“I’m Cain Edward Shaw, yes. Senator Shaw’sson. And I am telling you right now, you need to let my friend go.”
On the floor, Damon immediately fell silent and stopped struggling, though he didn’t look up. The guard hesitated, so Cain continued.
“Is violence generally your way of handling things, Rodney?"
"Violence?" Rodney looked at the other security guard helplessly.
"We haven't been violent, Mr. Shaw," Parker interjected.
"Really? What do you call it when you’ve taken an injured man, who I can state for the record was causing no physical harm to anyone until you jumped him, and forced him down on his alreadyinjured leg? Do you understand how liability works in Massachusetts?"
The guards exchanged looks.
"We have orders to detain anyone who..." Parker began, but Cain interrupted, dialing his attitude up to stratospheric levels.
“Parker. That’s your name, isn’t it?”
“Er. Yes?”
Cain sighed gustily, just as his father would. "Are you asking me or telling me, Parker?" he demanded. The man was perhaps a foot taller than Cain, and twice as broad, but his eyebrows twitched with discomfort at Cain's tone.
"Uh. Telling you?"
"Right. Okay, here’s what we’re going to do, Parker. You’re going to find us a room, a private room where my friend and I can chat until he feels a little better, and then I’m going to make sure he gets home."
Parker nodded, still throwing a cautious glance at Damon, who hadn't moved nor even raised his head.
"Now, Parker," Cain said, making a shooing motion with his hands and shaking his head in disbelief.
"Yes, sir," Parker finally acquiesced.
Cain took a quick glance around and saw that the foyer was blessedly free of any witnesses. But he knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
"And you, Rodney. Help me get him up," Cain told the other guard, who removed his knee from Damon’s back and stood.
The minute he moved his knee, Damon pushed himself to his feet. His hair had gotten mussed in the struggle, and he shoved the long iron strands back from the rough perfection of his face.
"I'm capable of standing on my own."
Those eyes.God.Green-gold like a cat’s and every bit as wild, they seared into him, focused and clearly sober. Damon waspissed, but despite the slurred words and the acrid smell of alcohol that radiated from him, not nearly as drunk as he seemed.
Cain swallowed and nodded, robbed of words. Being a condescending asshole to the huge-as-fuck armed guards was one thing. Standing firm in the face of this gorgeous, compelling man was definitely another. He was excited and terrified in equal measure, like he wanted to run away and push his luck at the same time.
"Manager found you a room with a sofa. This way," Parker informed him proudly, like a child who'd just completed a task and wanted a cookie. “It’s the place where brides get ready when they have weddings here.”
Cain nodded.
When Parker turned to show them the way, Cain took a deep breath and slung his arm around Damon’s waist, encouraging the man to lean on him under Rodney’s watchful eyes as they made their way across the lobby to a back hallway.
“Capable of walking on my own too, kid,” Damon muttered. His voice was pitched low enough that only Cain could hear, and the harsh, breathy rumble once again made Cain shiver with something that wasn’t quite excitement and wasn’t quite fear, but a strange amalgam of the two.
Cain was annoyed at himself for letting something so trivial affect him so badly. He was also annoyed at Damon, who wasn’t going along with Cain’s rescue.
“Okay, first off,” Cain retorted in an angry whisper that would have done his mother proud. “Given the fact that you were thirty seconds away from being arrested, how about you wait until later to tell me how capable you are?” He could feel Damon’s muscles stiffen beneath his arm, and he gripped Damon’s waist more tightly, forcing him to lean on Cain even though it clearly wasn’t necessary - the man was carrying his own weight, despite his evident limp. Still, Cain was committed to the story he’d spun for the guards. “Second, you went to a lot of trouble to get drunk - or make yourself seem that way, at least - so for God’s sake just go with it.”
“Jesus, kid.” Three syllables laced with disgust and frustration.
At the end of the hall, Parker and a neatly-dressed woman with a name tag stood by an open door.
“And last but not least, my name isCain,notkid,because I’m notakid, and I’m definitely notyourkid. Got it?”
Cain smiled at Parker as he shuffled Damon through the doorway and into the room. Against the back wall stood a purple tufted sofa, and he hobbled toward it, then dropped Damon down with an utter lack of care.
“Thanks, Parker,” he said, walking back toward the door and ushering the guard and the woman -Amy Patel, Guest Service Specialist, according to her nametag - back into the hall. “I’ll make sure the senator hears about how helpful you’ve both been in taking care of this sensitive situation.”
Amy beamed, and Parker nodded solemnly. “You need any more help with him, you let me know,” he said. And then he looked at Damon again, a bit awkwardly. “Uh, sorry about before. You, uh… feel better, bro.”
Cain cleared his throat and shut the door in the man’s face. One problem down, one giant problem to go.
