“Why do I think you’re the real grenade here, Petty?”
“Shut up, Devine. Go grow a pair.”
His friend laughed harder. “You’re still wearing the amethyst, aren’t you?”
He refused to answer. Bastard.
A voice crackled over the speaker. “Car Forty-one. Fight developing at Mugs Tavern, 120 Main Street.”
Devine grabbed the radio. “En route.”
“Over.”
Stone looked at his partner, then grinned. “Bar fight, dude!”
Devine motioned to him. “Drive faster or we’re gonna miss it. Hit the sirens.”
Stone hit the lights and they sped to their destination within minutes. Trying to hide their eagerness, they put on their game faces to look like aggravated cops and walked in. Stone looked around, scanning the surroundings for broken glass, shoving, yelling, and overall male good times. He saw nothing. Just the usual battered booths, wooden Irish bar, dartboard, and various tables scattered around. The place was packed, but nothing rowdy caught his gaze.
He went to the bar and held up his hand. The bartender came over. “Got a call on a fight going on?”
The bartender nodded and pointed across the room. “Yeah, those two drunkards. Fighting over some girl. I don’t get paid to break up fights, man. We have no bouncers here.”
Devine nodded. “We’ll take care of it.”
They strolled over. A heated argument was taking place with two men who’d seen better days. One had a beer belly, white skin, and paunchy cheeks. The other was whip skinny, had a bony face, wore schoolteacher glasses, and reminded Stone of Ichabod Crane. Their voices rose higher and higher.
“I looked at her first! She was ready to leave with me until you slobbered all over her,” Pudgy yelled.
Ichabod leaned in. Saliva sprayed. “I already bought her a drink when you came sniffing around. My night was set until you interrupted and scared her away with your face!”
“Fuck you!” Pudgy roared. “She’d never leave with a skinny-ass punk, four eyes!”
“Four eyes? What are you, twelve? Go drink some more beer, why don’t you, fatso?”
Stone and Devine shared a humorous glance. Damn, what a pansy-ass fight. At this point, no one would even make a move. Holding back a sigh, Stone moved toward them. “Gentlemen. I’ll need you to lower your voices or leave the establishment.”
“Oh, good, the police are here,” Pudgy sneered. “Arrest this asshole for being ugly.”
Ichabod narrowed his gaze. “Arrest this asshole for being stupid!”
Devine clamped his lips together, probably to stifle a laugh. “Follow me; let’s get some air before things get nasty.”
Stone watched his partner guide the squabbling men out the front door. Nah. Neither one was gonna take a punch. He turned on his heel to follow them out when screams rang through the bar, making everyone crane their necks to look at the commotion. The back room, usually used for parties, was rocking. Music blared, and he caught a swarm of short skirts, swishing hair, and loud revelry. All women.
Bachelorette party.
A grin tugged at his lips. That was probably rowdier than anything he’d seen in the past month. Should he make the excuse to check it out by asking them to lower their voices? Not that he wanted to be a dick, but it would be fun to see what they were up to.
He reached the door, when a petite brunette stumbled out on teetering heels. Her blue eyes sparkled, and she held a martini of some sort that was a bright green color. “I’ll send him in when he comes!” she screeched. Another round of giggles floated past. “Get the music ready! Oh!”
She ran into his chest. Stone caught her. “Officer Stone! It’s you!”
He frowned, then realized he held Genevieve MacKenzie in his arms. He’d met her over the summer during the domestic abuse and vandalism cases. He had liked her immediately and was glad she got rid of her asshole ex who was an abuser. Stone smiled. “Dr. MacKenzie. A pleasure.” He raised a brow. “Are you involved with these shenanigans?”
She laughed and found her balance. “My friend Kate’s bachelorette party. Girls’ night out, you know.”
“Nice. No drunk driving, right?”
She shook her head. “Limo service.” She paused, a calculating light gleaming in her eyes. “Arilyn’s inside, you know.”
“Arilyn?” His brain stuttered. Stone glanced at the door, then tried to act cool. “That’s nice.”
Gen smiled real slow. “She mentioned you tonight. Said she had something to tell you? Seemed important. Does this sound familiar?”
His blood turned to lava and his dick hardened. Was she kidding? Was Arilyn ready to ask him to take her to bed—on his terms? Had she told Genevieve the entire story? Knowing how girls gossiped, he tried to remain calm. “I’m surprised she told you such intimate details.”