“The tissue was a nice touch,” Alfie mutters as we walk out of the alleyway.
I take one last glance at the two Scooby Snacks and take a wistful sigh.
“I don’t know what you mean, Dr. Adams. I felt overwhelmed with the situation,” I reply, lifting my chin as I look ahead.
“Mia, you were like a kid at Disney,” he tuts.
“That’s an exaggeration, and a thank you would be nice.” I turn to face him as soon as we’re out of sight of the officer. His face is murderous, as if me saving him from Vincent-Hands-of-Stone-Dodd was an inconvenience for his already bloody nose and swollen eye.
“A thank you? Mia, they need to surgically remove Vincent’s underwear from his ass crack. He’s going to be tasting cotton for weeks because of what you did to him.”
I clamp down on my lip, desperately trying not to laugh. Alfie doesn't crack a joke very often, but when he does, it slaps hard.
“Isavedyou. He was beating the shit out of you. I can show you a mirror if you don’t remember?” He grabs my wrist tugging until I spin around to face him. The long slope of his nose finishes with flaring nostrils that look like they’re trying to take off. His brow pinched together, cheeks flushed red, yet perhaps that’s a result of being pummeled by the heavyweight champion back there. Regardless, it’s clear I embarrassed him. What guy wants to be saved by a woman in heels whilst he’s getting the shit kicked out of him?
“We’re going to talk about this later,” he snips,
“Sure thing, Dad. Are you going to ground me too?”
His nostrils start flapping again and I realize, as his eyes draw in on me, I may have taken this a teensy bit too far. We stomp back to the office. He now seems to care very little about my footwear situation as I trail behind in my heels.
Fuck him.
I really did save him, at least from getting a few more punches from Vincent. What did he want me to do? Cower in the corner like a scared kid? No thanks. I grew up with four brothers. I was the only girl in the family, so let me tell you, I know how to win a fight. It might not be through sheer strength, but a wedgie at the right angle and speed will inflict more pain than a punch to the nose. But if in doubt, a swift throat punch will work wonders, especially if your attacker is coming at you face on.
He tuts. “I’m almost too frightened to wear underwear anymore in case I get on your bad side.”
Did Alfie just talk about his underwear and me in the same sentence? Because that was not on my Tuesday afternoon bingo card.
“And besides, I’m not that old,” he grumbles.
“What?”
“You called me Dad.”
“In the words of Pedro Pascal,Daddy is a state of mind.” I wink, pulling out my key to the office.
I push through the security door and hightail it to my desk. We had to cancel the afternoon sessions due to speaking with the police for so long after they carted Vincent off to the hospital.
“You can’t say that to me, Mia.”
I meet his gaze, noticing the pained expression marring his face. The scrunch of his brow, the flat line of his lips.
“It was a joke, Alfie.”
“Dr. Adams,” he corrects.
Really? He’s really trying to act all professional when he literally just stalked a patient and tackled him to the ground?
“Yeah, okay. Sure.Dr. Adams. If you’re gonna play like that, why don’t you tell me why you were stalking Vincent Dodd today?”
“I wasn’tstalkinghim. I was observing. You’re the one that started running after him.”
“Because he was pulling his dick out to scare that woman. I wasn’t going to stand around and let her be traumatized.”
“Excellent work you did there, Mia. Great job,” he deadpans.
“Miss Sinclair.”
