Maggie shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and caught up with Caleb and Linnie. The latter was accepting a shot of something when Maggie reached them, and Caleb was asking the bartender what he had on tap.

At Maggie’s appearance, Caleb finished ordering and patted the stool next to him. “Have a seat. Nice place. Smells great. What can I get you?”

A bartender slid a dark ale his way. Caleb didn’t notice the man’s scowl. He was smiling at Maggie.

An escape route. A disguise. “Pepsi sounds good.”

He nodded and turned to place the order, but the bartender had stomped to the other end of the curved bar. Caleb smiled apologetically. “I’m sure he’ll be back in a minute.” Linnie, on his opposite side, murmured something, and he glanced her way with a laugh.

The bartender stood with his wide shoulders bunched up, facing a couple of patrons, a guy in a plaid flannel shirt and a woman wearing a baseball cap. The two of them were looking straight at Maggie.

She lowered her gaze. Dizziness hit her—woozy fear, warm embarrassment. I have to get out of here.

Her pulse pounding, she fought the urge to flee and concentrated on the scarred surface of the bar, shivered, and pulled her jacket more tightly across her chest.

Caleb shared a laugh with Linnie, then leaned back as if abruptly aware that Maggie wasn’t in on the joke. His smile faded. “You don’t have a drink yet. Sorry about that.” He called to the bartender, “Excuse me?”

The man didn’t turn, but his shoulders jerked.

Caleb gave a shake of his head. “Excuse me? Bartender?”

The man still didn’t turn. But he did move. Stiffly, he stepped to the side, kneed open a short gate on the opposite end of the bar, and stormed toward the kitchen entrance, saying loudly on his way out, “Cunt.”

The music blared. Maggie, hot-faced and motionless with shock, wondered why someone had turned up the volume. Then she realized no one had. It was just that the conversations had ceased. Nothing muffled Taylor Swift gushing about a guy, handsome as hell. The people along the bar weren’t looking at Maggie anymore. They’d become very interested in their drinks.

Caleb half-rose, his eyes wide with horrified amazement.

Linnie slammed down her glass and strode to Maggie’s side. “Come on. If that fucker can’t give you a fucking Pepsi, he can damn well give Caleb and me our drinks on the house.” To Caleb, who’d drawn out his wallet, she ordered, “Put that away.”

A thick-necked man near Maggie snarled, “It’s best for all of us if you take your friend and leave. Who knows what she’ll do if she doesn’t get served to her satisfaction?” He barked a laugh and swatted the person on his left.