Coffee? Of course I liked coffee. I didn’t need all my memories to know that. Who the hell didn’t like it? Not someone I would easily trust.
In lieu of words, I gave a non-committal shrug.
The girl helped me into the first booth we reached, the bench seat covered in gaudy red leather, and the tabletop patterned with the scratched surface of a checkerboard. The building smelled like grease and burnt coffee, but it had an easy, homey quality to it that I liked.
“Wait here, I'll be right back,” she promised, twisting her hands in her apron and darting out of my line of sight, presumably to get the coffee. Fuck, she better be off getting it. The ache in my side was making my teeth hurt, red wetness seeping through the thin cotton of my gown.
I was bleeding.
I pressed a palm to the wound and waited—what else was I going to do? I didn’t even know my own name.
The black and white squares of the tabletop mesmerized me as I stared at them, counting how many there were in a row from one side of the table to the other, so I had no idea how much time had passed when a man's voice jolted me out of my daze.
“Caley!” he boomed as he threw open the front door and stalked in like he owned the whole damn place. He was tall and broad, filling the doorframe like the diner was a funhouse, his heavy motorcycle boots tapping a solid sounding noise when he stalked across the sticky floor and stopped sharply in front of my table.
“Who …” he squinted at me, “the fuck are you?”
Slowly, I lifted my face in his direction … and it was like looking at the sun.
Warmth flowed over and through me as my lips parted and my heart began to pound inside my chest. I’d never seen this man before in my life, I was sure of it, and yet … there was something soothingly familiar about him, too.
The sharp emerald green of his eyes, framed by dark brown lashes, seemed to see right through me as he glared like I was something the cat had just dragged in. Which, I supposed, I sort of was. I must seriously look like a hot mess to be getting this sort of reaction from total strangers …
He had big, muscular arms, traced in ink and brilliant with color. I wanted to reach out and touch them, run my fingers over the curve of his biceps and feel the hardness underneath. He was a beautiful specimen of masculinity—even if he looked like a proper asshole, too.
“Arlo!” the waitress groaned, coming back out of the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee and a towering plate of French fries. “What are you doing here so early? We had a deal, remember?”
“Yeah, we did. And you broke it. You were supposed to be home almost thirty goddamn minutes ago.” The man, Arlo, dismissed me from his attention as he turned his glare on the waitress. Whether or not this was a normal reaction, I found myself leaning toward him, breathing in the sweet, musky scent of earth. Was it weird to sniff people? I had the gut feeling it most definitely was.
Is this her boyfriend? I wondered, looking between the two. Her lover? The man had the air of a controlling asshole; I was immediately wary of him and sympathetic for … Caley? That was her name, right? It matched up to the tag on her uniform, after all. She was curvy and very pretty. I didn’t see any reason why he wouldn’t want someone as beautiful as her. Certainly she was a good ten levels above my bedraggled state.
“What?” She frowned at him, looking confused, then darted her gaze to the clock on the wall and sighed. “Sorry, 'Lo. It was a crazy busy shift and I must’ve lost track of time.” Caley placed the plate of food and mug of coffee down in front of me, and my belly grumbled loudly.
“Who's this?” the angry looking man demanded, throwing a disgusted look my way. I knew my cheeks were flaming with embarrassment. It was hardly my fault I looked like a drowned rat. Or at least, I didn't think it was.
“I found her in the alley out back. She's pretty beat-up and can't talk …” The young girl twisted her mouth into a frown. “I just wanted to get her warmed up and grab her some food, then maybe drop her over at the hospital to get checked out.”
Unconsciously, I licked my dry and cracked lips.
Truth.
Each word she spoke was pure truth; I drank it all in like fine wine.
The man grunted, and didn't look at all pleased, but sat himself down in the booth opposite me. For a tense moment, our gazes remained locked. His bright green on my … whatever color mine were.
Eventually hunger overtook my need to win our stare-off, and I tentatively helped myself to some fries, chewing carefully and wincing in pain as I swallowed. Arlo continued to watch me as I ate, and I tried not to cry with the fresh pain lancing through my throat with each bite. But I couldn’t … wouldn’t … stop eating. The salty heat of these fries was like heaven, and I wondered when the last time I’d eaten was. It felt like it’d been years.
Caley gave me a sympathetic look and a small smile.
“Let me finish closing up, okay? Give her a chance to eat.” She moved away while I scarfed down every last fry and every single sip of coffee. It was liquid gold. I felt immediately better after drinking it, although my side was still bleeding, hot droplets tracing down my ribs.
“Well, this is going to be interesting,” Arlo muttered, eventually breaking the silence as I arched an eyebrow in question at him. “This,” he gestured a hand at me, “I can't wait to see what Fionn says about you.”
“Arlo, you don't really have to tell Fionn, do you?” Caley gasped, coming to join us while rolling up her apron and shoving it into her backpack. “We can just drop her at the county hospital and be done with her, can’t we?”
“You know the rules, Caley,” Arlo shrugged, standing from his seat and glaring down at me like I’d somehow managed to disrupt his afternoon. “Anyone that sets foot in the diner that’s not one of ours gets checked out by Fionn—human or no. Take her to the hospital and then bring her by the clubhouse.”
As he turned away, I saw that the back of his leather vest had several patches. There were the letters MC, a small patch that said 1%er, another that read New Orleans, LA, and the largest, central image featured a winged skull. The words The Wild Hunt were scrawled across the top.
Now, why did the fuck did that one sound so familiar?
It was with a healthy dose of caution that I followed Caley out of the diner to the dark, gloomy black surface of the parking lot. Despite her intentions and words ringing with truth, I couldn't shake the underlying feeling that there was much more going on than what was being said aloud. But of course, what choice did I have? I couldn't stay in the diner forever.
“Take your stray to Our Lady to get checked out,” the man, Arlo, told Caley and flicked an annoyed look at me. “She reeks of blood.” He snorted and shook his head, less like he felt sorry for me and more like I was an inconvenient annoyance to him. I guess since he was pretty, he didn’t feel the need to be nice. “I’ll see you back at the clubhouse.”