Start a War (Saint View Psychos #1)(57)

My knees instantly went weak, but I pushed up on my toes, clutching his arms while the rest of the world around us ceased to exist. His fingers slid to the back of my head, holding me to him.

It was over too soon, a mere meeting of our mouths before he stepped back.

My head reeled at the connection such a simple, innocent kiss could create. I stared at him, shocked at how much I’d liked it when it had been so brief. He hadn’t even used his tongue, and yet his fingers flexing in my hair and the press of his hard body beneath my hands promised so much more than he’d given.

The smile I gave him had to have been blinding, but I forced myself to look away, not wanting to seem too eager. “Thank you.”

“For what? The kiss?”

I shrugged. “Yes. And for coming to my house tonight. For making me dinner. For holding my finger.”

He smiled at me sheepishly. “Thank you for not feeling uncomfortable.”

“What can I get you folks?”

Vincent and I looked up, and then moved forward to take our spot at the counter as the door behind us opened with a jingle of the bells.

Three young guys spilled in, their voices loud and slurred. They all wore football jerseys, and one started up a chant. “The Bears are number one. The Bears are number one.”

Nobody joined in.

The young girl behind the counter gave me an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry, what was that? One, two, or three scoops?”

“Just one, ple—”

“Oh! They got raspberry swirl. You guys see this? It’s so fucking good.” One of the drunk football players pushed his way to the front, slamming his hand against the glass top counter. “Fuck yeah, I can’t wait to get that shit in my belly. Yo, girlie. Three scoops for me.”

A mother with two little kids sitting in the booth to our left shot the men a dirty look.

I wrinkled my nose at the absolute stench of alcohol wafting off the guy who’d pushed in and was now standing way too close to me.

“There are children here,” Vincent said quietly.

The man whipped around. “What was that, bro?”

Vincent quietly repeated himself. “I said, there are children here. You can’t speak like that in the middle of a family venue.”

The man’s gaze rolled over Vincent’s suit. “What’s it to you? You ain’t got no kids.”

“I don’t. But the lady just there does, and so does that family, and that one. Not only that, you just pushed in front of people who’ve been waiting their turn. And you were incredibly rude to this young woman who is just trying to do her job.”

The drunk guy laughed like some sort of pig-hyena hybrid. “Oooh, guys. The line police are here. He’s gonna arrest us for line-jumping.”

The young girl behind the counter with an ice cream scoop in her hand, still waiting for me to choose a flavor, pointed at the drunk guy. “Walk yourself to the back of the line. I’m not serving you.”

We’d drawn the attention of the entire room. There was no missing it, every person had their eyes glued to us. I cleared my throat uncomfortably.

“I’m a paying customer!” the man shouted. “You can’t refuse service!”

“Actually, I can. Because you’re drunk, cussing, and basically being rude. So now instead of walking yourself to the back of the line, you and your buddies can walk yourself right out of the shop.”

The girl couldn’t have been any older than sixteen, and yet she handled herself with complete grace and confidence that I envied.

The man clearly didn’t feel the same way. “Fuck you, you stupid little bitch.” His fingers curled into a fist, that he punched into the glass ice-cream cabinet.

The glass exploded, shattering everywhere. I jumped a mile, while the girl behind the counter screamed.

Vincent was on the man in a heartbeat, shoving him up against the wall, his hand around his throat.

The families around us gathered their children and scurried for the door.

“Call the police!” I shouted to the girl behind the counter. She grabbed a phone off the wall while I turned to help Vincent.

I had no idea what I was going to do. I didn’t know how to fight. But I wasn’t going to let him go up against three men by himself.

The other two guys rushed to help their friend.

“Behind you!”

But Vincent didn’t seem to need my warning. As the first of the guy’s friends moved in, Vincent pulled the first one off the wall and spun him round, sending both men flying to the floor.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

So did the third guy.

Vincent snarled at him. “I suggest you don’t come a step closer unless you want to end up like your friends on the floor there.”

With huge eyes, the man held up his hands. “I’m good with remaining vertical.”

“Like I thought.” Vincent sucked in deep breaths, trying to calm the tremble in his fingers. He twisted his head to one side, his neck cracking audibly, and then turned to the girl behind the counter. “Are you okay?”

She nodded quickly, complete and utter fear in her eyes.

“Lock yourself in the storeroom until the police get here, okay?”

The girl’s eyes were huge, but she agreed and scurried away.

Vincent waited until I heard the door lock, and then he stepped over the men, both bleeding on the floor. The one who’d punched the cabinet predictably had gashes and glass stuck in his arm and across his knuckles. They bled profusely while he howled. His friend lay beneath him, unconscious either from when his friend’s head had collided with his or when they’d both gone down like a sack of potatoes. He’d hit the floor with a sickening thud, but he was still breathing. His chest rose and fell rhythmically.