Taking advantage of his temporarily blinded state, I kicked out with as much strength as I could muster, the toe of my boot catching him on the side of his face. For a moment I thought he was going to get up and keep coming at me, and then I saw his eyes roll back until only the whites were showing. He slumped sideways, falling in a limp pile amidst spilled coffee and shards of glass. I was grateful for the fact that he was still breathing simply because it meant I wasn’t likely to end up in jail. Self-defense or not, juries still tended to side with mundanes in the case of a supe-on-mundane killing.
Letting the handle of the broken coffee pot slip from my trembling fingers, I sagged as exhaustion swept over me. The last of my adrenaline was quickly fading away, leaving me shaky, sweaty, and in serious need of a nap. Looking up, I was relieved to see Holbrook pinning Ted to the floor with a knee in his back. Pulling a couple of zip ties from his jacket, he secured Ted’s hands behind his back, and then levered himself up to his feet with a pained sigh to similarly bind Max’s hands. Ted ranted and snarled, filling the air with his venomous diatribe, but thankfully his buddy was still out cold.
“The cops are already on their way. I don’t want any trouble!” a balding, middle-aged man I assumed was the manager called out from where he had hunkered down behind a table, his fat sausage fingers clasping the edge in a death grip.
“Great,” I huffed, easing myself back down into the booth, mindful of the new bruises blooming on my ribs and face.
Righting my overturned glass, I slurped the remains of my milkshake and waited for the cavalry to arrive.
“What was that you were saying about restraint?” Holbrook asked, smirking as he slid into the seat opposite me, dabbing at his swollen lip with a napkin.
“Shut up,” I grumbled, slurping my milkshake.
***
By the time the cops arrived, our young server had regained consciousness and was seated at a nearby table with an ice pack pressed against the side of his head while the hostess flitted around him dotingly. Apparently acting like a hero, however unsuccessfully, had made him quite attractive. Judging by his bewildered expression, he found her sudden attentiveness rather odd, too. I, on the other hand, was receiving no such admiration for my heroics.
Regardless of my charming smiles, the rest of the staff were giving me a wide berth leaving me feeling a little stung by their reaction. After all, Ted and Max were the whackos, and Holbrook and I were the ones who’d laid them out. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to carry any weight, and rather than receiving praise all I got was suspicious sidelong glances and whispered suppositions.
Collins and Hill had decided to grace us with their presence, giving Holbrook some nonsense about not realizing anything was amiss until it was already over. I wasn’t sure that I believed them, but I also couldn’t think of a reason why they’d let a fellow agent get his ass kicked by a couple of racist nut jobs. Reigning in his anger in an impressive display of self-control, Holbrook had sent them back outside to stand guard. I might have enjoyed watching them shivering in the wind just a little too much.
The first officer through the door was tall, thin, and looked young enough to still be wet behind the ears; his partner, who followed a few seconds later, was another story. He looked like he’d stepped off of one of the pages of the beefcake calendar my college roommate had bought me as a gag gift one year for my birthday. The standard issue dark blue shirt strained against the muscles of his chest and shoulders, emphasizing the flat plain of his abs. His dark auburn hair was combed back from a lightly bronzed face except for a single lock that curled against his forehead, á la Superman.
The younger officer went over to the server and his adoring fans to take their statements, while Officer Beefcake strode over to Holbrook and me.
“Afternoon folks. I’m Officer Easton. What appears to be the problem?” he asked, eyeing the two men sprawled on the floor, groaning, while I sucked up the dregs of my milkshake, innocently tapping my foot.
Holbrook already had his badge out and at the ready. “Afternoon, Officer. I’m Special Agent Holbrook and this is Ms. Cray. I’m not sure of the names of these two gentlemen, but it seems that we had a little bit of a misunderstanding.”
The officer’s eyebrows rose in recognition at the mention of my name, but didn’t comment on it. Rather, all he said was, “I see.” Officer Easton’s expression turned sour when his bright blue eyes settled on me. It looked like I’d earned myself another fan.
“S’up?” I greeted, nodding.
Holbrook looked at me with the expression of frustrated parents the world over and said, “Behave” in warning. Baring my teeth in a facsimile of a smile, I batted my eyelashes at him and Officer Beefcake and then proceeded to ignore them as Holbrook explained what had happened.
Every once in a while, one of them would ask me a question, but for the most part Holbrook and the gorgeous, but surly, officer ignored me. That was just fine and dandy with me. I let my mind drift as I drummed my fingers on the edge of the table, sinking down into my happy place, where psychotic ex-boyfriends, crazed FBI agents, or anti-werewolf whackos didn’t exist.
Eventually Officer Beefcake cleared us to leave, but not without giving me a sour look that let me know we wouldn’t become pen pals anytime soon.