He snags her arm again, a little more roughly this time.
I’m on my feet and in his face in a heartbeat, his wrist in my fist, twisted the wrong way. I tower over him, pin him with the glare that’s made stone-cold killers quake in their boots. “Motherfucker, you put your hand on her again, I’ll rip it off and shove it so far up your ass you’ll be able to tickle your tonsils from the inside.”
He’s so shocked and in so much pain that his mouth just flops open and closed.
Myka touches my arm. “Rev, you can let go. I think he gets it.”
I’d rather just break the twerp’s wrist for good measure, but for her, I let go with a little toss—he nearly hits the ground, stumbles backward to a seat and slumps into it, clutching his wrist like I’d done something other just twist it a bit. What a puss.
He’s panting, eyeing me with undisguised terror. “Myka, you know this…thisperson?”
“Yes, Darren, I know this person.” She says this flat, with a raised eyebrow.
Darren waits, as if expecting something further from her. “That was uncalled for. I’m owed an apology.”
Myka laughs, an amused tinkle. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.” She tangles her fingers in mine and tugs me away. “Goodbye, Darren.”
“Myka—”
She doesn’t look back. “Goodbye, Darren.”
We breeze past Ana, who’s watching me with open shock.
“I’ve never seen anyone go from asleep to kicking butt so fast in my life,” Ana says, catching up to us.
Myka glances up at me. “You were never asleep, were you?”
I shrug. “Not really.”
She glances at her sister. “That wasn’t him kicking butt. That was him being nice.”
Ana eyes me warily. “I…see.”
Myka bumps into me playfully. “Thank you for that.”
I give her a look, a shrug. “He grabbed you. Didn’t like it.”
“Me either.” She huffs. “I can’t believe he’d show up here like that. What could he possibly want?”
Ana precedes us to the elevator and presses the call button. “Oh—he wants you back.”
Myka stares at Ana in dumbfounded shock. “Hewhat?”
“His little receptionist girlfriend dumped him.”
“And he thinks I’m going to take him back?”
“That’s what I’ve heard. My girlfriend Lucy, you know Lucy, she’s a paralegal where Darren works, just hired on a few weeks ago. And she says he’s been talking about it, about you, like all the time. I guess he’s miserable. Things with his little girlfriend went south almost immediately, I guess.” She eyes Myka. “I take it from that scene you’re not interested.” A glance at me.
Myka laughs again, another delighted tinkle. “Not if he was the last man on earth, evenifI didn’t have Rev. Seeing as Idohave Rev, you couldn’t bribe me with all the money in the world to even look at him again.”
We’re riding down, the others waiting for us in the van, under the portico by the main door.
I have to ask—I’ve been sitting on the question this whole time and it just won’t stay on the right side of my teeth. “You weremarriedto that weaselly, pencil-neck shit-stain?”
Myka laughs, the loudest and most amused laugh yet. “Yes, I was married to that weaselly, pencil-necked shit-stain. Unfortunately. And the longer I’m away from him, the more I agree with your assessment.”
I glance at Ana. “Sorry for the language.”
