Chapter Eighteen
It appeared to be a bachelor party on one side, Jerry thought. The men were in their early twenties, already drunk and one getting a lap dance from one of the strippers. The rest of the bar was filled with rig workers, and the place was hopping. Waitresses dressed in as little as possible weaved their way through the pawing hands. He didn’t miss the men who’d take liberties, touching a waitress’s ass and then laughing and joking.
He took in the bartender, the dark-haired guy he’d seen before, and then one of his men, big, solid, and built like a tank, who was now moving through the bar and stepping over to the man with the free hand to issue a stern warning: No touching. He watched the scene. Already something had changed in the bar, going from the out-of-control degrada
