When they turned around the woman was directly behind them.
“Excuse me, but I think you have something that doesn’t belong to you,” she said.
“I don’t think so,” said Lyndon. When he moved to walk past her, she let him go.
Her eyes narrowed at Curtis.
“I—sorry, no,” he said, and tried to inch around her, too.
Her hands were on him then, running over his shirt, fingers pinching and tugging at his collar. Curtis pulled his hands back, coffee splashing out over his sleeve, as he tried to back up away from her. His eyes widened, and he looked to Lyndon as he backed up into the wall.
Lyndon was at a loss. He didn’t want to go over and yank her away, but she was actually unbuttoning Curtis’ shirt now and he could see the panic in the man’s face.
“Where is it?” she hissed.
Lyndon crossed
