by Gena Showalter
The bedroom door crashed against the wall as a harsh male voice snarled, "I hear you've threatened to disembowel anyone who steps foot in your room. Well, here I am. But before you disembowel me, you better tell me what the hell is going on."
~
She flicked an irritated glance at her companion. AKA the boy she couldn't ditch no matter what she tried. And she'd tried a lot. Dine and dash. The old "wait here, I'll be right back." The classic "what's that over there?" And even brutal honesty -- "just leave me alone, I hate you."
