The Whiskeys were her motorcycle-riding, tatted-up, leather-clad guardian angels. She’d met them through the Parkvale Women’s Shelter, where she’d stayed after escaping her abusive ex. The shelter was run by another Dark Knights family, and Wayne “Bones” Whiskey, a physician, volunteered there. The Whiskeys had helped her get back on her feet, giving her this job, and more importantly, welcoming her into their large, though close-knit, circle of family and friends. Including her roommate, Izzy Ryder, whom she’d lived with since leaving the shelter. Izzy also bartended at Whiskey Bro’s. The Whiskeys did so much for the community, it seemed like everyone in Peaceful Harbor knew them. Tracey had been isolated for so many years before getting away from Dennis, it had taken her a while to let her guard down, but the Whiskeys and their friends had been patient, making her feel safe and wanted, like she was part of a real family again.

Thoughts of her mother pressed in, bringing a wave of sadness. They’d had a falling-out when she’d moved away with Dennis, and now, six long years later, she didn’t even know where her mother was. But she couldn’t afford to get lost in that devastating swamp right now. She had five more hours of tips to earn.

She flashed a friendly smile at the slick-talking guy in the denim jacket, who was far too into himself, as she set the pitcher and glasses on the table. He and his friends were passing through town for a couple of nights, or so he’d said when they’d arrived. “Sorry this took so long, gentlemen.”

“No problem. Seein’ your pretty face was worth the wait.” Mr. Slick lifted his chin in the direction of the bar. “What’s the deal with you and Bigfoot?”

“If I had a dollar for every time I’ve asked myself that, I’d be a rich woman by now.”