“Need to take off?” he asked, compassion lighting his pale blue eyes as he watched her intently.

“Who’s going to cover me?” She smiled back at him, appreciating the offer. “You’ll have Sierra out there serving drinks if you lose any more waitresses tonight.”

He grimaced at the thought. “She’ll start a riot.”

“She does every time,” Eve agreed with a little nod as she moved to the door and he backed up.

Closing the door behind her, she let him have the keys when he reached for them, and waited while he locked the door before handing them back to her.

“Tell Kota that if he needs liquor to call back and I’ll bring it out to him,” he offered quietly. “That way you don’t have to lug those bottles.” He nodded to the two in her arms.

“Got it, boss,” she promised, smiling back at him before heading back up the corridor quietly and moving back into the bar area.

Wow, whatever those two were talking about, he didn’t want to risk anyone hearing it again.

She doubted it was anything illegal. She knew John Walker and his wife too well, just as she knew her brother and cousins too well, to ever believe they would work on the wrong side of the law.

John and his friend were up to something, though, and that was scary. Because whatever John got into, then her brother and cousins were sure to follow. It was just the way it was when it came to Mackays and their family or friends. And John, his sister Rogue, and the Mackays, were definitely friends. And then—and she knew this well from the stories she had heard—then Timothy Cranston would get involved. . . .

Damn, she didn’t even want to consider the consequences there.

As she dropped the bottles off with Kota, he was placing the last of the drinks she had ordered on the tray.

Handing over the keys, she gave him John’s message and started to turn away.

“Everything okay, Evie?” he asked her as she paused. “You’re looking tired.”

“Headache coming on.” She sighed. “And I don’t think John liked me being in the back rooms, Kota, so I’d feel better if I didn’t have to do any more runs.”

“What makes you think that?” He tilted his head to the side curiously.

Eve gave a little shrug. “It was just a feeling.”

“Hell, the waitresses always go back there.” Kota frowned.

She gave a negligent shrug. “I just know what he said, Kota, and I don’t want to step on any toes, ya know?”

“Got it, sweet pea.” He gave a quick smile and nod, his expression clearing. “I’ll make sure you stay on the floor.”

Yippee.

Breathing out wearily at the thought, she grabbed the tray of drinks the other bartender, Matteo, pushed to her, and moved back into the throng. Though this time she carefully skirted the table where Brogan and Sandi sat.

She would have loved to know what the hell was going on with John— No, she didn’t want to know, she told herself quickly. She knew his type far too well. He was too much like Brogan, her brother Dawg, and her cousins Natches and Rowdy.

Brogan, John, Kota, and Matteo were cut from the same cloth, and to poke into their business was to invite trouble.

No, it was to beg for trouble.

She’d had enough trouble in her life before coming to Somerset to dare invite more. And she had no doubt in her mind that John was up to something. The group of men her brother was close to was always up to something.

She wasn’t so certain about Brogan yet, though she had hoped to find out. That aura of danger that surrounded him assured her that not knowing was probably for the best, though. This was as dangerous as she wanted her life to get, she assured herself as she evaded male hands attempting to pat her rear, cup a breast, or convince her to dance.

Her head was beginning to throb like gremlins were attempting to dig out her brains. And the gremlins were beginning to grow.

Glancing back to the table Brogan sat at, Eve saw Sandi running her fingers through his hair as she leaned toward his ear and said something. Eve’s temples began to pound even more. Anger was rushing through her, crashing through her system and making her headache worse as she delivered the drinks to the proper table.

“Hey, Eve, that party in the corner is talking about rolling, and I don’t see a designated.” One of the bouncers stopped her as she delivered drinks to another table. “Should I call a cab?”

“Let me check,” she suggested. “Someone came in earlier whom I haven’t seen drinking yet.”

Moving to the women laughing and gathering their things together, Eve stepped to the table and caught the attention of the newcomer who had arrived late.

Tall, dressed in a pair of knee-length baggy shorts and a T-shirt, the other woman sat back in her chair watching the group with a smile. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, the long excess pulled through the back of the ball cap she wore.

“Hey, Samantha,” Eve greeted the detective who had just been hired to work with the Somerset police force. “You designated tonight?”

An amused smile crossed the other woman’s strong features as she adjusted the low-profile cap she wore.

“I have them. A friend is waiting outside with another car so we could get them all.” Samantha laughed. “Though I’m wondering if I shouldn’t just arrest the lot of them.”

The women groaned, then laughed as though the detective had just told some incredible joke.

“I’ll leave them to you, then.” Eve nodded.

“Hey, Evie.” One of the partygoers waved at her enthusiastically. “Where’s your sister?”

Eve laughed back. “Which one?”

“The one Samantha was asking Mellie about,” she replied suggestively, her drunken demeanor more insulting than curious. “Samantha is—”

“Fed up with the drunkards.” Samantha rose to her feet, adjusted her cap, and glared back at the others. “Let’s go if you’re going, or your asses can sit here.”

Firm and reminding Eve far too much of the Mackays’ tones when they’d gotten tired of the bullshit, Samantha Bryce had the women moving within seconds.

Eve shook her head at the tottering group. She stood aside and watched them make their way to the exit as Samantha herded them along like children.

Poor Samantha and whoever her friend was. Getting those women to their respective homes wasn’t going to be done easily.

“You really should give it up and stop casting him those puppy-dog looks.”

Turning around slowly, Eve stared back at Sandi, wondering what she had done for karma to want to kick her ass tonight.

“Go away, Sandi,” she retorted wearily. She was really getting tired of this crap.

“If he wanted you, he wouldn’t be there with us,” Sandi stated then.

“Or he could just be waiting for me to get off work.” Eve turned back to the other woman, her smile deliberately challenging. “Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .”

She didn’t wait for Sandi to excuse her or not. Picking up her tray, she moved toward the bar.

“Brogan’s not white trash, Eve,” Sandi continued behind her.

“You should know, Sandi.” What the hell was it going to take to get rid of this woman?

“At least I didn’t sell myself to some rich pervert, like your mother did,” Sandi stated, disgust heavy in her voice as Eve started to step up from the main floor to the bar area.

Oh, that was it.

Eve swung around so fast, so furiously that Sandi nearly ran into her. The other woman had to back up quickly, nearly tipping and falling on the stilts she called shoes.

“What did you just say to me?” Eve demanded, the anger she had been fighting to keep a rein on all night breaking free.

“Oh, you heard me.” Sandi sneered as Eve glimpsed Brogan rising to his feet, his expression suspicious as his gaze locked on her and Sandi. “I might be white trash, but you and your family are nothing but low-class whores.”

“Like your opinion matters,” Eve mocked.

She wasn’t going to resort to violence. There were other ways to finish this, later. Clenching her teeth, she moved to turn away, determined to wait, to bide her time.