The moment I bend over, I feel a sharp slap on my ass. I wheel around, catching Blue Shirt on top of the bar. I’m about to shout for Tony, our bouncer, but Cole is faster. I barely have time to open my mouth before he’s appeared behind Blue Shirt like a pale grim reaper. He doesn’t grab the guy’s shoulder—doesn’t even offer a warning. Faster than I can blink, he snatches up the closest beer bottle and smashes it across the back of Blue Shirt’s skull.
