“Yeah, well,” I grumbled, “you know what they say about people in hell. Helena, get in the car.”
I nodded her toward the passenger’s side.
“I don’t care who you are,” said Asswipe as Helena rounded the rear of The Judge to get to the other side, “you don’t get to tell her what to do.”
“Relax,” I told him, “she likes it.”
Thatsure got his goat. Steering away from me, a glower overtaking his face, he hurried to intercept Helena. An action that ensured he was about to have a very,verybad day.
And given that he worked for a nonprofit, his insurance was probably shit.
Oh well.
Play stupid games…
“Give me another chance, Leaflet,” he said, ignoring me as I stalked around The Judge’s grille on my way to more formally introduce myself. Which was okay. He wouldn’t be the first—or the last for that matter—to receive a heaping helping of find out after fucking around in my vicinity.
“Does Cleo know you’re looking to date around?” Helena asked him.
“Cleo?” he echoed, fighting hard to keep the surprise out of his voice and his expression. By that time, I had him by the scruff of his stuffy-ass coat, and it didn’t take much to fling him away from Helena and send him backpedaling.
He’d justhadto use a nickname. And now I was probably going to kill him.
Insurance issue solved.
“How dare you put your hands on me?” he snarled after getting his feet under himself again.
I spread my arms, a gesture that asked him what he was going to do about it.
He started toward me.
Making my fucking day.
“Grim,” Helena called to me from behind, her voice soft, frightened. “Don’t hurt him, Grim, please.”
Damnit.
Pete the Treat took a swing, which I dodged. His second fist, I caught.
I’d had tussles with literal demons and, once, a drunken banshee.Thistwig-in-the-mud was fucked.
Or he would have been.
I squeezed his hand in mine, silver rings digging into his flesh, and that expression of rage cracked, betraying pain. But Helena had asked me not to hurt the son of a bitch, so I wouldn’t.
Very much.
I flung his arm aside, caught him by the collar of his coat, then shoved him backward, taking care to give his soul a little love jolt in the process.
He hit the side of a Camry hard before crumpling witless to the ground. Though he probably hadn’t felt the impact because of my hard reset of his life, I took solace in the fact that he felt the effects now—and would for at least a week.
Nothing like a Control-Alt-Delete to recalibrate a bitch.
While Helena’s ex or whatever sat on the pavement trying to remember his name, take stock of his glasses, and account for his nonexistent ’nads, I stalked back to the car.
Stunned, Helena traded her attention between the two of us until the instinct to run to Professor Punk Ass had her starting forward.
“Car,” I said, pointing her toward the passenger door, and she obeyed, getting in before fastening her seat belt.
