Powerfully.
Alan's breath caught in his throat. Her pale, round calves flashed in
the sun. He felt himself harden, painfully. He must have gasped, or
given some sign, or perhaps she heard his skin tighten over his body
into a great goosepimply mass. Her head turned.
Their eyes met and he jolted. He was frozen in his footsteps by her
gaze. One cheek was livid with a purple bruise, the eye above it slitted
and puffed. She took a step toward him, her jacket opening to reveal a
shapeless grey sweatshirt stained with food and -- blood?
"Mimi?" he breathed.
She squeezed her eyes shut, her face turning into a fright mask.
"Abel," she said. "Nice day."
"Are you all right?" he said. He'd had his girls, his employees, show up
for work in this state before. He knew the signs. "Is he in the house
now?"
She pulled up a corner of her lip into a sneer and he saw that it was
split, and a trickle of blood wet her teeth and stained them pink.
"Sleeping," she said.
He swallowed. "I can call the cops, or a shelter, or both."
She laughed. "I gave as good as I got," she said. "We're more than
even."
"I don't care," he said. "'Even' is irrelevant. Are you *safe*?"
"Safe as houses," she said. "Thanks for your concern." She turned back
toward her back door.
"Wait," he said. She shrugged and the wings under her jacket strained
against the fabric.
Pages:
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261