Page 117 of The Bronze Garza

That girl isn’t drunk.

She’sdrugged.

And that man had been in the process of abducting her.

~

Badged, blue-suitedofficers amble up and down the yellow-taped boardwalk. Onlookers linger, questions circling in hushed voices.

“What happened?” “Who is that girl?’“ “Is there a dead body on the boat?’“

Holly and I have been sitting on the wooden steps to the deck of the restaurant for the past half an hour, while Torin talks with the men in blue on the other side of the yellow tape. They all seem quite familiar with him.

Officers are crawling all over the yacht the girl—who’s since been carted off in an ambulance—had been on.

“I don’t understand,” says Holly, “is your ‘friend’ a fed or something?”

“Or something,” I mumble.

Her phone bellows and she glances down at the screen. “Oh, shit, it’s Mom. She’s probably wondering where I am with the food.”

Torin ducks under the tape and starts in my direction. As he nears, I push up from the steps and meet him.

“Hey—”

I chuck his chest. Hard. He doesn’t even budge.

“What—”

I shove him again. Harder.

“Ly—”

Another shove. This time it’s my own wrists that gets hurt. My puny strength is nothing up against this invulnerable bronze god, but in my mind, he’s crashing back into a wall with a blast.

When I go to shove him again, he grabs my wrist. “The fuck, Lyra?”

“You could’ve gotten shot,” I bite through clenched teeth. “You reckless, arrogant son of a bitch.”

He blinks at me. “I’m fine, Lyra.”

“I’ll call Monica and tell her you almost got yourselfkilled. See how you like getting yelled at.”

A slight twitch of his lips. But I find no humor in this. “And I’ll tell her you just called her a bitch.”

“She’s not your real mother.”

“Ouch, an even bigger offense. Yeah, you won’t be getting any more exotic fruits after I tell her you said that.”

A growl in my throat, I fight against his hold, but his grip is like metal cuffs.

“You’d have rather me let him get away with that girl?”

“You could have called thecops, Torin. Who the hell do you think you are to stand in front of agunlike that? Iron Man?”

My wrists still clamped in his fists, he pulls me up against him and presses a kiss to my temple. “Sorry I scared you, babe.”

Despite the tense atmosphere, his endearment sends warm fuzzies through me. “I’m still telling Monica.”