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[Gazelle] >> Borreeedddd.
Winter [Gazelle] >> Pictures of turtle?
She sent me a picture of her turtle enclosure, which looked like an elaborate affair made of moss and water and logs and stones and lamps. I didn’t know what turtle paradise looked like, but that was probably close. A crotchety-looking turtle munched a pile of kale on the mock sandy shoreline.
If this was some weird ploy by Ronald, it was a long con and she was committed to seeing it through.
Sparring resulted in only a minor scratch on my cheek from the glove and a bit of matburn on my ass from eating a takedown. The GranitePaw Maya’s scent had been in the women’s locker room, but she hadn’t been there.
I flicked my shoe back and forth on my foot while Hamid drove us through traffic. The city was busier. Not my imagination. Holiday rush.
Hamid’s eyes moved in the rear-view mirror.
I half-turned.
An old van had pulled up behind us. Nondescript, white, like a thousand others, but driven by a familiar face.
My mouth went dry, the stench of cigarettes and fryer vats smacked forward from my memories.
“Stay calm,” Hamid said.
“That’s the fastest way to make me not calm.” There was exactly no chance FryerVats had cruised up behind us by pure dumb luck. He was a wolf, and I was his prey. He hadn’t shown up with a Free Candy Van to impress me.
I slid my feet out of my heels. I wriggled my toes in my stockings, tucked my phone into the left strap of my bra, and took stock of the various ways out of the car. And kept in mind the closest exit might be behind me.
A blur moved out of the corner of my eye. I whipped around just as the brown blur flung itself at the car.
Crash!
The windshield crunched and spiderwebbed.
Hamid hit the brakes—hard—the seatbelt dug into my neck and shoulder, and the body flopped off the hood.
Smash!
Another jerk forward.
“Stay in the car,” Hamid barked at me.
I whipped my head around to see FryerVat’s maniacal grin through the cracked, warped glass behind me, and the crumpled front of his and his buddy’s van.
Without thinking, I unbuckled my seatbelt. Something told me I would not be staying in the car.
The crowd at the intersection flickered with the flash of cameras.
FryerVats and Companion got out of the van, along with a third. FryerVats pounded on my window. “What the hell! You just hit that guy! What the fuck! Come out here, you dumb bitch! Your guy just wrecked my van!”
It took me a second to realize it was a show for onlookers. He leered at me after he shouted his lines and pressed his lips to the glass.
I shuddered in revulsion, heart pounding, and wanting nothing more than to rip that tongue off and shove it right into his—
The rage, dark, venomous, dangerous, curled like a delicate trail of smoke from the dark place within me.
Companion smashed his elbow into Hamid’s window. It shattered inward in a spray of green-blue glass.
Well… holy shit… yep. Not staying in the car.
Hamid leaned back, drew up his knee, kicked the door almost off its hinges, and sent Companion flat on his ass. The window behind me shattered inward next, spraying me with bits of safety glass, and I spun on my ass—the third wanderer, eyes wide and pupils crazed pinpoints—shoved his arm through the wreckage. I scrambled, and he cackled and reached his hand around to open the door from the inside.
