Page 3 of Fighting for Irish
Chapter One
Two months later…
Aiden scanned the room of the rowdy backwoods bar and studied the various stages of inebriation of its patrons: drunk, really drunk, and totally shitfaced.
The crowd had hit its peak, but Kat MacGregor, who went by the ill-fitting alias Sydney Carter, kept pace between the bar and her tables without any problems.
Since finding her, Aiden had gotten himself hired as a cooler for the bar and allowed to put together a small team. It had only taken a couple days of observing the damage caused by nightly bar fights to sell Lou on the idea. Especially since they were getting paid just as shitty as the rest of the employees. The bar owner ended up making out in the deal, since he didn’t have to keep replacing beer glasses and tables.
Aiden had called his good friend and old teammate, Xander James, and soon after, Xan had loaded up his worldly possessions and Aiden’s other bike and driven down to become part of the team and “find his next adventure.”
Aiden had recruited Johnny Anders and a couple of Johnny’s buddies to round out the team. Now, on any given night, Lou’s had two coolers working the floor. Usually three or four on weekends, depending on when the full moon came around because the crazy seemed to flow like the beer on those days.
The hardest part had been teaching Johnny and the others the difference between a bouncer and a cooler. They kept thinking that their job was to step in once an issue became a problem, which was the job of a bouncer.
Coolers were proactive. They did their best to contain things before they became problems, ensuring the bar stayed busy, if a little on the rambunctious side.
Xan and Aiden had to shadow them the first couple weeks to show them what they were supposed to look for as coolers. Once they got the hang of it, though, there was a lot less broken shit to clean up at the end of the night. Not that a night at Lou’s Riverview was anything close to calm and uneventful, but it was a lot less volatile than before.
And if he could make Kat’s environment a little safer for now, then he was satisfied.
“Same shite, different night, eh mate?” The British-accented voice of Xander crackled through the comm-link in his ear. Aiden had ponied up the cash for those babies, which had been the deal clincher for Lou. So long as his backup could hear him if he needed them, he didn’t care.
Every Friday night was the same. When the people of Alabaster blew off steam from their workweek, the bar became a hotbed for trouble. Emotions ran high, fueled by pitchers of beer and rounds of shots. The entire scene was underscored by the classic rock and country music blaring through the sound system.
“Always is,” he said absently as Kat whooshed by holding a tray of bottlenecks.
Barely turning his head, he followed her with his eyes. The swing of her hips and curve of her ass damn near hypnotized him. Kat made waitressing look like an art form, simultaneously weaving her way through the crowd, delivering trays of drinks, and beating back the locals with her sharp wit and even sharper tongue.
As he moved through the land of the inebriated, he searched for signs of trouble and kept one eye on the spunky redhead. She knew how to handle herself and, unlike the other waitresses, never called on the coolers for help. But that never stopped him from intervening. There was always a bad apple in the bunch that didn’t use the sense God gave him.
If he noticed a potential threat, he’d move in and take care of it before it escalated. If his presence alone wasn’t enough, a well-worded threat against the family jewels usually did the trick. Around these parts, the “family” kind was all they had and they tended to prefer them intact.
The first time he’d run interference for Kat with a less-than-polite customer, she’d stared at him incredulously. He’d only managed to stare back, unable to find his words with those light blue eyes turned on him, before she spun on her heel and stormed off. That happened a few more times: him stepping in, an awkward staring contest, and a silent retreat.
Then, one night after he’d “escorted” a guy out in a chokehold for grabbing her ass, she stalked up to him outside with narrowed eyes and fists planted on slender hips. “I can take care of myself.”
Aiden crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t doubt that.”
“Then knock it off. The other coolers aren’t as meddling as you. Dealing with a certain amount of crap gets me decent tips. You scowling at every customer who looks at me wrong is cutting into my bottom line, buddy.”
Aiden hadn’t considered that the waitresses got tipped better if they let the men flirt or paw at them. He scowled. He didn’t want to hurt her financially, but there was no way he was backing off. “How much would you say you lose every time I interfere?”
She threw her hands in the air, clearly frustrated. “Five, ten, twenty bucks? How the hell should I know?”
He nodded. “Then I’ll give you twenty bucks every time I keep some asshole’s hands off you.”
Her brows drew together and the starch left her spine. “I don’t want your money, Irish.” He liked the way his name sounded on her lips. Or his nickname, anyway. Just like she used an alias, he’d stuck with his old nickname from his fighting days. Xander was the only one there who knew his real name—and his secrets—and he intended to keep it that way.
“Are you listening to me?” she asked. “I want you to back off.”
Like hell he would. “Can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?”
He couldn’t tell her that any more than he could back off like she wanted. Couldn’t tell her that his reason for leaving his home on the South side of Boston for Bumfuck Nowhere had started out as a favor owed to a friend and ended up as something else entirely. That from the moment he saw her, his promise to make sure she was okay for her sister’s peace of mind came second to his own inexplicable need to watch over her. To protect her.
Fighting the urge to pull her into his arms and chase away the ghosts he saw in her eyes, Aiden shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “As long as I’m around, no one touches you without an invitation.” Unable to help himself, he lowered his head and whispered in her ear. “No one.”
