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I slipped inside and shut the door, locking it behind me.
“Now what did you think you were gonna sneak in here and do to me?” Addy’s voice floated above the water.
The bathroom door was only partially open, but I had a clear view of the motherfucker from the lobby.
I’d seen him staring at each of my girls like they were fresh pieces of meat.
They were better than anything they served in that shitty ass diner. He had no right to be anywhere near Addy.
Without warning, I shoved the door open. I took in the living corpse on the floor, the small smear of blood on the wall, and Addy.
She looked semi back to normal again. Her chest was heaving, and a stain of irritation marred her face, but I could understand that.
“Zane.”
I loved when she said that.
“What is going on in here?” I kept my tone light and moved up behind him, wrapping a forearm around his throat, locking him into a choke-hold as I forced him to his feet.
“He was trying to steal,” Addy stated.
“Is that right? Did you come in here to steal?”
He sputtered around my hold on his neck, a strained, “no,” slipping out.
“Are you calling me a liar?”
She pretended to be offended, placing her hands on her hips.
I gave him some leeway so he could speak.
“I’m sorry,” we’re his winning first words.
“He came in here and tried to steal what’s yours,” she pouted with a face full of innocence we both know was bullshit.
Her words, on the other hand, she could repeat that day in and day out. The mine part, not that some giant motherfucker with an uneven beard tried to take what wasn’t his.
She didn’t seem all that shaken up. And she was standing while our mutual friend was on the ground holding the back of his head.
“Is that true?” I asked him. “I gotta tell you I don’t appreciate when other people touch my shit.”
Another apology.
“Why do people always want to apologize, after? You sure as fuck weren’t sorry when you first crept in here.”
I let go of him altogether, for just a second. As long as it took me to grab his right arm, bring it behind his back, and start snapping his fucking fingers.
It was a simple task, as easy as breaking a twig in half. He screamed with each one and tried to get away.
The room sounded almost as if a mini-array of fireworks were going off with each pop and break.
When his right hand looked like nothing more than flesh covered puzzle pieces, I moved to the left.
I kicked his legs out from beneath him in the process.
“All done,” I announced with the snapping of his pinky.
He fell to the side, groaning in agony, a bit of drool coming out of his mouth.
