“You sounded angry,” Patrick said.
Quinn’s expression took pissed to new heights. “What’s going on?”
“Come with me.” She stomped down the passage, anger and two glasses of wine lending her speed. She flicked on the bedroom light. “Look at that.” Her finger poked bullet holes in the air. “Tell me I don’t have a right to murder him in his bed.”
“Christ Jesus.” Quinn stalked to the bed and shook Dallas with no regard to his injuries.
Patrick strode to the other side and glanced at the stirring bimbo. Laura remained rigid in the doorway.Low down dirty cheating scumbag bastard.
“Dallas, wake up.” Quinn shook him again.
The woman sat up and wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. The sheet dropped to her waist.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Laura muttered, glaring at the woman’s naked torso.
“Youfuckin’idiot,” Quinn said. “Dallas. Wake up, dammit!”
Dallas began to stir. The woman belatedly—for effect, Laura was sure—pulled the sheet up to her chin in an attempt at modesty. Dallas squinted at Laura, a dopey grin spreading across his cheating face. He looked like a small boy with his sleep-mussed hair, but the dark stubble along his jaw line and the hard, bruise-covered chest gave lie to first impressions.
“Oops,”the woman said, fluttering dark eyelashes. “You caught us.”
Dallas’s head snapped to the right, his grogginess falling away. His eyes widened, his expression transforming to horror. “Maria? What the fuck are you doing here?”
