Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 8

you could do was keep your nose from colliding with their fists.
    After Harlan had fired his signal, a flood of agents inundated the joint like a tidal wave. Outside, the wagons had their rears to the exit with their doors wide open and welcoming. Two full wagons had driven off, leaving another three. Sure, some folks would get away, but not the one he had his eye on. Nope, Shifty— the saloon's owner had a wagon reserved especially for him.
    Delivering a blow to the mug with the lousy right hook, Nathan made straight for the bar where Shifty was feverishly stuffing money from the cash register into his pockets. Spotting the chair less than a foot away from his target, Nathan said a quick prayer that the cheap piece of furniture would hold his weight and ran straight for it. Luckily it did, and he used it to give him the extra boost he needed to jump onto the bar's counter and snatch a fistful of Shifty's collar. With a fierce jerk, he dragged the weasel up and looked him in the eye.
    "You've poisoned your last patron, you greasy little bastard."
    For weeks, Nathan had been after this low-life, following up on tip-offs that had led to nothing but empty houses, all hooch having been cleared out days before. He'd started to suspect that someone at headquarters was helping Shifty out, and even wondered if he'd ever get his hands on the guy.
    Shifty Regal was a lousy two-bit hood responsible for the purchase and distribution of poisoned liquor from the black market, poison which then ended up in the glasses of unsuspecting citizens. Despite that, Shifty was small fish, but he swam in a big pond— Christopher Masin's pond.
    "I ain't poisoned no one!" Shifty spat out, taking a swing at Nathan, who'd been expecting as much. He caught the man's fist, gave it a brutal twist, and ignoring the satisfying yelp, used his free hand to smack Shifty's face into the hard wood counter, bloodying his nose. Cuffing the bastard, he paused long enough to whisper in his ear.
    "Your lies are as rotten as you are. We're gonna have a chat soon, and you're gonna tell me everything there is to know about Christopher Masin,"
    Just as the words left his mouth, Harlan shouted out a warning.
    "Nate! Get down!"
    Without hesitation, Nathan rolled off the bar, hitting the floor with a painful thud. A shotgun blast tore through the air seconds behind him, followed by another gunshot. When he looked up, there was a thug on the floor in a pool of his own blood, a shotgun at his side. Scrambling to his feet, Nathan was relieved to see Shifty still alive. The last thing he needed was to lose his golden goose.
    "Are you okay?" Harlan asked worriedly, giving him a once over.
    "Yeah, I'm fine," Nathan muttered, dusting off his suit. God only knew what was on that floor. It was probably in his best interest he not find out. "What kind of goddamn idiot fires at an agent in a room swarmed with agents?"
    "I think you answered your own question," Harlan replied, taking a look around them. There were fewer people left, but that didn't mean they weren't putting up a good fight, a fight their fellow agents were more than happy to give back. At least Mel and his hay-for-brains partner hadn't joined the party, which meant people ended up walking out rather than carried out on gurneys.
    "Harley, we gotta get him someplace safe before they try to take him off our hands, permanently."
    Shifty gave a snort. Or at least made a noise as close to a snort as possible with a bloodied nose. "If you think I'm gonna say anythin', you're dumber than you look, Prohi. I ain't no rat."
    Sometimes it was just too easy. Nathan turned to Harlan with a big grin. "Hear that, pal? He just called you dumb."
    "Did he now?" Harlan grabbed Shifty with one hand and pulled him off the bar, dangling the boney thug several inches from the ground. Nathan would never admit it, but he thoroughly enjoyed seeing Harlan do things like that. He'd yet to see a thug who didn't reconsider his position after coming face to face with his partner's six and half feet, two hundred and twenty pound, muscular frame. Not even Dempsey would last two rounds against Harlan Mackay. It sent a little shiver up Nathan's spine, one he disguised quite expertly by leaning against the bar with his arms folded over his chest. He watched Shifty squirm under Harlan's penetrating gaze.
    "Did you just call me dumb?"
    "That's a load of baloney," Shifty laughed nervously. "Me? Call you dumb? Nah, I wouldn't do that." He twisted,