Turning in the direction from which the mug had flown, she spotted Hawk at the hostess station with Aric in his arms. Whatever he was whispering in the boy’s ear made the child smile.

“You’re a good boy, Aric,” Frankie called, then gave Hawk her meanest frown. “If it’s glass, it does not get thrown.”

The bastardo grinned at her.

She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the miscreants. “Who broke the chair and stool?”

“He busted the stool.” The groggy chinless fishermen pointed to his stocky friend who sat beside the broken furniture.

Gabe raised his hand like a grade schooler. “The chair.”

The Chief of Police broke her chair? “Che schifo, that is absolutely disgusting. You are the law in this town, not some…some hoodlum. And those chairs and stools come out of my budget.”

She heard a laugh, Bull’s very deep, resonant laugh. He’d been very tidy—and took two out. She would claim a kiss from her hero…later.

“Right,” Gabe said. “I’ll pay for the chair. Bull can add the stool to the asshole’s bar bill.”

The stocky asshole scowled at Gabe, then Frankie. “No fucking way. I’m not gonna pay for—”

“Vai a farti fottere,” Frankie gritted out and glared at the man.

His eyes widened, and he scooted back several inches. “Uh… Right. On my card. Sure thing.”

She huffed in satisfaction. Men were so fragile. Tell them to fuck themselves, and they caved immediately…even if they couldn’t speak the language.

Although Nonna would be horrified that her granddaughter sounded like a fish wife.

Well, the fight was over, at least. She sighed, her anger cooling. “Do I even want to know what the problem was?”

“We just stepped in to break the fight up, actually,” JJ said as she righted chairs and tables. “That one”—she pointed to the bulldog-jawed one Hawk had nailed with a mug—“he started it because the others said he hadn’t caught the biggest salmon.”

“Seriously?” They messed up her bar for a fish? Frankie threw her hands in the air, then glared at the instigator. “Ficcati una barca in culo con i remi aperti.”

“Dios,” Caz’s eyes widened.

Gabe and Bull both edged closer to him. Bull asked in a whisper, “What’d she say?”

“She told him to insert a boat…anally…with the oars out. Medically speaking, that is very…unhealthy.” Caz shook his head. “I think I’ll just do a bit of first aid now.” He knelt by the man with the knife in him.

“Fuck,” Gabe muttered.

And Bull, her Bull, started laughing—that infectious booming sound that had everyone in the place smiling.

He walked over and put his arms around her. “I love you, New York. You fit in here like you were made for us.” He looked around at the room. “Yeah?”