A Bloody London Sunset (Sunset Vampire Series, Book 2) (19 page)

The men grumbled and returned to talking shop.

Peggy’s demeanor became somewhat more professional as she regarded Caleb. “You boys ready to order something from the menu?”

“Any recommendations?” Caleb asked with a hopeful expression.

She regarded him with a sober expression and suggested, “Drink here, eat somewhere else.”

“Maybe just a burger, well-done, and some fries, please,” he requested politely as the waitress scribbled on a small notepad.

Peggy looked at Gil. “And for you?”

Gil’s face turned oddly introspective. “So, about the nacho platter. Is it pretty good?”

Her expression turned a mix of sour and amused, and she retorted, “You been to the state fair before and ordered nachos?”

Gil shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well, these ain’t as good as those,” she replied.

Gil frowned with distaste and offered, “Uh, yeah. Well, I’ll just have the same as him, well-done on the burger, too.”

The waitress smirked as she wrote on her pad, and then silently walked back towards the kitchen. Gil and Caleb simultaneously exchanged curious glances, and one of the burly fellows at the nearest table muttered to his buddies, “Five dollars says they can’t even finish eatin’ those greasy burgers.”

Caleb ignored the comment, took a swig of his beer and asked, “So Gil, what do you think of Paige so far?”

The rocker considered his question. “Well, she’s a free spirit, you know. But I like her, and she’s a hell of a lot of fun out clubbing. And damn, she rocks that body, man. But you probably already know that, eh?”

Caleb frowned. “Not really, Gil. I haven’t been out clubbing with Paige. At least, not yet. She keeps threatening to get me out on the town, though. And as for rocking her body, we’re almost like family, you know. She means a lot to me, but we’re not like that.”

Gil glowered and took a long pull from his beer.

“What?” Caleb pressed.

“Well, it’s just the way you two act,” Gil began carefully. “Listen, I ain’t an idiot, Caleb. You’re not her family, after all, no matter what she says about being like a sister and all that. And then there’s the way she pressed against you last night. Damn, Caleb. My buddy Skeet has a sister, and they don’t look at each other the way Paige does you. Although Skeet and his sister aren’t all that close, I guess. Hell, I don’t know. I just know nobody ever looked at me like that before, dude.”

Caleb felt a pang of concern run through him.

“Gil, you’ve got it all wrong,” he countered. “Paige, she’s really more like a sister to me. I mean, I really care about her. But I’m not a threat to you and her. It’s cool.”

Gil took another swig of his beer and cast a glance to the men at the nearby table who were distracted with fresh beers from Peggy. He regarded Caleb with a more relaxed expression and grinned, “Hey, no problem, Caleb. I get it.”

But he sensed something from Gil and lowered his voice as he leaned across the table. “No Gil, you don’t. You’ve got it all wrong about Paige. She’s like my guardian angel, a protector. I mean, she’s saved my life on at least two separate occasions since last fall. I owe her my life, for God’s sake. But I want her to be happy, and if you do that for her, then I’m all for it. Got it?”

Gil responded with a quick nod and half-grin before being distracted by something across the room.

Caleb observed him looking pointedly at the old jukebox along the back wall and watched him get up from his seat. He immediately suggested, “Hey Gil, I’d just leave well enough alone there if I were you. We’ll finish eating and head out of here, okay?”

But Gil seemed determined and insisted, “Man, this lame bumpkin scene is killing me. We’re gonna change the sound around here, at least while we’re stuffin’ our faces.”

Caleb just shook his head and watched as the young man strode confidently over to the old jukebox and sorted through the available titles. He fed dollar bills into the jukebox, and there was a pause as titles loaded. In a matter of moments, hard rock began to play, starting no less than with Green Day’s “When I Come Around.”

“Just great,” Caleb remarked under his breath before taking a swallow of beer and casting a wary glance at the rowdy fellows seated nearby. The men were talking, but paused as the music blared. Their narrowed eyes followed Gil all the way back to the table, glaring at him as he sat down.

“Friggin’ punk rock shit,” one of the men growled. “I told Butch he shoulda kicked that damned old jukebox to the curb years ago if he wasn’t going to pack it with more country.”

Caleb took a swig of beer and silently considered how quickly they could make it to the exits if things turned ugly. Fortunately, the men seemed to be content to just curse and complain, rather than take any action.

Moments later, Peggy arrived with their burgers and fresh beers, and she seemed more upbeat for some reason.

“Here’s the burgers, guys,” she announced. “And good job on the music. Nice to hear something else besides George Strait or Brooks and Dunn for a change.”

She departed quickly, leaving Caleb and Gil exchanging surprised expressions. Both shrugged and returned to their burgers and beers. Everything seemed more sedate for a short time until they were almost done eating. That’s when the three guys at the nearby table divvied up money to pay and rose to leave. Each of them made a point to brush up against either Caleb’s or Gil’s chairs while walking past.

“Friggin’ yuppies,” grumbled the man with the dark bushy mustache and crew cut as he banged into the back of Caleb’s chair while passing.

Caleb discreetly rolled his eyes at the comment. It wasn’t as if either he or Gil looked anything like young urban professionals, particularly dressed as they were.
Ignorance is definitely bliss with some people
.

“Redneck bastard,” Gil muttered under his breath as the guy walked away.

The man turned abruptly to grimace at Gil, demanding, “What was that, punker?”

Gil swallowed his bite of burger and started to say something, but Caleb cut him off with, “He said ’better eat faster,’ that’s all.”

The burly fellow sneered, shook his head, and cursed under his breath while continuing to the door to leave. Caleb relaxed somewhat once the last man walked out and looked over at Gil with barely contained contempt.

“Are you anxious for a bar fight or something?” he chastised. “Those guys are just blowhards. Geez, let’s just eat and get the hell out of here.”

Within minutes, Caleb finished his beer, and both of them declined another refill when the waitress stopped by with their bill.

“I hope you weren’t bothered by those guys who were in here,” Peggy suggested. “They’re just a bunch of complainers who usually shoot off their mouths. Butch, the owner, threatens to ban them from this place, and they usually simmer down.”

Caleb thanked her and took care of the check with cash, making sure to leave a generous tip for Peggy. Barely ten minutes after their biggest fans had left, Caleb and Gil were exiting the bar out to what was a sunny, warmer-than-expected February afternoon.

“Gil, next time, I get to pick the bar,” Caleb remarked absently.

Everything seemed fine, until they spotted the three troublemakers from the bar standing around Katrina’s car at the side of the building where they had parked. Caleb shook his head in near disbelief as he stared at the throng of men, only to realize the guy with the mustache and crew cut was relieving himself onto the Audi’s right rear tire.

A surge of anger ran through him, but he managed to keep himself in check as he walked slowly towards their car. The man zipped up his jeans, and all three men started laughing as they cast incendiary glances towards Caleb and Gil.

“Hey, assholes!” Gil snapped as he walked a little faster than Caleb towards the car.

“Just get in the car, Gil,” Caleb warned, deactivating the alarm with the key remote.

But Gil was already approaching the three men with his fists balled up tightly.

Caleb swore under his breath as the mustached man barreled forward while Gil shifted next to the car. Gil barely had time to lift his fist before the man punched him in the gut, causing him to double over.

“Aw, crap,” Caleb growled as the other two men moved deliberately towards him.

Everything happened so fast after that. Caleb barely realized that one of the two men had swung towards him, but he managed to pivot his body, only catching a glancing blow to the left side of his head.

Something shot through him, like a cross between a flashback and an electrical surge. The memory of Devon Archibald’s attack on him at the wildlife preserve replayed in his head like a lightning flash. Only this time, instead of fear, he felt intense anger and resentment. He was tired of being attacked, and since these guys weren’t vampires, an important notion occurred to him: they were only human, which made them beatable.

Reactions began to flow in his body without the need to think as some of the combat training Katrina had drilled into his head activated. Of the two men approaching him, the second fellow, a red-haired man, aimed his fist at Caleb’s stomach while his buddy recovered his balance from the initial missed punch. But Caleb grabbed the red-haired man’s forearm with his left hand while slamming his clenched fist into the front of the man’s throat. The assailant immediately gasped with a choking sound, and fell forward onto his knees onto the asphalt parking lot.

The first man, a bearded guy with curly hair, recovered and punched Caleb in the lower back around his kidneys. Pain shot through him, but it was bearable and nothing like the pain from Devon’s assault, so he had enough stamina to whirl and catch the man in the side of the nose with the back of his right elbow. Caleb heard a crunching sound as his elbow slammed into the bearded man’s face, followed by a shriek as the guy reached up to cup his face with both hands.

One glance at Gil revealed he was quickly losing in the brief melee of fists flailing between the two men. The mustached man made a quick punch to Gil’s jaw, sending him banging into the side of a beat-up old pickup parked next their car. The young rocker slumped groggily down to the asphalt after that.

Caleb rushed forwards to side-kick at the mustached man’s left knee, sending the yelling thug to the ground. Caleb landed punches against the left side of the guy’s head and jaw, requiring only three sharp blows before the guy fell unconscious onto the blacktop with a heavy thump.

Caleb was spun around from behind, glimpsing the red-haired man who he’d hit in the nose with his elbow. Blood still ran down the guy’s mouth and chin as his fist landed against the left side of Caleb’s face, popping his head backwards. The man weighed into Caleb with a left blow to his ribs, but Caleb maintained concentration on retaliating by foot-sweeping him. As the red-haired man fell backwards, Caleb slammed the flat of his foot into his head, knocking it back against the pavement with a thud. All the fight ebbed from the thug as he rolled onto his side moaning and grasping at the back of his head.

Caleb breathed heavily while glancing around for witnesses as he grasped Gil by his arm and helped to steady him as he rose. Gil shook his head slightly, seeming to recover his wits and looked at Caleb with a surprised expression.

“Where the hell did you --”

“Just get in the damned car!” Caleb yelled as he felt warm blood running down into his left eye.

“Shit, no, dude! I better drive,” Gil insisted as he picked up the keys from the pavement near the front of the car. “Dude, your face is bleeding wicked bad.”

Caleb cursed and fell into the passenger seat of the car as Gil raced around to the other side, hopped into the driver’s seat, and revved the engine. He peeled out of the parking lot and into the late afternoon light traffic.

“Shit! I’m not even sure which way is home,” he complained.

Caleb managed to remove his blood-covered sweatshirt, wadded it up, and used it to press against the bleeding side of his face as he attempted to discern their location. He glanced at the GPS, punched the preset for home, and barked, “Just follow the GPS!”

“Okay, just chill,” Gil snapped. “Don’t get all cracked out on me, dude.”

Caleb grumbled under his breath, wishing he had some ibuprofen or something for the pounding in his head. He shifted slightly in the seat to test his back and ribs, but didn’t think anything felt broken or out of place. Still, most of his body ached, and his right knuckles were throbbing. He glanced sidelong at Gil, who had a bloody lip and bruises on his face, but otherwise seemed okay.
What a sight-seeing trip
, he thought darkly.
Katrina’s sure as hell not going to be happy about this
, he considered as an afterthought.

It only took about twenty minutes for them to make it back to the estate, though that was partly due to the fact that Gil enjoyed speeding down the highway at any opportunity. They lurched into the driveway, and Caleb activated the garage door opener, muttering, “Just leave the car out. We have to hose down the tire and fender, remember?”

“Yeah, sure,” Gil replied absently as they got out of the car and walked into the garage.

Katrina and Paige sat in the living room at the back of the house sipping glasses of warm blood and discussing the prospects of the prospective territorial claims needing to be declared by Katrina around Atlanta. The quiet was broken as Gil burst into the kitchen, announcing grandly, “Ladies, your knights have returned! Hey, Katrina! Your car is one bitchin’ machine!”

Both vampires cast curious glances at each another and turned to stare at Gil as he walked into the living room. Gil hastily tossed the car keys across the room towards Katrina, who neatly caught them in one hand over her head without even glancing at them. Both vampires were transfixed, studying the bruises and cuts on Gil’s face. Paige finally demanded, “What the hell happened to you?”

“Oh, shit, man,” Gil began excitedly. “We just got a beer and burger, and so these three rednecks were bitching about our music. Then...”

While Gil rambled about their adventure, Caleb sneaked behind and past him through the kitchen and made his way down the main hallway to the sublevel chamber where he could clean up and tend to his bleeding face.