“Sit. We’ve got this.”
Cain’s face was folded into a mask of rage. Yeah, they had this alright. I raised an eyebrow in his direction. He flashed me a quick smile before he was sliding out of the booth and strolling over to the group like he didn’t have a care in the world. Solomon swaggered behind him, stopping to whisper something to Becky, who was watching the situation with wary delight.
Cain cleared his throat. “You should tip your waitress,” he said quietly.
The guy who’d pushed his coffee on the ground swung around to look at Cain. For a split second, he looked ready to shit himself, but it was quickly covered with bravado when his eyes switched back to his buddies.
“You tip the fat bitch. That coffee was the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”
His buddies all laughed, and Solomon laughed along with them. “Well I’m sure that’s not true. Bet you had that fuckheads diseased dick in your mouth last night. That’s infinitely worse than Gloria’s coffee.”
Their eyes swung between Cain and Solomon, finally taking in their tattoos and cuts. The coffee douche started to look a little panicked. But apparently he was a douche with commitment because he doubled down on his dumbassery. “Why don’t you go fuck yourself and Gloria’s huge ass while you’re there.”
I didn’t even see Cain’s fist move. But in the blink of an eye, the guy was on the floor, blood pouring from his nose. He was yelling and his voice sounded wobbly as if he was going to cry. “What the fuck, man? What is wrong with you?”
Solomon grinned. “Ah shit. Looks like you got a real bad nosebleed there, kid. You should go get cleaned up. But first, tip your waitress.” He lifted his shirt in a real subtle movement, flashing the gun that I knew sat there. I hoped no one else saw it though.
Coffee-Douche's friends all blanched a pasty color, throwing down fifties and moving out of the diner like their asses were one fire, one of them dragging a still ranting douche with them.
Gloria smiled between Cain and Sol. “Thanks guys. You didn’t need to step in though. I had it under control.” She didn’t, but I could respect her need to think she was a badass in that moment. She gave them a shy smile. “I know how the cops hound you down here. I don’t want you to get into trouble over me.”
Cain waved a hand and smiled. “Don’t worry about shit like that, Gloria. This diner is in Damnation territory, and I’ll be fucked if I am going to let entitled little shits mouth off. You are a waitress, not a punching bag for trust fund kids.”
Sol wrapped an arm around Gloria’s shoulders and whispered something in her ear that made the middle-aged woman blush right down to her ankles. I’d only known Solomon a day or so, but I instinctively knew that he was a ladies man, so whatever he was whispering was probably dirty as hell and going in Gloria’s spank bank for the rest of eternity.
They strode back towards me, their shoulders tense despite the casual nature of their violence. I shook my head. I’d fallen into the trap of stereotyping them all; Cain was the kind one, Solomon the lady killer, Judas the alpha enigma, and Goliath was the crazy one. But in all honesty, they were all crazy killers. They weren’t the Spice Girls. They didn’t conform to a trope. They were all dangerous. They were all so fucking alpha my brain didn’t know if I should run away or throw my panties on the floor like a fucked up orgy gauntlet. They were all lady killers, though in Goliath’s case, I think he literally killed ladies.
Cain sat down, his gaze brushing over me warily, as if trying to judge my response to the random act of violence. Flight or fight. I could almost taste his indecision on whether he’d stop me or not.
But I’d lived a long time. Sure, every couple of centuries, my memories got fuzzy, like it had too much stored in my brain and needed to archive some shit. But violence was the one constant through the ages. Unless you’d seen a warrior king cut off his enemies head and drink his arterial blood like a fine shiraz, you hadn’t really experienced real violence. That wasn’t to say these guys weren’t as dangerous as that king of old, they definitely were, but I wasn’t one to be scared off by a little deserved retribution.
I reached over and grabbed Cain’s notebook, letting my fingers brush over his barely reddened knuckles. They were rough and hardened by years of throwing hits. I ignored his quick inhale and the weight of Solomon’s eyes.
“I think I need one of those portable cribs. Just for when the baby is little. Then when we move on, I can take it with me. I don’t need more stuff than I can carry. This isn’t my life. I’m not nesting or whatever pregnant women are supposed to do. I can’t, while he's out there.” I swallowed hard. Nope. Not thinking about Uriel.
I watched Cain’s fingers curl gently around the edge of the table, and heard the ancient formica groan ominously.
“Gotcha, Pretty Girl. Travel gear only. Cain, write this shit down, then we are hitting up one of those big box baby stores.” He pushed the spiral notebook back to Cain, as if he was distracting the tattooed monster. “If you need to drag shit around, you need it to be quality. And you need one of those holsters where you carry your kid around like a rich girl with a toy dog.”
Cain looked at him like he was insane, but wrote down “Baby Holster”.
A small, hysterical laugh filled up my chest, before it bubbled over my lips like laundry liquid in a fountain. I was still giggling at the idea of carrying my baby on my hip like a six-shooter in a western film, when Becky returned with the guy's food.
She placed it down reverently in front of them, making sure to put her boobs right in Cain’s face. “What you guys did for Gloria was amazing, just so you know. Not enough real men left in the world.” If she wasn’t basically eating the two men in front of her with her eyes, I would have lifted my hand for a high five.
Solomon stuffed a piece of toast in his mouth. “Didn’t do it for Gloria. They crossed into the wrong territory to start shit.” He leaned back in his chair as he chewed his toast, exposing a little slice of golden skin just above the low waist of his jeans. I wanted to worship at the alter of those abs.
Cain cleared his throat, and I realized both me and Becky had been staring. Becky’s cheeks went red, but she cleared her throat and continued. “Locals respect the rules. If only we didn’t have to let outsiders in.” She eyed me none too casually that time. Yeah, message received bitch. No need to beat me over the head with it.
Unlike Sol, who was hoovering his food like a starving man, Cain looked pointedly at the empty table in front of me.
Becky pressed her hand to her chest. “So sorry, in all the excitement, the kitchen forgot your food. It will probably be another twenty minutes or so.” Wow. Give the girl an Oscar. If she faked an orgasm the way she faked sincerity, she’d be out of here in no time.
Solomon waved her away. “Don’t worry about it, Becky. She can share ours. We’ll get those pancakes to go.”
He then stabbed a piece of bacon and held it out to me. My eyes shot to Cain, who was putting bits of his breakfast onto his side plate, no eggs though. How he knew eggs made me gag was a mystery. Becky was looking at them like they’d sprouted another head each, and I swear to God, I was going to cry again.