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After John’s buddies disappeared into the back with the R&Ws, Xhex walked over to the kid for no good reason. He stiffened as he caught sight of her, but he always did that, just like he always watched her. When you were head of security, folks tended to want to know where you were.

“How you doing?” she asked.

He shrugged and fiddled with his Corona bottle. Bet he wished it had a label to pick off, she thought.

“Mind if I ask you something?”

His eyes popped a little, but he shrugged again.

“Why don’t you ever go to the back with your boys?” It was, of course, none of her damned business, and what was more, she didn’t know why she cared. But hell . . . maybe it was all the first-Tuesday-of-the-month shit. She was looking to get out of her own head.

“The girlies like you,” she prompted. “I’ve seen them checking you out. And you look at them, but you always stay out here.”

John Matthew flushed so deep she could see the red even in the dim light.

“You already tied up?” she murmured, even more curious. “The king pick you out a female?”

He shook his head.

Okay, she needed to leave him alone. The poor kid was a mute, so how did she expect him to answer her?

“I want my drink now!” The booming male voice cut through the music, and Xhex swiveled her head around. Two banquettes away, one of the big-daddy blowhard types was aggressing on a waitress, clearly on the express train to I’m-an-Ass-ville.

“Excuse me,” Xhex said to John.

As the loudmouth reached out his bear claw and grabbed the waitress’s skirt, the poor girl lost control of her tray and cocktails went flying. “I said, gimme my drink now!”

Xhex stepped up behind the waitress and steadied her. “Don’t worry about it. He’s leaving.”

The man lumbered up out of his seat to a full height of about six-four. “Am I?”

Xhex stepped in close until they were breast-to-chest. She locked eyes on him, her symphath urges screaming to be let out, but she focused on the metal barbs she had clamped around her thighs. Taking strength from the pain she inflicted on herself, she fought off her nature.

“You will leave now,” she said softly, “or I will drag you out of here by your hair.”

The man had breath like a day-old tuna sandwich. “I hate dykes. You always think you’re tougher than you really—”

Xhex grabbed the man’s wrist, turned him in a little circle, and cranked his arm up to the middle of his back. Then she clipped her leg around his ankles and shoved him off balance. He landed like a side of beef, the wind getting knocked out of him on a curse, his body plowing into the short-napped carpet.

In a quick move, she bent down, buried one hand in his gelled-up hair, and locked the other on the collar of his suit jacket. As she dragged him face-first to the side exit, she was multitasking: creating a scene, committing both an assault and a battery, and running the risk of a brawl if his buddies in the Hall of Fucktards got involved. But you had to put on a show every once in a while. Every one of the entitled assholes in the VIP section was watching, as were her bouncers, who were edgy characters to start with, and the working girls, most of whom had totally understandable anger-management issues.

To keep the peace, you had to get your hands dirty every once in a while.

And, considering all the hair product this bigmouth used, she was so going to need to wash up after this was over.

When she got to the side exit by the Brotherhood’s table, she paused to open the door, but John got there first. Like a total gentleman, he swung the thing wide and held it that way with his long arm.

“Thanks,” she said.

Out in the alley, she flipped the bigmouth asshole over on his back and went through his pockets. As he lay there blinking like a fish in the bottom of a boat, the search was another infraction on her part. She had police powers on club property, but the alley was technically owned by the city of Caldwell. More to the point, though, the zip code of this hand job was irrelevant. The search would have been illegal,