Page 34 of Lethal Abduction

Because the truth is that after thirty years of very emotionally detached encounters with a series of infinitely interchangeable women, whatever this thing is between Abby and me has come as something of a revelation.

Abby is funny.

Fascinating.

Incredibly talented, when she lets me actually look at her artwork, which she’s seriously shy about doing.

Utterly loyal to, and fiercely protective of, her best friend, Lucia.

And surprisingly unafraid of Roman, which pisses him right off and I secretly find amusing as hell.

Quite apart from all that, Abby is mind-blowing in bed.

Not because she has some secret tricks I’ve never come across. Frankly, after the wild years Roman and I have spent drinking and whoring our way around the world, there aren’t many tricks that would come as any kind of revelation.

Sex with Abby is mind-blowing precisely because she doesn’t employ tricks of any kind.

Not in the way she talks with me, and never once we’re naked. Sex with her is both simple and yet also like walking into a foreign land, one that is utterly fascinating and full of endless wonders. The way I feel when I’m inside her is nothing like anything I’ve ever known before. I can’t explain it, even to myself. All I know is that before her I never understood why any man would settle for one woman. And now that I’ve found her, I know that no other woman will ever interest me again.

In only a matter of weeks, being without Abby isn’t something I even want to contemplate.

I’m about to leave the car, go into the café, and sneak up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and cupping one of those delicious breasts while I kiss my way up her neck, when the door to the kitchen opens and a man walks in from the rear of the café.

“Pete,” I hear Abby say resignedly, her voice drifting through the café’s open door. “I wasn’t expecting you to come back at closing.”

Pete. Her boss.This is the first time I’ve seen the man in person. Abby normally refers to him as Revolting Pete, and now I can see why. Fat, balding, with a greasy face and narrow, unpleasant eyes, Pete has a cigarette dangling from his mouth and an enormous belly hanging over his trousers.

“It was a busy night.” He has a blunt English accent that smacks of middle-class posturing. “I thought I’d come and divide the tips up in person.”

Oh, I just bet you did, motherfucker.

The way Pete’s eyes run over Abby’s body pisses me off even from here. I want to burst in and break his bloated face.

I also know Abby well enough to be pretty sure that if I cause her to lose her job, the chances of her ever talking to me again are minimal.

Fuck.

My fists clench, every muscle tense.

If he goes anywhere near her, thatmudakis fucking dead.

“That boyfriend of yours not here tonight?” Pete glances around, smirking, as he empties the till. “Got sick of you already, did he?” He turns around remarkably quickly for such a big man, standing right behind Abby, on a small step stool as she wipes the glass shelves of the bar. The way she goes still, and the frozen expression on her face in the mirror, are enough to have me out of the car, on high alert.

And when Pete idly puts his fat hand right on her ass, I crash through the café door faster than you can sayworkplace harassment.

I don’t bother announcing my arrival. I just reach across the counter, grab a fistful of Pete’s trousers, and haul the asshole right over it. He lands in an inelegant sprawl of limbs at my feet.

“What—” he begins, but I don’t let him finish. I pull him to standing by the front of his shirt, then plant my fist squarely in the center of his face.

“Fuck!” He staggers back against the counter, touching his nose, then staring at the blood on his hands in disbelief. When he meets my eyes again, his are dumb with shock. “You can’t do this! I’ll have you for grievous bodily harm!”

“The bodily harm would be so fucking grievous,” I snarl, slamming him in the face again for good measure, “that it would be worth it.” I pull him off the counter and pluck the roll of cash from the breast pocket of his stained white shirt. “Abby’s quitting.” I wave the roll in his face. “Consider this her severance pay.” Turning him toward the door, I kick him in the ass to push him through it. “Now fuck off,” I growl, “and don’t even think about coming back until we’re gone, you piece of shit.”

Fortunately, the idiot doesn’t pause to argue. He just takes the hint and runs.

I turn back to find Abby staring at me, pale faced and trembling.

Fuck.

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