Rain

by A G Henderson

  Wasn’t my fault guys would always go for the shiny new toy instead of the older, used model.

  If she wasn’t so damn caustic from that point on, I might’ve cared to explain to her how little I wanted their attention in the first place. I was here for one reason and one reason only. The money was fantastic.

  “I know you heard me, bitch,” she said louder, almost loud enough to cover the sound of her chewing on her gum. But not quite. Cow, meet Paige. Paige, cow. “Don’t think you can bring your little skinny ass in here late and ignore me just because Aster likes you and you’ve got a rich mommy and daddy waiting back at the mansion.”

  I don’t have that.

  “Class ran over,” I told her calmly, trying to defuse the situation before it got out of hand. Again. “And I’m still barely ten minutes late. I’m sure you survived without me.”

  “Course I did,” she said, picking at her nails.

  Her fingernails were all different colors and long enough that they couldn’t possibly be meeting the health code for an establishment that sold food. Which ours did. Except this was Paige we were talking about. There was a good chance she was sucking the health inspector off behind the dumpster each time he thought about docking our grade.

  Ugh, didn’t need that mental image today.

  My face twisted up into a frown before I could stop it, and of course she thought it was meant for her.

  Her features contorted, showing every line her overdone makeup couldn’t hide. I could’ve told her caking on product couldn’t hide hard living. That she could probably manage a respectable, older look more appropriate for her weathered skin. But again, that would’ve called for us being something closer to friends. And we were so far away from that point I couldn’t even catch a glimpse of the concept.

  “Lucky for you,” she said nastily, eyes glimmering with hate. “I saved you your favorite table. Oh, and did I mention he’s already been waiting for those ten minutes you were supposed to be here?”

  Please, not him. Not today.

  Clawing her eyes out in my head, I grabbed a tiny excuse for an apron to wrap around my waist and legged it towards the seating area.

  Apprehension had my throat closing but I managed a small smile for James when I passed by the kitchen. He was sweating like a pig, the red bandana that held his dreads back almost burgundy with it. The additional weight on his large frame didn’t help matters but he was nice enough when he wasn’t talking about aliens or government conspiracies.

  Then I was out in the dining room proper, and one glance at the table in the corner of the dimly lit room showed me thin, oily back hair that belonged to Mr. King.

  Yeah, definitely not his real name. The name written on his credit card was Seymour Montgomery. But if you called him by his real name instead, deep-set, beady eyes would narrow on you and he would turn all red and splotchy before making a haughty correction in a reedy voice.

  Was I judging?

  You bet your ass I was, and I didn’t feel bad about it either.

  I was sure every waitress had a Mr. King they were stuck with at some point in their life.

  Rude.

  Demeaning.

  Prone to finding reasons that allowed them to touch your shoulder or your arm or somewhere else they couldn’t get in trouble for despite the ick factor. And there was also the crowning achievement for his type. The main factor that kept them from being smacked in their smug faces one good time.

  Guys like him tipped really, really well.

  I was glad not to be on my parents’ dime anymore. But college tuition wasn’t going to pay itself. They had no choice but to feed me while I lived with them - lest the ‘help’ (their words, not mine) around the estate start asking too many questions. But they were glad to leave me in the lurch otherwise.

  They probably figured I would come crawling back at some point to grovel for their forgiveness. To take my place as the heir to the family legacy and become the stiff-necked aristocrat with a planned marriage and a fake laugh.

  They were dead wrong.

  Because I would rather die than go back under their thumb willingly.

  “Sorry I’m late, Mr. King,” I said, coming to stand at the table beside him. “Things were a bit hectic for me today.”

  And the guy I can’t stop thinking about hasn’t made another move yet.

  But those were thoughts for another time. I refused to allow Rain and the man in front of me to even exist in the same headspace together. The wrench wielding biker who had kissed me like he had known my lips forever would never be like this loaded creep.

  Mr. King licked his lips, eyes tracing over me from the floor up. Tension gripped my spine, keeping my back ramrod straight instead of the usual slouch I adopted around regulars I liked. Not that he cared.

  His gaze was an oil slick as it crawled up my skin, making me want to take a scalding hot shower to rid myself of it. He never even made it to my face, to my eyes. He got to the center of my chest and stayed there. And he was talking to my breasts when his mouth opened.

  “Tardiness is a sin, sweet thing.” I cringed, barely stopping my face from giving away my displeasure. “I suppose I can forgive you this time, as long as it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Of course,” I forced out from between my teeth. “Again, I apologize. Would you like your usual to start with?”

  Deep-set eyes never lifted to actually look at me, only what my body could offer. God, I was seriously regretting scarfing down that yogurt on the way over here. I usually knew better than to eat before I had to wait on him because he was seriously that vile that it would upset my stomach if I had.

  Unfortunately, my mind had been occupied by eyes like thunderclouds and a body made from steel.

  “Do be a dear and fetch my favorites. Make it quick.”

  I turned away and somehow managed not to sprint from the table. My high heeled boots did go at a pace faster than was likely appropriate, evidenced by the other waitress I nearly ran into when she appeared from the pass. But who could freaking blame me?

  Guy was a serious creep.

  At some point in the future, he was going to get arrested for taking it too far somewhere his money wouldn’t do him any good. And when that inevitable day came, I was willing to bet there would be something equally as creepy inside his house. Handmade dolls. Hair collections. Black and white photographs of screaming women.

  You know, general serial killer stuff.

  “Have you seen Aster?” I asked James, almost shouting to be heard over the flurry of activity.

  He passed a monstrosity of a sandwich out the window towards me. It was covered in so much mayonnaise that globs slid from the sides. I turned green waiting on James to catch the sweat about to fall into his eye with his shirtsleeve and answer me.

  “Office,” he said on a grunt, tossing his dreads back. “Meeting.”

  I sighed and grabbed the plate in front of me, desperate to drop it off at the creep’s table so I could ask my boss for the rest of the night off. After another disappointing day, I seriously did not have the energy for this. She could give my hours to Paige for all I cared. Anything that resulted in me being able to get away from this place for a while.

  Mr. King tracked my approach, eyes so lifeless they reminded me of a shark’s. I almost tripped and mentally scolded myself. God, I was out of it. There was something...incomplete, and I didn’t know what it was. I only knew I wasn’t going to find it on the end of his thin-lipped grin.

  I pasted on a false smile, sliding the plate towards him. “Anything else I can grab for you?” I asked, already stepping away.

  Except before I could, his hand darted out, catching my wrist and drawing me to a stop. My skin crawled, and I jerked against his hold by reflex, but he didn’t let go.

  “Why don’t you keep me company while I eat?” He leered at my chest, and there was something wrong about his tight smile. “It's the least you could do, doll face. After all, I always treat you right. That sa
me treatment can get even better if you make it worth my while.”

  Ice froze my stunned expression in place before dancing down my spine and surrounding my stomach. Shark eyes flicked up to mine finally. He was still smiling. When I yanked my arm away again, he let go so abruptly I nearly stumbled back.

  Had he really just said that?

  I wanted to think it was my imagination but the dryness to my throat and the revulsion creeping across my skin with slimy fingers said otherwise.

  His eyes narrowed. “Don't give me that look, you little bitch,” he hissed, words reaching between us like a slap in the face that made my eyes sting. “You think Paige got to where she is by chance? What about the other girls? No. It was thanks to me. You-”

  I'm not listening to this.

  I turned on my heel and walked away, trying and failing to care about the curious look the hostess was giving me while she sat two more guys in my section. Someone else could have those tables. That tip. They could have the whole restaurant for all I cared.

  I rapped twice on Aster’s office door with my knuckles and let myself in, only to find her pacing her small desk while a tall guy with rich brown skin, a bald head, and a neat, dark beard leaned on the other side of it.

  His head snapped towards me, and for a tense moment he seemed poised to burst into action before his look turned curious, searching.

  My hands trembled and I hated it. Hated how I had to wonder if everyone here thought I was a whore in the making. How had I missed the others sleeping with their customers? My eyes stung and I blinked to try to clear the mist forming in front of them.

  “You good?” the man asked, while Aster only chewed on a nude tipped nail nervously.

  “Yeah,” I tried, but my voice came out on a croak. The man didn't move, but his focus on me dialed in.

  Who was he? I had never seen him before but there was something about him worth watching out for. He seemed oblivious or generally uninterested in my outfit and exposed skin, but that didn't make him a teddy bear in his white tea and jeans either.

  “Yeah,” I said, stronger this time. “Aster, I've had an emergency come up. Can someone cover the rest of my shift?”

  My boss finally looked at me, almost as if she was just realizing I was there. Whatever they'd been talking about back here, my words put her back on an even footing. Familiar territory. She fluffed her blown-out blonde hair and smoothed her too-tight dress.

  “I don't have anyone else available tonight,” she said. “Don’t do this to me. You know how busy it's about to get.”

  I took a deep breath, wondering when the skin around my wrist would stop burning. There were already welts forming when I lifted it to my face for a closer look. Fantastic. I was going to have to look at that, remembering who had caused it.

  “What happened there?” a soft voice asked, raising the hairs on my neck. It took me a moment to realize it had come from tall, dark, and kind of scary.

  “Nothing,” I told him quickly, crossing my arms over my body.

  He shot Aster a look I was grateful not to be on the receiving end of. Because whatever he was silently telling her was enough to make my boss’ lips tip up into a tiny, false grin. Not a smile—Aster never smiled unless she was getting paid—but the closest thing to it I had seen directed at me.

  “Take the night off,” she said so sweetly her teeth should've fallen out. “I'm sure I can make it work, even if I have to take a couple tables myself.”

  I swallowed my surprise, barely. Aster working the floor like a common waitress was hard to picture. There was something else going on here, and I had a good feeling the serene man who stood there like an island unto himself was part of it.

  But I was too drained to care about whatever this was. I wanted my bed. My shower. My space. And I wanted them in whatever order I could get them.

  I offered quick goodbyes and headed back to the dressing room, beyond ready to get out of these clothes. Although what I had left in my locker wasn't much better. Would it have killed me to have included a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that would swallow me whole? Instead, I was stuck trading my short shorts and barely-there shirt for the sundress I had worn earlier.

  Get it over with. Change and get the hell out.

  Sighing, I stripped out of my work uniform and started pulling the tank over my head when the dressing room door opened behind me.

  “Whatever you want, Paige, save it for another day.”

  There was no answer, and there should’ve been.

  She was never lacking for bitchy comments.

  Never ever.

  Fear gripped my heart and squeezed, even before he spoke.

  “I didn’t mean to come on so strong, baby.” I turned quickly, pulse thundering in my ears. Mr. King was standing there, hair mussed, fingers twitching. “You caught me at a bad time is all.”

  “You need to leave,” I said, grateful my voice sounded stronger than I felt. Because I felt naked. Exposed. Vulnerable. The only thing between us was a long bench and he was blocking the exit.

  He took a step closer to me and I retreated instinctively, the cold metal of the lockers making me shiver. My skirt was still in my hand, and I held it over my bottom half as well as I could.

  “Still with that look,” he muttered, lips wriggling around on his face. “I’m not some lecherous pervert, my dear. I’m a businessman. I simply want to make sure I receive a return on my investment.”

  “I don’t owe you a damn thing.” Fire burned in my gut, incinerating the roiling acid. I was indebted to no one. I’d made sure of it.

  “Don’t you? Hasn’t my generosity paid for the clothes you wear? The food you eat?”

  I didn’t answer him. No matter what I said, he had already twisted this narrative around in his mind so tightly I had no hope of unwinding it. I tried to look around as discreetly as I could, searching for something I could use as a weapon. Then he stepped closer again, moving within lunging distance and arresting my focus.

  “Why are you making this so difficult?” he asked, almost pleading. Shark eyes looked at me with disappointment. “No one said you would be this way. I’m not asking for much, doll. One kiss to show good faith and I’ll keep spoiling you. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds like you’re fucking sick in the head,” I spat, trembling with adrenaline.

  His face twisted and he came for me. “You little-“

  I slapped him across the face and the sting of it traveled down my arm. His head turned with the blow and I didn’t wait for him to recover. I darted out and around him, heading for the door.

  I only made it over the bench before he caught my wrist again, grip bruising. A scream ripped its way from my throat, carried on bladed edges, and then a thousand things happened at once.

  The door flew open with a whooshing gust, slamming into the wall. A dark blur flew past me with startling speed, crashing into Mr. King with enough force to send me stumbling before the bastard’s grip released.

  I fell to the floor with a grunt and watched in a daze as lean arms covered in bright ink buried the older man beneath a flurry of blows. Something went snap, and then blood started to flow down his face, splattering the lockers with red drops each time another mountainous fist connected.

  Sitting up on my knees was my only option with the way my legs shook. When I moved, thundercloud eyes snapped my way briefly before Rain continued his assault twice as viciously. Wearing a snarl that painted his face into savage, beautiful lines.

  A knee landed, eliciting a low, pained whimper. Mr. King tried to slide down the locker and huddle into himself, but Rain wasn’t having it. He lifted the man by his neck and started squeezing, tendons in his hands standing out.

  He’s going to kill him, a small voice whispered as the other man started turning an unhealthy shade of red, weak struggles not affecting the grip on his neck in the least.

  I waited to be afraid of the viciousness on display, but knowing it was on my behalf had the opposite effect.r />
  Strength filled my legs and I stood, placing a hand on Rain’s back. He paused instantly, body turning to stone. The door behind us opened as more people filled the room but they weren’t my concern right then.

  I stepped to the side so Rain could see me, feeling the burn of his body through the black shirt he wore. Feeling that same burn settle low in my stomach and spread. He was breathing hard when he looked at me, chest heaving.

  “It’s okay,” I said softly, stepping closer still. “I’m okay.”

  I reached for his bloody hands, pulling lightly at fingers locked in a vise grip. When he let go, the other man immediately slid down to the floor on a groan. I didn’t pay attention to him either.

  Rain looked my body up and down while I grabbed one of his hands with both of mine. There was a question in his eyes. I knew why. I was standing here in a bra and panties, looking disheveled as all hell.

  “Nothing happened,” I promised him. He pulled me closer, pressing his forehead to mine. His breath fluttering my hair felt like home.

  His voice emerged like it had the first time. Sudden and unstoppable. A deluge that washed away everything but the feeling of his skin against mine and the safety I felt tucked against him.

  “Scared the hell out of me, Pixie. I thought-“ His jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth would crack. “I thought he had…”

  “He didn’t.”

  I rose up on my toes, heedless of the fact we had an audience. Of the fact that his hands were stained with another man’s blood. Of the fact we were on the verge of something there would be no coming back from.

  My lips pressed against his, a gentle touch that turned not so gentle a moment later. He growled, slanting his mouth against mine before we both pulled back. When I caught my breath, I looked up into eyes dark with promise.

  A throat cleared and I finally acknowledged the other two people in the room. Aster was holding the door closed, ignoring the questioning voices on the other side. The man from her office stood with his hands at his sides, face carefully blank.

  “Take off, brother,” he said to Rain. “I’ll handle this.”

  Rain shot him a look without letting me go. “Does Creed have something to do with why you’re here, Tone?”