“Don’t. Unless you want to lose that,” she says with so much confidence I almost believe she could rip his hand right off without much effort.
Mark’s hand drops as he steps to the side. “I’m sorry,” he says, as if it’s enough to make everything better.
“It’s too late for that, Mark. You violated me. Your brother violated me. I’m a fool for not going to the police, but I want Oliver free and to be done with you forever. And if I hear of you doing this again, I willmake sure you spend the rest of your life as someone else’s bitch. Come on, Lulu.”
My feet start moving as soon as hers do. Mark doesn’t make a move. He stands completely still as his eyes follow our movement until he’s behind us. Zoey strides out of the apartment with her head held just as high as it was when we walked in.
“You were amazing in there,” I say to her. “I’m so proud of you.”
She doesn’t reply as she continues down the path to the driveway and then the short walk to the car. Once we’re inside my SUV, she lets out a long breath. “Fuck. That was…” Suddenly, she starts to hyperventilate and pitches forward, putting her head between her knees.
I reach a hand over, rubbing her back. “You’re okay,” I tell her as I try to console her while she works through all the emotions that I can’t fully comprehend. “You were amazing in there,” I repeat because I don’t think she heard me the first time.
“I was a mess,” she says between rushed breaths.
“I couldn’t tell, and he couldn’t either. You were powerful. If I were him, I would’ve absolutely shat myself.”
She turns her head and peers up at me, raising an eyebrow. “Shat?”
I shrug as I still my hand. “I’ve always liked how that word sounds.”
She bursts into a fit of giggles. “You’re so weird.”
I’m happy my weirdness can change the mood. She can call me whatever she wants as long as she stops freaking out and her breathing returns to normal.
“Ready to go home?” I ask her as I pull my hand away from her and place it on the steering wheel.
“I could use a drink.”
“You come up with the best ideas.” I push the button on the dashboard, firing up the engine.
“After that, I could use a few shots of tequila to settle my nerves.”
“You got it, sis,” I tell her, putting my fancy SUV with so much horsepower we could get there in a few minutes if the speed limit were higher into gear. “Two tequilas coming right up.”
“Three,” she corrects, earning a smile from me.
A half hour later, we slide onto two stools at the bar, ready to drink away the stress.
“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” Brax says as he throws a dish towel over his shoulder. “You two out looking for trouble?”
“Already did it, and now, we need to unwind,” I tell him, drumming my fingernails on the wood.
“Tequila?” he asks, knowing us so damn well, but I wouldn’t expect anything less since we grew up together and caused more trouble than any of us will ever fully admit to anyone outside our circle.
“Bring four shots,” Zoey says before he has a chance to reach for the glasses.
His eyebrows shoot up. “Must’ve been a doozy.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I say to him as he sets four shot glasses on the bar.
“This have to do with Oliver?” Brax stares at me as he grabs the bottle of tequila and starts to pour.
“A little.”
He sucks in air between his teeth. “Shit is messed up.”
“What do you know about it?” Zoey asks our cousin.
