My head snaps up to a loud crack as the bathroom door bangs open. I try to scramble to my feet as my heart jumps straight up my throat. I barely get the hair out of my face before Jack looms over me, mouth clenched, eyes glaring.
“What in the—” His words trail off as he takes in, what can only be a very pathetic sight, me curled up in a ball in the bathroom, a stupid kitchen knife in my hand. So much for protecting myself.
He towers over me in a plain, white tee shirt, baggy sweats, a gun in his hand, and mutters yet another word I don’t understand.
I’m really going to have to brush up on my Spanish. I glance at the gun. “Whatcha think I was doing in here? Stealing your hair gel?”
He tucks his pistol into his waistband and lifts a shoulder. “I take my hair products very seriously.”
Ok
