Page 32 of Wicked Pickle

I shrug. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She smooths the netting wrap around her shoulders. “I guess I’ll toss them.”

Nope. I snatch them from her hand and shove them in my pocket.

“Trophy?” she asks.

“I didn’t exactly win.” She’s clearly anxious to get out of here before Bailey comes out of the bathroom.

She peers out. “Coast is clear.” She takes my hand, and we hurry across the room. The door is still open, so we quickly make it to the hall. Her hair is chaos.

“Let me fix this.” I reach for the pearl comb and pull it out. Her honey hair falls in a cascade.

“It wasn’t salvageable, was it?” She reaches up to touch her head.

“It’s better like this.” I tuck the comb in another pocket.

“Everybody is going to know what we did,” she says as we move toward the back door.

“Good,” I tell her. “Then they won’t be shocked when I lick frosting from your fingers.”

Her cheeks pink up in the golden light of the lamps. “You’re going to do that?”

“This evening is far from over.”

We pass through the exit into the night air. It’s fully dark.

I take her hand as we approach the tall gate surrounded by rose trellises, considering where I might take her next. I’m not done with this one yet.

But my father’s voice booms from the other side of the wall. “Looks like we found the boys finally,” Dad says. “Took years, but we have them back.”

I hang onto Symphony’s hand. She goes still. She understands they are talking about Merrick and me.

“What do we do with them?” That’s Uncle Sherman. “You think this bar of theirs is a viable operation?”

Fuck. They’re talking about the Leaky Skull. This is exactly what I never wanted.

“Unlikely,” Dad says. “You going to get in there and shore it up?”

Sherman laughs. “Hell yeah, I am. I’ll put some people on it.”

My anger rises like a wave of fire. Likefuckhe will.

I throw the door open so hard it smashes into the trellis wall.

Sherman grins. “There he is. Our prodigal Pickle.”

“I’m not a goddamn Pickle.” I hold off on adding,Motherfucker.

“Every Pickle’s a Pickle.” He chuckles like it’s the best joke.

I see red. Hell no. If I’m around him for five more seconds, I’ll end up insulting him, punching him, or worse. And I promised I wouldn’t make a scene.

I keep my word.

I let go of Symphony’s hand and whirl around.

I’m out of here.

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