Chapter Three
Sam is studying me. The pink tip of her tongue wets her lips, not furtively, the way it would if she were nervous. It’s more of a sensual thing. She is looking at me the way she should be looking at her bowl of sherbet. There should have been a warning posted on the door: “Trespassers will be violated.”
Sam asks: “Does she have any weapons?”
“I haven’t asked,” says Tabitha. They are still talking about me as though I’m not there.
Sam nods in my direction. “Take off your jacket.”
It’s a small thing she’s asking for, but I don’t like taking orders. I peel off my jacket and throw it at Sam’s face. The barrel of the shotgun rises a little, and I fear for a second that Tabitha thinks I’m using the jacket to distract them while I charge for the door. Sam is calmer. She snags
