The bar went quiet the second Craig Bowman kicked the door open. Every head turned, every hand froze, but under the corner table, pressed against the cold wooden leg, a 7-year-old girl held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut. She had crawled there 30 seconds before he walked in.
Duke Callahan hadn’t moved, hadn’t looked down, hadn’t said a word. He just wrapped one massive tattooed hand around his glass and stared straight at the man scanning the room with fury in his eyes. Nobody knew what was about to happen. Not Craig, not Pete behind the bar, not even Lily. But Duke Callahan had already made his decision.
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