~Kasumi's P.O.V.~
Kas's eyes were going wonky, she decided. In her peripheral vision, she could see two short guys sitting near the hallway. But when she looked straight at the table, it was empty.
Hadn't she seen Tatum deliver two drinks? He'd stood for a while then returned to the bar with two empty glasses. Had he sucked down two glasses of beer by himself?
She averted her gaze, and in the corner of her eyes, saw the two guys reappear at the table. Very, very short men with waist-length beards. They looked almost like... She snorted. 'Nah. No way.' Then again, she was there looking for warecats... So, maybe, maaaybe, right here and right now, she had two mini men who were escapes from the casting room of Lord of the Rings. Dwarves.
That had been a great movie, but the operative word was movie, not real life. God help her, was she going to have to investigate dwarves next? The task Landon has given her was turning into a complete cluster-fuck.
She set the tray down on the woman's table with a thump that rattled the wine glasses. Forcing a smile, she said, "Here you go." After sitting out the drinks, she glanced around the room. It was too busy right now to investigate that corner table. Evelyn had gotten sick and left work early, leaving Kas the only waitress in the packed tavern.
And who had put on an Elvis Presley tune? Blue Hawaii - in Washington? That was just wrong.
'Who needs a drink next? Frist, clear of the table by the fireplace. Then swing by the pool room. Most of the people in the main room should be okay for a while.' Her gaze lit on the table nearest the door and the two older men that Tatum had been serving. One man was pudgy and short with drooping jowls like an overweight bulldog. The other was over sixty but looked like a junkyard dog - just plain mean with the scars to prove it.
The two glared at her like she'd keyed their favorite pick-up. She checked the bar, but it was surrounded by people. Which meant that Tatum couldn't see that their pitcher of beer was empty. Apparently, the table was her responsibility. 'Duty calls.'
She made her way over, "Gentleman, what can I bring you to drink?"
"You can't bring me bird droppings, monkey face." The pudgy one said in a low rough voice. "Get away from my table before your stench makes me puke."
"Well." Considering she was supposed to also be the bouncer, maybe Tatum would let her toss the asshole out the door to see if he'd bounce. 'No. Be good Sargent.' besides, starting a fight wasn't exactly covert. "Fine, then. If you need something, go to the bar to get it."
He didn't answer, just slammed his almost empty mug down so hard that beer splashed across the table.
Stepping back hastily, Kas bumped the other guys knees.
Junk-yard Dog shoved his drink away and rose to his feet, his deep-lined face distorted with rage. "I don't want you in here. Not you"- his maddened gaze turned toward the table of three women -"and not them either." Snarling like a rabid dog, he lunged at the wide-eyed college girls. "Get out!"
"Oh, fuck." Kas tossed her empty tray on the table and caught the man by his collar. With a hard yank to pull him away from the shrieking women, she whirled, intending to push him out the door.
Rather then pulling away, he slammed himself backwards and elbowed her in the gut.
"Oof." She lost her grip on his shirt. He took two steps and back kicked, trying for her gut.
'Jesus.' She jerked sideways, and he missed. That was a very fast old man just spoiling for a fight. She grinned as adrenaline bubbled into her veins. 'A chance to play? But... mustn't kill him.' When he tried again she grabbed his foot and twisted sharply.
Not wanting her to dislocate his knee, he hit the floor, rolled onto one shoulder, and kicked at her with his free leg. She let go before he could break her fingers.
'Sneaky move.' She thought to herself with respectful nod as she stepped back. 'Had he got the venom out of his system yet?'
She glanced over her shoulder to check her six. The other SOB had a knife.
He lunged at her, the blade coming in fast. She sidestepped. A quick punch to Pudgy's face yielded a satisfying flash of blood. 'God, this is fun.' A sweep of her foot took his feet out from under him, and he landed heavily on his side.
The bitter old guy regained his feet all too fast, moving faster than a SEAL on speed, and dammit, her gut still ached from his elbow. He circled around her, looking for a hole in her defenses. She heard Tatum's deep shout and ignored it. There were a ton of people between the bar and here.
She studied Junkyard Dog, waiting for his move. His eyes didn't look right - he wasn't just drunk... he was crazy mad. When he sprang for her, she dodged without retaliation. He recovered fast and spun around. 'Fucking-A, he really wants to kill me. Now what?' Her job was to keep the peace, not send drunken assholes to the hospital.
The indecision cost her, and his fist slammed into her face and a flash of pain and light. She fell against the table, sending people spinning backwards with angry shouts. Mugs and glasses shattered spilling liquids everywhere.
Flushed with shame, he cheek hurting like hell, she rolled out of the tangle and back to her feet. The bastard smirked at her, damn him. She sprang at him, faking a high punch. His block left him open for a side kick to his gut and am immediate hard follow-through to his face with the same foot. The impact ran up her leg, and he flew like an overweight bird, landing on another table.
She winced. More damages. Tatum would be royally pissed off.