The man opened, then closed his mouth, staring at Grady in clear astonishment.
Amelia, meanwhile, came stomping out of the kitchen followed by an employee. She was also looking at Grady, but addressed Arthur in a very loud whisper. “I thought you didn’t want to do anything about it?”
Arthur...well, Arthur was clearly struggling not to jump on Grady and kiss him senseless, which was understandable.That kind of badassery was always hot, especially when you were already half in love. A few things Davin had done during our acquaintance came to mind. Arthur did give Amelia a glance, though, and nodded. “I didn’t want to do anything. But I did sign a contract with them, and I was worried, so I asked Grady about it, and he made arrangements, just in case.”
“Some...you asked some beach bum?” Fearson demanded, like that mattered at all.
Grady, looking impressively professional for a guy who was only wearing flip flops and not proper shoes, scoffed. “It’s Grady Archer, actually. You may recognize the name from Archer, Wen and Asante. My father being the Archer.”
At that, Fearson took an actual step back, which was kind of fun. I didn’t know shit about law offices or who was good or scary or whatever, but apparently, Grady’s dad’s firm wasn’t someone this guy wanted to mess with.
In that moment, though, I became aware of Davin beside me. Well, mostly beside me. He had actually pressed his shoulder in front of me, and he was staring at Fearson like the man might make a mad dash at us at any moment. Davin’s whole body was loose, ready for a fight, but his jaw was clenched and his eyes were like chips of frozen obsidian as he glared at the man.
When he spoke, a vampiric chill crept into the whole damn shop.
“I think it’s time for you to leave, Mr. Fearson. And given that this is a privately owned place of business, you can leave knowing that you aren’t welcome here, or next door in Knight and Daywalker. Please don’t come back.”
Holy shit.
What the hell had set Davin off? Just Twist being angry?
Though, again, fucking hot.
How had I landed a guy that hot?
Maybe Amelia wouldn’t mind if I dragged him into the kitchen to have my way with him there. No, she’d be horrified, since a tidy kitchen was very important to her.
The office was right next door, with a convenient sofa in the back. But no, Davin wouldn’t agree to that. He wanted a bed.
The weirdo.
Fearson took another step back, and then Amelia oh-so-casually brought her hand up, still slightly damp from where she’d been doing the hand-wash dishes in the kitchen. Rather more importantly, in her hand, she still clutched a giant fucking knife. A cleaver, I thought it was called. “Davin is quite right. Get the hell out of our shop and never come back, you...you bastard.”
Arthur gave a little gasp at his sister’s word choice, which was kind of cute.
Me, I was glad all the other patrons had left before now, so they didn’t get dinner and a show, and a picture of Amelia sort of threatening an old dude with a knife. Even though I didn’t think for a second that she was in the wrong, I didn’t think it would play well as a viral picture.
This, however, was enough for Fearson, who turned and nearly jogged out of the shop.
Huh. Spry for an older guy.
Davin followed him, so, well, I followed Davin. Twist was still growling from her spot on the table, so there was something deeply wrong about that guy.
As we reached the door, I heard Fearson mutter, “not again, damn it all.”
We came around the corner in time to see a very smug looking Detective Tobias Cain tucking something into his pocket as he dropped the windshield wiper down on a car.
A really familiar car.
“Him,” I hissed, my eyes narrowing as I watched Fearson rush toward Cain, who just smiled and motioned to the fact that he was parked in the fire lane next to the building, and not a parking space at all.
“Him?” Davin asked, and he seemed at least a little more calm, with Fearson leaving.
Me? I wanted him to come back so I could kick his ass. “That’s the fucker who hit Twist with his car,” I said, glaring at Fearson’s back as he climbed in and screeched his way out of our parking lot.
“That’s probably about his fifteenth ticket this month,” Cain added as he approached us. “Avalon PD doesn’t approve of people who speed and hit kittens with their cars. Even if they’re terrifying monster kittens like yours, Knight.”
“It’s worse than that,” Davin muttered as he stared at where Fearson had left the parking lot. “He’s not people. He’s a fecking dragon.”
