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shook my head. “That’s very rude, you know.”
    The two soldiers who’d fought the swarm took several sensible steps back. One of them shook his head.
    “Oh man, Jeeter, you are so screwed,” he said.
    Jeeter? Seriously, is that even a name? Bad Attitude grinned, looking me up and down.
    “That’s what I’m hoping for.”
    I was never in the mood for this sort of shit. But today? Less so than usual. And I was just looking for a reason to go medieval on someone’s ass.
    Before I could do anything, however, Nathan strode up to the soldiers, grabbed the two offenders by their forest-camo shirtfronts, and lifted them up in the air a few inches. Then he pulled them in close, so he could look them both in the eye.
    “I hear shit like that coming out of your mouths again about Ms. Parker or any of the women at Big Red, I’ll feed you to the zombies myself.” He gave them each a bone-rattling shake and let them go. “Got it?”
    “Yes, sir!” yelled the first one.
    “Jeeter” gave a resentful mutter.
    “What was that, soldier?” Nathan asked. He stepped in a little closer, towering over his target and grabbing another handful of shirt.
    “Nothing... sir,” Jeeter responded. A more grudging “sir” has never been uttered.
    “Nothing?” Nathan looked down at him. “It better have been ‘Yes, sir,’ Private, or I will let this woman have her way with you, and I can guarantee you that you will not enjoy it.”
    Guess I wasn’t the only one itching for someone’s ass to kick.
    “With all respect. sir ,” Jeeter said, “I’d like to see her try.”
    Nathan and I exchanged glances. I smiled and he let go of the soldier with an abruptness that saw the little snot weasel sprawled on the ground. His buddy backed away from him. Maybe the look in my eyes scared him.
    Smart kid.
    I walked up to the fallen soldier and held out a hand.
    “Want some help?” For a second or two I thought he was gonna back down. Unfortunately, or fortunately—it depended on how you wanted to look at it—stupidity and testosterone got in the way.
    “Yeah.” He looked me up and down. “Why don’t you just shut that dick sucker and—”
    The heel of my palm hit the bridge of his nose, in and out like a piston. He yelled, eyes watering in pain, and swung his fist toward my face. I sidestepped, grabbing his wrist with one hand, shoving the palm of my hand in between his shoulder blades, forcing him to the ground.
    One broken nose (his), a dislocated shoulder (also his) and a bruised knuckle (mine, ouch) later, I left my new friend sprawled on the linoleum for someone else to deal with. It took all of ten seconds.
    Nathan looked over the results of my handiwork.
    “I’m glad you didn’t break anything important,” he said.
    I shrugged.
    “Didn’t want him out of commission for too long.”
    “That’s very thoughtful of you,” he said. “But I didn’t mean him. Make sure you ice those knuckles.”
    I grinned, stepped up to the front of the line, and loaded up my plate with seconds. We went back to the table, where Simone eyed us with equal parts amusement and disapproval.
    “Do you really think that was the best way to handle the situation?” she asked.
    I shrugged apologetically.
    “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
    Nathan also shrugged, but without any hint of apology.
    “Little shit learned a lesson, right? And maybe next time the new recruits will treat the wild cards with some respect.”
    “And women in general, of course,” Simone added.
    “Of course,” Nathan agreed.
    “Plus it was fun to watch,” Tony chimed in.
    “Totally,” Kai agreed. “There’s something about a hot chick beating the crap out of a guy in uniform.”
    Nathan chuckled.
    “Can’t argue there, Lando.” Lifting his bottle of whatever microbrew he was drinking, he toasted in Simone’s general direction. “Damned hot.”
    We all turned expectantly, but Simone remained silent. Her cheeks were bright red, though.
    Oh, to