Page 18 of Sins of the Fathers
“A hazmat suit might be appropriate,” Grady said as they eyed the bar.
“Don’t bend over the pool table, and don’t shine a UV light in the men’s room,” Dawson joked.
“Thanks for that. Now I have to bleach my brain.”
Dawson didn’t mind the danger—he and Grady could handle themselves against much worse than a rowdy bunch of bikers. It galled him to have to pass for straight to avoid trouble when he’d been out and proud since his early teens.
Dawson walked in first and took a seat at a table. He had his back to the wall and a clear view of the interior. Grady came in a few minutes later and pulled up a stool at the bar, flagging the bartender to order a drink.
“What’re you having?” The server who came to wait on Dawson looked like she’d pulled a double shift.
“Coke and a burger with fries,” he answered, not needing a menu and not planning to eat much of the food. He needed a reason to hang out, and dawdling over his meal would suffice.
Grady was doing what he did best, chatting up the bartender and trading comments about the game on the big screen over the bar. He’d probably nurse his beer for the full time they stayed, but even a second drink wouldn’t challenge his tolerance.
Dawson looked toward the bar with the pretense of checking the score on TV, although he scanned the patrons instead. A working-class roadhouse in rural North Carolina didn’t expect an upscale crowd. Deer antlers, prize buck photos, and bowling trophies decorated the walls and shelves. The only celebrity photos were of a third-rate pro wrestler who was from the area and a local politician now serving jail time for corruption.
When his burger came, Dawson shifted in his chair for a look at the rest of the customers seated at tables. He guessed that most were somewhere between late twenties and early forties, with a haggard look that easily added a decade to their real age.
A tall, dark-haired man standing at the end of the bar caught Dawson’s attention.He looks a little too well-groomed to be here. And he’s trying to look casual, but he’s wound tight. Wonder if he’s the one with the ’Vette.
He heard Grady laugh and wondered what he was talking about with the bearded redhead on the stool next to him. They seemed to have bonded over something, and Dawson knew Grady was pumping his companion for information.
The tall man’s gaze flickered to Grady and his new “friend” before quickly looking away. The glance lasted seconds, but Dawson thought he read a range of reactions in the stranger’s blue eyes.Concern. Curiosity. And…possessiveness? Are they together and working the room separately like Gray and me? If so, whose side are they on—and why are they here?
Dawson felt the tall stranger’s gaze land on him like a spotlight. His expression shifted to annoyance, assessment, and possibly, recognition. Dawson played it cool, although his heartbeat quickened at the possibility that the man he didn’t know recognized him.
Many of the customers wore denim jackets or biker vests with patches. As he nibbled his burger, Dawson idly read the patches. He saw a number of pyramids with red apex. Some patches readHR4HO,D2C, and*D33P6FR33KS.
I’ve seen those before. Shit. Where did I see them?
In the next breath, Dawson remembered and froze.
Human Rights For Humans Only. Death to Cryptids. Deep-six Freaks. Fuck. This bar’s a Human Defense Front hangout. We’ve got to get out of here before we end up like Knox.
Dawson did his best to school his face to give nothing away in his expression. He forced himself to eat a few more bites so his departure wouldn’t look suspicious, all the while keeping an eye on Grady and trying to scan for threats.
He threw down enough bills to cover the food and a tip, skidding the chair across the sticky floor. Dawson saw Grady’s shoulders flinch and knew his signal had been received.
He fought the urge to grab Grady and run, but he knew that their best chance of getting out lay in not attracting attention.
Dawson sauntered toward the door, only to have two large men block his path.
“You’re one of them Kings, ain’t you?” the burly man on his left said.
“Freak protectors, that’s what you are,” the bouncer-sized man to the right added. “Betraying humans. You shouldn’t have come here.”
Dawson felt Grady step up behind him. He knew they were both armed, but he didn’t want to turn this into a bloodbath.
“Which of you drugged Knox?” Dawson challenged.
“The addict? Why d’ya think he needed any help?’ the bouncer mocked. “Probably just needed a fix.”
“You lured him here,” Dawson accused. “And then you drugged him. Why?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Dawson saw the crowd gather, eager to see a brawl.
“Why don’t you ask him? If his brains aren’t too scrambled to remember,” the burly man taunted. “Just proves he’s as much of a freak as those monsters you people protect.”
