By a Thread by Jennifer Estep Page A

important about her restaurant? And who wanted it so badly that they’d beat her up to get it?
    â€œCallie?” Bria asked in a surprised voice that clearly said she didn’t know anything about her friend’s so-called accident.
    â€œIt was nothing,” Callie replied in a tight tone. “I slipped, that’s all.”
    â€œSure,” Pete said in an easy voice. “She slipped—with a little help from me. And she’s right. That was nothing then. But I think it’s going to be quite a bit more serious than that now just to make sure our boss’s wishes are coming through loud and clear.”
    He went back to the bar,grabbed another bottle of liquor, and drew back his arm, ready to send it flying—right into Callie’s face this time. Callie gasped, and Bria grabbed her friend so she could push Callie behind her.
    â€œHey now,” I said, stepping in front of both of them and holding up my arms like I was going to surrender. “We don’t want any trouble.”
    My move made Pete hesitate for just a second, but that was all the time I needed to grab a bowl of peanuts off the bar and fling it at him. Of course, the bowl and peanuts didn’t do any real damage, but they still made Pete curse and stagger back, which bought me enough time to turn my attention to the real threat here—Trent, the giant, who was already reaching for me.
    I pivoted and lashed out with my foot, driving my sneaker as hard as I could into the giant’s right knee. Trent grunted and hunched over, his leg twisting at an awkward angle, but he didn’t go down. So I stepped forward and slammed my fist into his face. It was like hitting a concrete block, and I felt the jarring impact all the way up to my shoulder, but I managed to put enough force into the blow to make Trent list even farther to one side, like a sailboat about to tip over. Even as his head turned in my direction, I grabbed a wooden chair, hoisted it up, and brought it down on his back. The giant finally lost his balance. His temple clipped the edge of a table before smacking onto the floor, and he let out his first real groan of pain.
    Bria grabbed Callie and pulled her back against the wall and out of my way, while Pete stood in front of the bar, his mouth open in surprise.
    The chair had splintered onimpact, and I snatched up one of the thick round legs from the floor. Before Trent could even think about defending himself, I crawled onto his back and hooked the chair leg underneath his thick neck. Then I leaned back as far as I could, grinding the wood into his throat and cutting off his air. The giant flailed around on his hands and knees, trying to buck me off like he was a wild bronco that I was riding, but I dug my knees into his ribs, tightened my grip on the chair leg, and hung on. Thirty seconds later, he slumped to the floor, unconscious.
    I tossed the chair leg away, got to my feet, and turned to his friend.
    Pete’s mouth fell open a little more when he realized that Trent was out of the fight already, but he wasted no time smashing the bottle that he was still holding against the bar. The liquor that had been inside splashed everywhere, adding even more harsh fumes to the mix, while the handle broke off in his hand. The jagged edges glinted like razor-sharp diamonds.
    I’d thought—even hoped—that Pete might hightail it out the door once his buddy was down, so that I could at least try to keep the violence to a minimum. But I could tell by the anger flashing in his eyes that he just wasn’t that smart.
    â€œYou stupid, bitch,” he growled. “Don’t you know who we work for? Not that it matters now, because I’m going to cut you to pieces for messing with Trent.”
    I shook my sleeve, and a silverstone knife slid into my left hand. The weapon was one of five that I normally carried on me. Two up mysleeves, two in the sides of my boots, one against the small of my