CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
IT WAS A FACE-OFF WORTHY of a hockey rink. Looking at the fire flashing in Fabiana’s eyes, Warwicke couldn’t help wishing he had a helmet and some serious padding, maybe even a hockey stick, in case she grabbed that lamp next to her and started swinging it at his head.
He was pretty sure she’d considered it.
“You’re not coming.”
Warwicke crossed his arms over his chest. He knew it made him look stubborn but he didn’t care. On this subject he was planning on being stubborn. She was not going into Vespard’s by herself. “There’s nothing you can say that will keep me away.”
“You’re not riding with me.”
Warwicke fought a grin. Fortunately he’d had the foresight to call Heathcliffe and have him bring a bike over. “I can get there under my own steam, no problem.”
She na
