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“Who the fuck are you?”
I exhale slowly, gritting my teeth as I look back at Pink.
“Her boss.”
I turn back to Dahlia’s door and raise my fist—
“And?”
A low growl rumbles in my chest.
“There is noand, sunshine. That’s it. Now kindly fuck off.”
The meddling neighbor’s door shuts as I start to pound on Dahlia’s apartment again, loudly. So loudly, actually, that I don’t hear Pink’s door open again.
But I do feel the cold metal of what might be a gun barrel pressing into the back of my neck.
“You need to stop banging on her door and leave.”
My lips twist. “Andyouneed to seriously rethink your actions.”
The lock clicks open, the door in front of me swings wide, and suddenly I’m face-to-face with a seething Dahlia. She’s wearing a baggy oversized Yankees t-shirt and white cotton sleep shorts, and she’s got her arms crossed petulantly over her chest with a look of spite on her face.
“What do we think, girl?” her neighbor asks.
“I think you should shoot him,” Dahlia hisses with a cold, malicious smile and something else I can’t quite place smoldering in her eyes.
I tilt my head to the side. “I would consider your next wordsverycarefully.”
“Or what, dickhead?” Pink mutters behind me. “Gonna huff and puff and—”
Now, there’s surprising someone standing in the hallway of a nice, clean, building with a doorman on the Upper West Side with a gun… And then there’s actually being able touseit.
Or keep it.
Pink doesn’t stand a chance when I whip to the side, whirl, slam the barrel away from my neck and snatch the rifle out of her hand.
…Which isn’t actually a rifle at all. It’s a fucking camera tripod.
Pink swallows, her face paling a little as I loom over her. But the sneer doesn’t quite leave her face.
“Whatcha gonna do, tough guy?” she spits. “Hit me?”
“Next time,” I growl quietly, chucking the tripod past her through the open door to her apartment, “mind your own fucking business.”
I go to shove Dahlia into her apartment and then slam the door behind us. But Pink isn’t done running her damned mouth yet.
“You enter her apartment without asking first, and Iwillbe calling the police, fuck-face.”
I exhale with a low, growling sigh, rolling my eyes as I glare at her and then swivel my gaze back to Dahlia.
“Well?”
Her lips purse, her arms still crossed over her chest with a sour look in her eyes. But finally, she sighs.
“Fine.”
“Dahlia?” Pink presses.
