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A hand striking flesh.

My heart skips a beat.

I dash around the corner and find Azalea supporting her right wrist in her left palm, a pinched look of pain on her face.

A foot away, Buddy Fischer cups his cheek, astonishment in his eyes.

Their expressions tell an immediate story of what happened here, and rage surges through me instantly.

I take a deep breath before making my move. I cannot tear his head off his neck. As nice as that might feel, it would not provide a solution to this situation.

Once I can assure myself I will not kill this man, I grab him by the wrist and twist his arm back, pinning him against the wall in one fluid motion. “What did you do to her?”

Buddy grunts in pain instead of answering.

I look over at Azalea. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

She is silent, her lips trembling, fear in her eyes.

“I didn’t do anything to this bitch,” Buddy says, spitting the words, fighting against me.

A little tweak to his arm causes him to settle down with a grunt. “Sorry, sorry. Not bitch. Just. A misunderstanding.”

I look to Azalea, disbelief clearly written on my face. “Was this a misunderstanding?”

She snorts, still cradling her wrist. “Only if he confused my ass for my hand,” she says.

I lean into Buddy. “That does not sound like a misunderstanding. That sounds like assault.”

“Assault? What? No man. Jesus. It was just a little slip of the hand. No one was hurt.”

Azalea walks over to him. Leans down until their faces are close...

And spits in his mouth. “Your hand didn’t slip.You’re a creep. Stay the hell away from me.”

I chuckle. She is dazzling, my Azalea.

Not my.

Robert’s.

Robert’s Azalea.

And what the hell am I to do with Buddy? A headache forms behind my eyes.

“Listen, I had too much to drink. I got a bit… inappropriate.” He stumbles over that word like it is foreign to him. It likely is. “It’s a big night. Things got out of control.”

His behavior is intolerable no matter who the victim is. The fact that he touched Azalea has me considering a much harsher punishment than this would normally justify. Still, I seek the most severe reprimand I can offer within reason. My first thought is to fire him back toward Earth in an escape pod.

Before I can articulate my displeasure and make Buddy understand how difficult I plan to make his life, Metis softly interrupts.

“The ship is fifteen minutes from entering the exosphere of Mars. Non-crew passengers are asked to gather on level four to view the arrival.”

I look quickly at Azalea, then lean close to speak to Mr. Fischer. “No more drinks. And you’ll be enjoying the descent from the privacy of your bedroom. Understood?”

He swallows slowly. “Understood.”

“Good. Metis will make sure you abide by both restrictions.” I pause, squeezing his arm one more time until he groans. “Do not think this is finished. We will discuss what happened after the landing.”