Page 41 of Filthy Savage

Cracking my neck, I drive off again, thankful she isn’t going to push the issue. I don’t owe her an explanation, except for getting her out of this situation in one piece. “For the sake of peace in my sister’s place, and respect for her young children, leave the attitude at the door.”

“Fine. For the children,” she agrees.

“Thanks.” I stop on the road beside identical sprawling ranch-style houses with perfect white picket fences.

She cranes her neck left and right to take in the street. “Your sister lives around here?”

“Yes.”

“You must be excited to see her.”

That’s quite the assumption. Too bad I don’t feel like correcting her.