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Elijah laughs. Halligan doesn’t.
He also doesn’t move. “Why didn’t someone warn me it was Bring Your Rich Bitch To Work Day?”
Elijah straightens up with a grunt. “Back off, Halligan. Let her be.”
I should probably keep my mouth shut.
However, it seems that I can’t.
“Sounds like impotent bitterness talking. Here’s some free advice, Mr. Halligan. Revise the personality and hose yourself off. You smell like a kennel.”
His eyes travel down my neck, crudely fastening on my chest. “Figures you’ve latched onto Lyonne. One uppity cunt deserves another.”
“Says the loser who apparently can’t stay on his feet in the ring.”
That’s a mistake. A corded muscle pulses in his neck and the scarlet flush in his cheeks is pure rage. A sense of self preservation warns me to move back, maybe hide behind Elijah.
Stubbornness wins, won’t allow me to retreat. I keep staring him down. Or up, since he’s about a foot taller.
Elijah exhales noisily. “Halligan. Warning you. You’re done for the day.”
“What the FUCK is this shit?” Micah’s here and he’s furious. He stands there barefoot, sweaty, wearing only fighter gloves and a pair of black shorts. Before anyone answers, he rapidly assesses the situation and swiftly moves in.
Halligan finally takes a step back when Micah inserts himself in front of me. Micah gently nudges me back further and I feel Elijah’s hand on my arm as he tugs me to relative safety behind the desk.
The battle has now shifted and two strong men with an obvious rivalry breathe fire at one another.
“Don’t youeverfucking talk to her again.” Micah issues this as an order, an ominous one. “Or I’ll tear your ugly head off and drop kick it to the west side.”
Halligan glances at me and snorts through his nose. “Then tell your latest snatch not to flash her shit in my face unless she plans to be generous with the goods.”
Micah gives no warning. He levels the guy with a punch that’s so fast and brutal, Halligan buckles to the floor. Blood spits out of his nose, too much to be caught by his fingers. He glares up at Micah with murder all over his face while Micah prowls, ready to pounce.
A distinctive click to my right sends my head snapping in that direction. The handgun in Elijah’s hand is not being pointed at anyone, but he’s making it clear that could change.
“Boys.” He speaks in a weary tone that implies he’s used to dealing with skirmishes such as this. “That’s enough. It’s over. Halligan, you’ve just earned a two week suspension.”
“Fucking bullshit.” Halligan gets to his feet, blood still pouring from his nose.
Micah glances at me and circles closer, just in case Halligan gets a burst of violent energy.
Halligan, however, has apparently decided to cut his losses. He slams out the door with such force I’m surprised it doesn’t break. Micah keeps an eye on him, positioning himself at the door and watching his progress. Within ten seconds a noisy engine guns and an old green pickup truck roars down the street.
Micah nods to himself and finally relaxes a notch, losing some of the tension in his shoulders. He turns and looks right at Elijah. “Thanks, boss.”
Elijah stows his gun in the same drawer where he dropped the broken frame. “He’ll cool off. He always does.” Noticing that I’m still standing around behind the desk, Elijah surveys me with a vague air of disapproval. “But you might want to escort your friend out of the eye of the storm.”
Micah beckons like I’m a child. “Come on, Tess. We’re going.”
Since I’ve already caused enough trouble, I don’t argue. I can hear Elijah chuckling as I exit while Micah impatiently holds the door.
“You’re parked next door?” Micah keeps looking around, in search of any potential Halligan threats.
“Yes. Wait, you need to put on your shoes.”
“No, I need to get you the hell out of here.”
He steers me on the inside of the sidewalk, positioning himself as a shield closest to the street. It’s not a long walk to the Candee Shoppe. The banana/dildo must have taken a break. He’s not in sight.
