She looked up at Wauchi but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then his nerves knotted and he began to quake with fear.
Lindsey grabbed him and threw him back against the wall, ripping his shirt open. He was painfully thin, the harp of narrow ribs poking from beneath his skin. She could count them. He made a strangled protest but Lindsey was in no mood to listen. She took a fist-full of his hair in a fist and swung down with the other hand. She caught him across the front of his face and blood burst from his nose. He made ready his escape, but she still had him by the hair. As he tried for the bedroom door, she swung him into the center of the room and placed a knee into his groin. A subtle warning.
“Wauchi,” she seethed, “I want to see your tes
