening again. “So this Voss guy,” I say, looking back at Cole. “Let me guess. Charming personality. Great with customer service.”
One of the bikers chuckles.
Cole shakes his head slightly. “Something like that.”
“He does this a lot?” I ask. “Or did we just win some kind of terrible lottery?”
Wayne answers before Cole can. “He’s been leaning on bars down south for a while now. Places that don’t want trouble and can’t afford to fight back.”
I glance around The Rust Nail again.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “He picked the wrong bar.”
Cole watches me for another second, then nods slowly.
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
