Текст книги "Tethered Bond"

Автор книги: Emma Hart

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The HOLLY WOODS FILES series:

Twisted Bond

Tangled Bond

Tethered Bond

The BY HIS GAME series:

Blindsided

Sidelined

Intercepted

The CALL series:

Late Call

Final Call

His Call

The WILD series:

Wild Attraction

Wild Temptation

Wild Addiction

The GAME series:

The Love Game

Playing for Keeps

The Right Moves

Worth the Risk

The MEMORIES series:

Never Forget

Always Remember

The BURKE BROTHERS series:

Dirty Secret

Dirty Past

Detective Drake Nash: hot, alpha, bossy, and… mine.

Now, if someone could tell his ex that... I don’t care if the summer fayre is coming to Holly Woods and she’s on the planning committee. What I do care about is sugar-filled food, bright lights, late nights… and danger. The type that won’t come in the form of Nonna’s new cantankerous British parrot, Gio. (Please see the damage done to Mom’s new curtains.)

Unfortunately, when the danger comes, it comes in the form of something Holly Woods has never seen. The town is rocked to its core, and once again, I’m in danger. Only this time, it isn’t because of my clients—this time, I’m in danger because of who I am… Because of my heritage.

And despite the HWPD’s best efforts, the bodies keep on piling up.

Drake’s determined to protect me. I’m determined that I can do it myself.

Danger. Mystery. Darkness. Malice.

It’ll be a miracle if any of us make it out of this with guns unfired, cupcakes still frosted, and hearts intact…

“She did what?” The mug, still damp from the dishwasher, almost slips out of my hand, but I manage to keep hold of it. “You cannot be serious.”

“She bought a parrot.” Mom grimaces. “A loud, vile, obnoxious parrot named Gio with a penchant for yelling, ‘Ye bloody wench!’ every time I walk through the dang door.”

“Wait. She has a parrot with an Italian name that yells British curse words?” I close the cupboard and look at Mom, raising an eyebrow. “What is it? A super-European parrot or somethin’?”

She sighs, dropping into a chair and burying her face into her arms on my kitchen table. “I don’t even know, darlin’. A parrot!” She sits back upright, and her eyes are wide with frustration and surprise. “A dang parrot! Why does she need a parrot? Does she think no one hears her when she yells about-a her-a pasta? Or her zitella granddaughter?”

“Hey now!” I point a teaspoon at her, holding the cutlery rack with the other. “I am not a zitella. I am actually dating right now.”

“Yes, Noelle, I know. It’s all she’s talked about for a month.”

“Doesn’t she have anything better to talk about? Like, oh, her grandson getting married in three weeks?”

Yeah. Nonna insisted Devin and Amelia get married as soon as possible and dipped into her life savings to pull their nuptials forward. We all know exactly why she did it, and since Drake and I have now been officially dating for five whole weeks and are both still alive, she assumes we’re the next to get married.

Her confidence in our relationship amazes me. Especially when we’re not sure if we’ll even make it through the next six hours without bitching.

We’ve actually gone two days without fighting. Neither of us has said it out loud, mind you, because then we might jinx it. My passion has been solely directed at the increased visits from his ex-fiancée.

That’s partially my own fault. If I hadn’t have busted the mayor’s assistant for a double murder, Jessica never would have gotten the promotion from campaign manager and been handed the final power over everything for the Holly Woods’ Summer Fair. Since Drake is in charge of making sure police are on beat at all times, she’s found any and every excuse to see him about something.

The last one was a concern about the amount of goldfish potentially being sold.

Seriously.

I want to harpoon a goldfish up her ass.

There. I reduced the number already.

“Noelle, are you listening to me?”

“Sure, Mom.” I close the dishwasher. “I always listen to you.”

“The last time I believed that was, oh, never.” She rolls her eyes, and for a moment, she looks exactly like I imagine I do when I do that. How about that, huh? “Gio is helping her plan the wedding, apparently. Poor Amelia has been all but pushed aside while the crazy, old witch implements every Italian wedding tradition known to man.”

“Have you actually told her how insane she is for planning a wedding in such a short time? Does Amelia even have a dress?”

“Yes. And it isn’t Nonna approved.” Mom’s dark-blue eyes glitter as she tells me this. Which means Nonna hasn’t seen it yet or she’d already be giggling. “She has a fitting next week, and Nonna is finally allowed to go. It’s all paid for thanks to Amelia’s dad, so there isn’t a thing she can say about it.”

Yeah, right. There’s nothing she can do about it—but she’ll say freaking plenty.

I take a deep breath and consider my next question. “Okay, so where do I come into this?”

“Well, you’re her chief bridesmaid. You need to plan her bachelorette party.”

Of course I do. How silly of me to forget my last-minute appointment to second-in-command of the bridal party and all of its duties. Never mind that I can barely organize my own life. I don’t even think I know how to use my calendar properly half the time.

“Okay, so, when does this party need to be, exactly?”

“Within two weeks.”

“Mom. Seriously.” I slap my hands against the table and lean forward. “That cannot happen unless she wants a fucking slumber party with popcorn and margaritas. Has Nonna considered that some of us have lives outside of her matchmaking services? I cannot run a business and organize a party that quickly.”

Mom shrugs. “You’ll have to tell her that, honey. I tried, and she told me that, if I were Italian, I’d have better organizational skills, and your father must have been blind when he proposed.”

“You were cooking with store-bought pasta again, weren’t you?”

“I’d just restocked the pantry.” Her eyes sparkle. “One whole shelf. Spaghetti, bow-tie pasta, rotini, fusilli—”

“I get it, I get it.” I press my temples with my fingers, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. Jesus. My family will kill me one day, I’m sure. “What has Amelia said about all of this?”

“Well, Dev said last night that she’s slightly overwhelmed by Nonna.”

“Look at that—she has a trait that fits in perfectly with our family.” I roll my eyes.

Of course she would. Amelia is soft-spoken, gentle, shy, and everything our family is not. I’ve seen her once at family dinner in two months.

“She’s just kind of going with it right now. He said she’s real busy at work and was hoping to set a date this fall for next spring the earliest. Not have it, well, sprung on her.” Mom purses her lips. “Even your father couldn’t talk your grandmother down. She’s itching to get to you.”

“Yeah, well, if she wants to try it, I dare her. I double-dare her.” I stand up straight and pull a water bottle from my fridge. I slam the door shut and perch on the edge of the table, unscrewing the cap. “She may have dipped her fingers into Trent’s wedding pie and be baking Devin’s, but I’m throwing my wedding pie in her face if she tries it. If I ever get engaged, it won’t be for a very long time. In fact, I’m going to wait until I’m thirty just to screw with her.”

Mom’s lips curve into a half smile with a hint of evil amusement. “I fully support your decision to have a long-term, stable relationship before you get married.”

“Only because you know it’ll piss Nonna off.” I swallow a mouthful of water and set the bottle on the table when my phone rings.

“That’s an influencing factor in my decision, yes, but I do want you to be happy. If it happens to annoy her, then that’s a bonus.”

I shake my head but shoot her a fond smile before glancing at my screen. My assistant’s name is written in big, white letters.

“Hey, Grecia. What’s up?”

“Sorry to bother you on your day off,” she says, actually sounding apologetic. “But your brother’s girlfriend is here, and so is Drake.”

Oh, God. That can’t be good.

“Okay. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Tell Drake to go and make coffee or something.”

“He already did it. I think he was in the kitchen before he even said hello to me.”

“Of course he was. See you soon.” I hang up and grab my purse from the counter, where I dumped it an hour ago. “I have to go to work.”

“Client?” Mom questions.

“No. Drake… And Amelia.”

Mom pulls up right behind me, her silver Ford truck outsizing my Audi TT and making it look like a toy car. I should have gone with the client thing. Shouldn’t have told her that Amelia’s here. I should have just said, “Drake,” and been done with it, because obviously, she insisted on coming along.

Amateur move, Noelle.

I grab my purse from the passenger’s seat and slip out of my car. Mom’s already halfway across the parking lot, and damn, I regret slipping heels on now. Yet another amateur move.

This is why I shouldn’t ever take time off, even just mornings. I do silly things. Like bring my mother to work. Technically, though, I didn’t bring her. She followed me and is now…walking through the door. Awesome.

This Sunday sucks ass.

“Mom!” I groan, jogging the last few steps and catching the door before it swings shut in my face. “Mom!”

Grecia points toward the stairs, and I drop my head back. Damn her. To think—she says that Nonna’s impossible.

Dear Mom, your ability to listen is just as nonexistent as hers.

“Mother!” I snap, storming up the stairs after her to, presumably, where Amelia is waiting in my office.

Judging by the question of, “Where’s Noelle?” I guessed right.

“I’m here, I’m here,” I say, stepping through the door.

Amelia is on me quicker than a lioness on a wildebeest. “Noelle!” she cries and grabs my arms, her eyes wide and frantic. “You have to stop her! I’m too young to go down for murder!”

Oh, freakin’ hell. I knew she was too quiet not to have a little freak-out inside her.

“Okay,” I reply softly, “Let’s sit you down. Mom, can you go down and make Amelia a cup of tea?”

Isn’t that what people do when they’re frustrated? I have no idea. My bloodstream is fifty percent caffeine.

“Of course, of course.” Mom bustles off into the hallway.

I take Amelia’s arms and guide her toward the chair.

The first thing everyone should know about Amelia Finlay is that she is the sweetest, quietest, most soft-spoken person in the state of Texas. She’s one of those rare people who struggle to find a bad word about anyone no matter how angry they are, and I think I’ve only ever heard her shout at Devin three times in the five years they’ve been together. She balances him perfectly.

So to see her this rattled? Yeah. I’m afraid to hear what Nonna’s done, because it’s going to be Nonna. Of course it will be. It is always Nonna.

“Right.” I dump my purse on my desk and sit in the tub chair next to her. “What’s up?”

Amelia pushes her honey-blond hair from her face and focuses her large, indigo-blue eyes on me. “God, Noelle. Please tell me there’s a magic spell to call Nonna off. I can’t take much more. She came into work yesterday evening with napkin samples. Into work! I was in the middle of caring for Mr. Hernandez!” She rubs her hand down her face, referring to one of the elderly gentlemen at the care home she works at. “Then, this morning, she showed up at our apartment with photos of wedding dresses she found. I thought she was going to burst a vein when I told her I’d already picked my dress and didn’t have any pictures to show her.”

I raise an eyebrow. Hot damn. “How did you get rid of her?”

“Well, last night, my boss stepped in and said she was stressing out the residents, and today, I, um, called Devin, but he was busy and had to send Drake.”

I bet that went down well. “Sure, he was busy,” I snort. “You didn’t believe that, did you?”

Amelia’s lips tug to one side, and she tucks some hair behind her ear. “Like I believe Silvio when he tells me he didn’t take the warm cookie straight off the tray, despite the chocolate around his mouth.”

“Ah, yeah. He gets that from Dad. And Trent, actually,” I muse, thinking of my adorable four-year-old nephew. “How did Drake get rid of Nonna?”

“He threatened to arrest her for harassment, and I think she told him to stick his handcuffs up his ass, but she said it in Italian, so I’m not sure.”

I grimace. Yep. That’s probably accurate. I bet Drake just laughed, too.

“She did what?” Mom shrieks, knocking the door open farther with her hip, two mugs in her hands. She gives one to Amelia and sips on another. She glances at me. “You’re out of tea, darlin’.”

Whatever. “Um, hello? I like coffee too!” I protest, glancing at her mug then back up at her.

Slowly, a mug is lowered in front of my face from behind, a decidedly male hand wrapped around the handle. I take it and look back with a smile.

“Thank you,” I say happily, my eyes colliding with the icy, blue ones that are rapidly becoming my favorites.

Drake’s lips quirk to one side, and he steps back without a word.

“What do I do, Noelle?” Amelia asks, drawing my attention back to her. “How do I tell her to…stop?”

“Believe me, darlin’. If there were a way to tell her and have her do it, I’d have done it,” Mom snorts. Then she sips her coffee.

Way to be supportive, Mom.

“Thanks for that,” I shoot back to her, glaring, then turn back to Amelia. “Just be honest with Nonna. Tell her it’s too much and that it’s your wedding.”

Amelia sucks her bottom lip into her mouth. “I don’t want to make her mad. She’s kinda…”

“Scary? Freaky? Inhuman?” I offer. What? They’re totally realistic. Anyone who’s seen Nonna angry—and I mean rip-your-hair-out angry—know she morphs into another species entirely. She’s worse than I am.

And that is saying something.

“Noelle,” Mom snaps.

I laugh in response. Her heart isn’t in that at all. It’s that shocked-yet-amused kind of snap you give a two-year-old when they say fuck for the first time—and come on, we’ve all done it.

“Mom,” I say—reasonably, in my opinion, “Nonna is batshit crazy. Don’t sugarcoat it. She’s all love and fuckin’ fairies until you mention the M-word. Well, Dev went and mentioned it—right in front of her, no less—and now, he’s not even growing balls big enough to deal with it.” I smack my lips together and turn to Amelia. “I’ll talk to Nonna.”

Drake snorts.

“Okay, I’ll try to talk to Nonna,” I correct myself. Screw him, the know-it-all. “I’ll ask her to back off a little, just to give you time to breathe.”

“So, like, six months? Minimum?” Amelia asks, her eyes as wide as they were when I stepped into my office fifteen minutes ago. “Because I love Devin. I do. But I am nowhere near ready to jump into a marriage just weeks after he proposed.”

Being a marriage-phobe myself, I can see her resignation.

“Well, that’s kinda down to Devin…” I hesitate. “A little.”

“Oh, God,” she moans, burying her face in her hands. “This is it, isn’t it? I have to get married in three weeks. He’ll never say no to her. I’m not ready for this. Oh my God.”

“You could elope,” Drake offers. Unhelpfully.

Very unhelpfully.

Amelia looks up, whimpers, and her bottom lip quivers when she presses her hands to her cheeks.

Behind me, he shuffles toward to the door, realizing his mistake. I glare at him at the exact moment Mom grabs his arm and yanks him back the few steps he just took.

Nuh-uh. If he wants to date me and be dumb enough to get involved in wedding catastrophes, he gets the crazy side of my family, too. You know, the side that isn’t all me.

“Oh, honey.” Mom rushes past me and crouches in front of Amelia. “Just tell him you aren’t ready. We love you. Take your time!”

“But she won’t understand!” Amelia argues. She brings her hands down just far enough that I can see the tears brimming in the bottom of her eyes. “She’s been doing this since the day after. I love her, but I can’t take any more. It’s driving me insane. I-I don’t even want to marry him. Not if it’s like this.”

Well, now, I want to re-suggest that they could elope, but I’m guessing that still won’t be appropriate.

Hey, way to go, brain-to-mouth filter!

“I’ll talk to her,” I promise her again. “Later. I’ll call her and tell her to stop until my ears bleed from her angry, Italian bitchin’.”

“You will? Really?” One tear drips over her bottom eyelid and disappears down her cheek into her fingertip.

Fuck. “Yeah. She is a little crazy over this whole thing. I think she left her boundaries in Italy.”

“Thank you,” Amelia whispers, wiping at her tears. “Just for trying.”

I lift one shoulder then drop it with resignation. “Don’t worry. I can maybe buy you twenty-four hours of peace, so you tell my damn brother to use his balls and have a goddamn word with her.”

She nods, leaning into Mom when she squeezes her shoulder. “Absolutely. Thank you. Thank you!”

“Like I said, don’t worry.” I set my now-cold coffee on my desk.

Cold coffee. Of course. Obviously. That’s exactly what my morning off needs.

“Come on, darlin’,” Mom says to Amelia, forcing her to stand up. “Let’s go to Rosie’s and get us some pie.”

Mmm, Rosie’s pie.

“Can you send me a cupcake?” I ask hopefully.

Mom scowls at me.

“That’s a no, then,” I mutter, folding my arms across my chest.

Amelia winks over her shoulder as Mom ushers her out.

I grin.

Someone gets me, at least.

“Hot damn,” Drake breathes into the silence. “Is it me or are all the women in your family absolutely fuckin’ mental?”

I spin in my seat, resting one arm over the back of the chair, and raise an eyebrow at him. I don’t care how handsome he is. I’m the only person allowed to call me mental. Everyone else is fair game.

“Excuse me?”

“Except for you,” he amends, grinning in that eye-brightening way that gives me butterflies every time. “You’re a special kind of crazy, and I happen to be real fuckin’ fond of your kinda crazy.”

“But only on days that end in Y, right? Isn’t that what we agreed?”

His laugh is deep and rumbly, and oh God, I hate that damn laugh.

I’m a terrible liar.

“Sure, cupcake. Only on days that end in Y. And guess what? Sunday ends in Y.”

“Ugh,” I groan, dropping my head back dramatically. “Sunday just gets worse, doesn’t it?”

He closes the distance between us in a few short steps. I smile when he grabs the back of the chair and leans down, his hand curling around my waist.

“I can think of several ways to make it better,” Drake says in a low tone. “But they’ll have to wait, because I’m on duty.”

“You’re boring.”

“Responsible,” he replies, dropping his mouth to mine with a smile.

Our lips brush softly, and I say, “If you’re on duty, why are you still here?”

“I need your help.” His mood changes instantly, and the tension in his arm shifts from lover to cop.

“It’s just killing you to say that, isn’t it?” I open my eyes and meet his. He’s still hovering above me, and his lips have thinned into a line. “Admit it. You, the big, bad wolf, hate needing to ask this little piggy for help.”

“Shut it or this wolf is gonna eat you.”

I smack my lips together and look away innocently. “Never really been a threat before.”

He taps the side of my head. “Noelle. Focus.”

“Okay.” I draw the word out and sit up as he walks to the door and closes it. “But you really shouldn’t say ‘eat you’ to me, okay?”

“Noelle.”

“You distracted me!”

“Noelle!” he growls, dropping into the chair opposite me. “Focus. Now!”

“This is my morning off!” I whine. Seeing his unwavering, hard gaze and tight jaw, I push up off the chair. “Fine!” I stomp around my desk and sit in my comfy leather chair, cross my legs, and rest my hands on my desk. “How can I help you, Detective?”

“I swear to God, if you’re fuckin’ with me right now…”

“I’m always fuckin’ with you,” I shoot back. “But if I’m here, on my day off, and you’re being all sweet boyfriend one minute then pain in my fuckin’ ass the next, I’m gonna take a little extra fuck.”

He looks up at the ceiling, and as he covers his eyes with his hand, his lips move. I guess he’s counting to ten. I think that’s his new patience tool to cut down on fights. Wait—yep.

He mouths, “Ten,” drops his hand to his lap, and refocuses his gaze on me. “Calmed down yet?”

Huh. Maybe the countdown is for me.

“I’m still slightly passionate.” I rest my chin in my palm and, tilting my head to the side, offer him my sweetest smile as my nails tap my cheek.

There are two ways to get Drake back on my side: sex and this smile.

“It’s not gonna work, Noelle,” he warns me. The twitch of his lips gives him away.

Seriously, the man is a terrible liar.

I widen my smile in response until it’s almost cheesy.

“Dammit.” The word is muttered as he rubs his hand down his face. “Just once, I’d like to stay mad at you, you know that?”

“Yep.” I fight my laughter. “What do you need me for?”

One dark eyebrow quirks up. “Professionally or personally?”

“I’m on the professional side of my desk…”

He sighs dramatically, and I laugh quietly. He’s the one who insisted we get down to business. Not that business. Although I wish it were that business. That business is way more fun…

“That missing girl… Toni Thompson,” he starts, scratching at the side of the jaw. “We’ve got nothin’. Judge Barnes is on vacation for another two days, which means the only people to sign off on our warrants are the idiots in Austin, and they’re takin’ their sweet-ass time about it.”

“Can’t help you,” I say automatically. “Not my case. Not even close to it. In fact, I seem to remember you telling me to keep my ‘cute button nose’ the hell out of it.”

“C’mon, Noelle. This is a sixteen-year-old girl who’s seemingly dropped off the face of the Earth. The last person to go missing in town was Lincoln Jefferies.”

“Linc didn’t even go missing. He slipped out of the care home, caught the bus to the lake without telling his family, and went fishing for five hours. As I remember, he had a real productive day and sold his catches for a collective eighty bucks.”

Not sure why no one questioned a slightly senile seventy-five-year-old man’s possession of a fishing rod on a bus, mind you.

Drake leans forward, his eyes pleading with me. “Precisely my point. The last time Toni was seen was Friday night leaving Melanie’s store. Her call records show a call to a number we can’t seem to trace, and if you dial hers, it goes straight to voicemail.”

“And you want me to have Carlton check every last number on those records and attempt to trace them.”

“Something like that…”

“Drake. You’re asking me to break the law.”

“No, I’m not. I’m asking you to help. How you do that is up to you, and I don’t wanna know about it.” His eyes sparkle mischievously.

Ugh. It really pisses me off when he pussyfoots around my methods that may or may not walk the tightrope that splits legal searches from illegal ones. The bastard knows exactly what he’s asking me to do.

“Fine, but you have to give him all the records and explain to him what you need. I am not your owl.” I point at him.

“You’ve been watching Harry Potter again, haven’t you?”

“Aria and Silvio made me watch it last night,” I mutter. “It’s not my fault.”

“Sure it isn’t.” He smiles slowly. Sexily.

Damn, I hate that sexy smile.

No, I don’t. One day, I’ll stop lying to myself.

“Dinner tonight?” he asks me, scooting forward on the chair and grabbing the arms.

My lips twist to the side in displeasure. “Will we be interrupted by another phone call from your ex?”

His smile drops. “Noelle…”

“What? It’s a legit question. ’Cause if so, no, we’re not having dinner tonight.”

Just because Holly Woods’ two-week-long Summer Fair starts in three days and Mayor McDougall—who was once again elected after paying his way out of the whole getting-his-daughter’s-dead-best-friend-pregnant fiasco—has assigned his assistant, and Drake’s ex-fiancée, Jessica, to head up the organization, that apparently means she can make as many unannounced calls to Drake, both on the phone and personally, and no one thinks she’s up to anything except her job.

Except me, my best friend, Bekah, and my whole family.

Nonna especially.

I’m not allowed to repeat what Nonna threatened to do to the putana with a wooden spoon and a saucepan. I’d sure pay to watch it though.

Besides, on yesterday, we’d literally just had Chinese delivered when she called. His phone, thankfully. I’d have booted her ass the hell off my property if she’d knocked on my door. To his credit, Drake did try to get rid of her, but she insisted over and over that it was important.

Long story short, his dinner went cold and I decided I was going to bed early and pretended to be asleep when he came up after me.

Honestly, I’d hoped she’d have gotten the message after we went fully public with our relationship. Alas, she still seems determined to find herself looking down the barrel of my gun.

What? I haven’t pulled it on her. Yet. Although it isn’t for a lack of wanting to.

“I’ll turn my phone off.” Drake pushes up off the chair. “And we’ll go to your place. She isn’t stupid enough to go within one hundred yards of your house. She knows you’ll shoot her.”

I glare at him as he walks around my desk toward me. My heart stutters, just a little, as he places his hands on the arms of my leather chair and leans forward. His face is barely an inch from mine, and I have the perfect view as his mouth tugs to once side in a cocky, smug smirk I want to slap right off his face.

“I love it when you get jealous.”

“I am not jealous.”

“You aren’t? Then what’s that little green monster popping up in your eyes?”

I stare at him defiantly. “That’s called nausea, because the thought of her makes me want to vomit.”

“God, you’re charmin’, aren’t you?”

“Only on Sundays, and only after noon and before five. You’re right on time.”

“Smartass.” He drops his lips to mine, and my eyes flutter shut as the warmth of his kiss spreads through me, beating my flash of annoyance down.

“You just keep pointing out my good qualities, don’t you?”

“You and I have different understandings of the word ‘good,’ sweetheart.”

I slap his arm as he stands. He laughs as he makes his way toward the door. Seriously, the man’s gonna drive me to total insanity one day.

“So, dinner?” he asks again, paused by the door.

“Fine,” I sigh. “As long as you tell her before that you can’t deal with her every whim until sometime next year and actually do turn your phone off.”

“Promise.” He winks and walks out of my office.

“Shut the damn door!” I yell.

He takes a few steps back then kicks it shut.

“Bastard!”

His laughter echoes as he walks down the stairs, and even though my lips turn up, I wonder if he will actually tell her to go fuck herself. Insecurity isn’t something I’m used to, as full of myself as that sounds. I’ve never really put myself in a situation where it’s necessary. It’s why I’ve been single for so long—I hate the doubtful whispers in the back of my mind and the constant weight on my shoulders.

It’s the worst feeling in the world, and I think Jessica knows it. Over the last few weeks, she’s made a point of showing up almost every time we’ve been out together. Even in Rosie’s café or just grabbing lunch together. She’s there, constantly, and for all of my confidence and ability to control my emotions, Drake Nash is the one exception to everything for me.

I huff and start up my laptop.

Still want to shoot her ass.