Page 52 of The Devil’s Feather

Rafael turned back to his red-faced, purpling prey. “Apologize. Now!”

My hands shook. Deandra found my earbuds while the series of tech bros fluttered uncertainly around us. Fear warred openly with pride on their faces. What was it Rafael said about insecure men wanting to confront him? From the muttering, they were hyping each other up to go after him. Nobody wanted to be first.

“S-sgghh-sorry,” the blonde man choked out.

“Elaine is fine, big guy. Nothing I can’t patch up,” Dee said in her best nurse voice.

We were drawing a crowd. Passing cars slowed as people rubbernecked. Not that I blamed them; I absolutely would have done the same. I popped the earbuds into my ears, and the rising panic leveled out.

I focused on Deandra. “Oh, your elbow is bleeding!”

She contorted to look at it. “Just a little abrasion from where I bounced off the wall.”

“Here, lemme at least put a bandaid on it.”

Watching me like a giant, terrifying hawk, Rafael finally released the man. The tech bro slid down the wall. A thin streak of blood marked his passage.

In a weak wheeze, he sputtered, “I’m gonna sue the fuck out of you!”

Rafael laughed. “Go ahead. Tell everyone about you threw a woman down on the sidewalk and got clotheslined for it.” He waved to the thicket of phones aimed in our direction. “Would you like my card?”

The man angrily waved away the friends trying to help him up. One of them—dark-haired but otherwise identical in every way—decided to be brave and stepped up, raising his fists. His bros hooted and hollered for him to “beat that freak’s ass”.

A wild spark lit Rafael’s eyes, spreading into a broad, crazed grin. His hands came up, and he dropped into a fighting stance with deadly ease, light on his feet.

“Oh, pretty please hit me! I would love the excuse to turn you and all your fuckhead friends into a bloody smear on the sidewalk.” Rafael rolled his massive shoulders.

Jesus. I’m dating a murderer.

The challenger visibly swallowed and took a step back. The rest of the bro brigade clustered around their fallen bro, lifting him to his feet. An onlooker jeered from across the street. Dark-haired bro re-joined his friends. They all mumbled macho threats as they shuffled off together.

I snorted. Deandra shared a knowing look with me. Almost a shame the guy didn’t try it.

A chorus of onlookers called out, “How tall are you?”

Rafael sneered. “Tall enough to see into your grim future if you ask me that again.”

Whew, he is way too activated to stay out here. So am I, for that matter.

I reached for his sleeve, holding back at the last moment in case he reacted badly to touch. “Let’s just go get our food.”

The restaurant was blessedly quiet, calming my adrenaline shakes. Every eye followed the giant composer, just as he’d predicted. Whispers swirled in his wake. We passed through the main dining room, paneled in white and festooned with plants spotlit by skylights. I felt sorry for whoever had to water everything.

Rafael had reserved a private room in the back; a choice I was extra grateful for. Someone turned the instrumental music down as we entered. Twitchy, eyes down, my date ducked into the bathroom as we sat.

Deandra expelled a huge breath. “That was some shit. Are you really ok?”

“Yeah, I⁠—”

A heavy thud landed nearby, and we both jumped. Rafael rejoined us, stone-faced. He sat with his back to the corner, facing the door. Staring at it as though he expected an attack at any moment. He pushed the table away from the wall to accommodate his legs.

The server came by. Deandra and I ordered mochi pancakes and coffee. Rafael ordered half the menu from memory, shaking his hand out under the table. The server brought the blessed caffeine quickly.

Dee stirred two teaspoons of sugar into her latte with a deliberate clink-clink. “You were ready to beat some ass out there.”

“Yes,” Rafael said, grimacing at the sound.

She grinned at him. “That was fucking hot. I’ve never seen a man stand up for his woman like that. They all say they will, but they punk out when it comes time to throw hands.”