Page 78 of Girl Anonymous

“What?” Connor shouted.

Maarja glanced at the thin, fit man of forty who stood in the door of the kitchen, staring in astonishment at the violence happening in his living room. “His woman?” she mouthed to him.

Owen—she assumed it was Owen—rolled his eyes in sympathy.

To Maarja, Connor looked genuinely shocked. “I would never betray my true lord and leader, but you—”

Dante interrupted. “In the face of such treachery, you can’t claim your home as sanctuary.”

They sounded as if they were reciting dialogue so formal it was written in the Middle Ages. The guys went into half crouches, circling each other like a dance fromWest Side Story. They snarled, actually bared their teeth, and breathed in strong hisses.

“Okay, that’s it.” Maarja had had enough. She walked toward the kitchen. “Owen? I’m Maarja.” She offered her hand, and they shook firmly. “Do you have a pistol? I’m not going to shoot anybody.”

“Of course I do. Married to him, it’s required.” He went into the kitchen and came back with a small-caliber gun. As he handed it to her, he said, “I’d ask why, but I suspect I don’t want to know.”

“Probably not.” She took it, aimed it at the ceiling over Dante and Connor, cleared the safety, and pulled the trigger.

The blast and the shower of plaster brought the shouting to a halt.

“Maarja, what the hell was that?” Dante shouted.

“Is she crazy?” Connor demanded of his cousin.

“Bad impulse control,” Dante said. “I guess.”

She pointed the pistol at the ceiling again. “Shut up.”

They did, although probably more for fear of what she would do next with the firearm and less out of respect for her fierce pronouncement.

She asked, “You both have a gun on you, don’t you?”

They snorted like angry ranchers who’d been insulted by the resident lamb. “Yeah.”

“Stop posturing, pull your firearms, and kill each other. You’re boring Owen and me.” Maarja clicked the safety on again and carefully transferred the pistol to Owen. To him she said, “Be careful. The barrel’s hot.”

Owen put his arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the kitchen. “I made some iced tea. Would you like some?”

They got through the swinging door and out of sight, then stopped to listen. They heard the thump of fist against flesh, then another, then—

“You’ve got the hardest fucking face.” Maarja could almost see Dante shaking his fingers. “I hurt my fist every time.”

“Next time you decide to attack me for no fucking reason I’ll put on mysquishyface.” Connor sounded like the meanest, most bewildered son of a bitch on the planet. Also, as if he’d been hit in the nose and was congested. “What the hell’s the matter with you, man? Why the attack?”

“I got a call you’d been exterminated.”

“The hell you say? From who?”

“An impeccable source. Turns out it was a way to lure me onto the PCH and run me off the cliff.”

“You look alive to me.”

“I’m not that easy to sabotage.”

“I’m not that easy to kill, either. Why did you believe the call?”

“Where were you at 4:43 a.m. when I called to verify?”

Silence.

---