In Bed With The Wild One. Colleen Collins
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assault.
Sweet Shanda? Not so you could notice. For being the best time Slab had ever had, Shanda was one tough cookie.
“I guess I didn’t need to fly to San Francisco to protect her,” Emily murmured. “Slab was going to take her apart with his bare hands, huh? Sounds like vice versa to me.”
But their tiff was cut off by the sound of splintering wood, as if a door had been forced open, and heavy footsteps that boomed right over Emily’s head. Now another angry voice joined the fray.
“Slabicki!” the new person growled. “I heard you was back in town.”
From this set of noises, Emily could conclude that this was all happening one floor up, in whatever was on the third floor of The Flesh Pit over the bathroom. As she kept her ear pressed to the register, she heard Slab and the third man trade insults, plus another set of feet stomp around.
How many people were up there?
As if he were right next to her ear, Tyler muttered, “Damn it all to hell. This is just what I need. More mopes. The damn place is crawling with mopes.”
“Who you calling a mope?” the third man demanded. “Who are you, anyway?”
“I’m nobody,” Tyler retorted. “I’m not even here.”
“Yeah, well, you’re in my business now!”
And then he pounded across the floor, and there was the sickening sound of a fist meeting a face.
Tyler’s face? She gasped, almost pitching right off her perch on the sink. Not Tyler’s face!
She knew what she had to do, and she leaped off the sink so fast she skidded into the first stall. It didn’t matter. Her mind honed in on one thought and one thought only.
Save Tyler.
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