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college kids, they drank pitcher after pitcher of beer and became louder and more annoying with each round. The boys were both dark-haired and handsome, one of average height and well-built, the other tall and thin. Typical frat boys, they both wore Polo rugby shirts and Rolexes and had an air of spoiled sophistication about them. No doubt their parents were well-to-do DC socialites who had sent their sons to a small college in the suburbs in order to avoid the social decay of the inner-city. Nathan disliked them instantly.
    The two girls with them fit the sorority-bitch mold equally well. They both had big, blonde hair—probably bleached—and wore slutty, low-cut blouses to show off their surgically enhanced tits.
    As Nathan watched, one of the blondes stepped up to the pool table for her turn. Nearly missing the cue ball completely, she broke into a hysterical fit of snorting laughter before she staggered back to her stool. Head drooping, she sat down, but because she had misjudged her actual location, she slipped off the edge of the stool and fell to the floor with a loud crash. Her friends howled and pointed, stumbling about and slapping each other on the back, as if it were the funniest thing they had ever seen. The girl who had fallen, however, didn’t share in their amusement. When her date grabbed her by the arm to help pull her up, she jerked away and snapped, “Don’t touch me!”
    Nathan seized the moment. Standing, he strode over to the table. The boy was still trying to help the girl up while she huddled on the floor, pouting and slapping at him.
    “Hey, pal, leave the girl alone,” Nathan said, his arms folded across his chest.
    The boy spun around, the shit-eating grin slipping from his face as he looked up at Nathan.
    “You work here or something?” the boy slurred.
    “No, I just heard the girl tell you to leave her alone.”
    “She’s my fucking girlfriend, jerk-off.”
    Nathan grinned. “Fucking girlfriend, huh? You mind if I fuck the little whore?”
    “What’s your fucking problem?” the boy glared at Nathan.
    “You,” Nathan snapped. He jammed the boy in the chest with both hands and knocked him back several feet.
    Nathan crouched as the boy charged him, swinging wildly. With a quick, fluid motion, Nathan swept his left arm up, blocking the punch. He stepped forward and punched the boy square in the mouth, splitting his gums and knocking out teeth.
    As the boy collapsed, Nathan whirled to face the attack he knew would come from behind. The tall, thin boy was already in motion, swinging the fat end of a cue stick at his head. Nathan ducked, and the stick whistled past, just grazing the top of his head. As he pivoted on his left foot, Nathan kicked out with his right, catching the boy square in the stomach. The boy crumpled to his knees, gasping for breath.
    The gathering crowd parted. A muscle-bound bouncer came thundering across the room like a charging bull.
    Nathan grinned and stepped into the attack, the roar of the crowd ringing in his ears.
    As the bouncer bore down on him, Nathan grabbed him by the arm and, turning, flipped him. The beer-emblazoned pool table light shattered as the bouncer’s feet crashed into it. Shards of glass and plastic rained down upon him as he landed in the middle of the pool table. Before the bouncer could rise, Nathan was over him, hammering him with a barrage of blows to his face and midsection.
    “Fuck you, you worthless son of a bitch!” Nathan howled as the punches rained down.
    When the fire had finally burned itself out, Nathan stopped. Without another word, he turned and made his way to the door. The crowd parted before him.
    Stepping into the cool embrace of the night, he knew that he would sleep like a baby tonight.
     

CHAPTER 8
    Montana
    His breath plumed in front of him in a silvery cloud with each exhalation. His arms and legs pumped with metronomic rhythm, the thin skis carving parallel trails as they shooshed across the snow. He was