Let me tell you how all this started—with a tray of cold beer bottles so heavy they threatened to topple me over. With shoes pinching my feet and a football game on the television.

An innocuous beginning to a nightmare.

The bar was packed for a Friday night. At least that meant I'd have money for groceries this week. Assuming the frat boys watching the game actually tipped me.

"What time do you get off, sweetheart?" one of them slurred.

His friend snorted. "He wants to get you off, all right."

Charming. "I have a boyfriend."

It was a lie, and they clearly knew it. Or they didn't care. The first one reached for my ass, and I slapped his hand away. My tray of drinks wobbled but didn't fall. Thank God, because that would come out of my check. And I seriously doubted Dumb and Dumber would chip in even though it would be their fault.

"Your tab," I said, slapping down the bill.

They both groaned. Soon enough they were arguing over who drank how many, and I slipped away to deliver the rest of my drinks.

I weaved through the busy barroom with an agility born of practice. Waiting tables in a too—tight tank top was not a career anyone aspired to, but after watching my grandmother deteriorate and the money dwindle, it was all I could manage. The last of my student loan money had gone to pay her funeral arrangements. I didn't regret doing it, but six months later I had a mountain of debt and no college degree.

"Rachel," someone called.

My coworker waved me over, a worried expression on her face. Shit. I knew her kid's fever had been spiking when she'd dropped him off at the sitter's.

After sliding the last few drinks onto the correct tables, I met her with any empty tray. "You okay?"

"I am, but Dylan's not," she said, her forehead creased. "I got a call. His fever went to 104."

I knew nothing about kids but that had to be bad. "Did she give him medicine?"

"It's not working. I…I need to be there."

"Of course." I understand that, and Krissy had supported me when Gram was sick. Still, we'd been understaffed all night, just me and her. If she left… "Of course you have to be with him. I'll handle things."

She made a face. "Vincent picked up some tail and left an hour ago. I seriously doubt he's coming back tonight."

Vincent was the owner and used the bar as his own personal breeding pool. "Then I'll close up. It's not like I haven't done it before."

But I hadn't done it alone. This wasn't a safe neighborhood.

Krissy frowned and glanced toward the back. "And you'd have to take over my tables."

Case in point—the group of scary guys occupying the corner table. I'd counted myself lucky when they'd sat in Krissy's section, but it looked like fate had other plans. "Then I'll take over your tables. Look, it isn't ideal, but we don't have any other choice. You can't just work here if your kid needs you."

I wasn't kidding about that, she was vibrating with worry and already inching toward the other end of the counter.

"I'll owe you," she promised. "Big time."

"You're just collecting on a favor," I told her. "I'm sure I racked up more than one from when Gram… well, from before."

Her smile was sympathetic. "Call me when you get home, or I'll worry."

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously?"

"Someone has to," she said with one last wave. And then she was gone, grabbing her purse from behind the bar and practically running out the door. I sent a little prayer up that she and Dylan wouldn't have too rough of a time.

A whistle came from behind me. So much for break time. I'd be running to keep up with the place.

My heart began to pound when I realized just who had been calling me. One of the rough—as—hell characters from the back. I'd hoped they would leave soon.

Luck was not on my side tonight.

I forced a pleasant but bland smile on my face. Something agreeable but that wouldn't invite them to feel me up. "Evening. I'll be your new server."

A hush came over the group, and I swallowed hard. Six men stared at me, all of them hard and intimidating. Some had tats and others had beards. The one furthest back, in the shadows, caught my attention. Maybe it was his green eyes.

Or maybe it was the way he'd been watching me all night.

"What happened to Miss Krissy?" one of the men near me asked.

Worry whispered down my spine. It wasn't a good sign that he knew her name. That means they'd been trying to get close. "She had to leave. Family emergency."

In other words, back the fuck off.

He smiled slowly, though it was really more of a leer. "Then what's your name, sweetheart?"

I wished I could tell him where to put his sweetheart but direct engagement tended to make things worse. I knew that from experience, so I gritted my teeth. "I'm Rachel. And I'm taken."

The men exchanged looks. "I've heard that before," one said in a low voice. "Funny enough, it doesn't always matter."

Gross. I wanted to brush it off but the twist in my gut was actual fear. I took a deep breath, smelling the stale alcohol and sweat that infused the place. I couldn't do this. "Look, do you want me to you anything else before we close the bar?"

The man in the back leaned forward, his eyes even greener in the faint light. "You're closing?"