Page 76 of Micah

I squeak before I can stop myself.

“Hey!” I shout. “Stop it!”

Four heads turn toward me.

Slowly.

Like predators catching movement in tall grass.

The man in the middle smiles.

It isn't friendly.

It's the kind of smile that makes your stomach drop.

Tall.

Broad.

Black button-down stretched tight over thick shoulders.

Black slacks.

Polished boots.

His dark hair is slicked back away from a face that might've been handsome once.

Then something happened.

A long white scar slices from his cheekbone almost to his jaw.

It twists when he smiles.

Making him look wrong. Deranged.

“Well,” he drawls. “Would you look at that.”

His gaze crawls over me.

Slowly.

Taking his time.

I fight the urge to step backward.

“What do we have here?”

Nobody answers.

He doesn't seem to care.

“You his wife?” he asks, jerking his chin toward Patrick.

“What?”

“I asked if you're married to this deadbeat.”

“No. I’m his sister.”