–Deanne–
I swear, I want to kill this man for making us all anxious. He just slid the glass door open like it was no big deal and waved at me. Waved. Like some cute neighbor, not the bastard who had us scouring the seas for his body.
I sneered, my eyes dropping to the other part of him that was… well, let's just say it was already standing at attention. I sighed, rolled my eyes, and forced myself to calm down. Then, like the responsible woman I occasionally pretend to be, I left the bathroom with my gun still in hand.
Closing the door behind me, I reached for my phone and dialed Livana. Of course, that woman's line was busy. Figures. So I called Damon. He answered after the first ring, no greetings, no manners. Typical.
"Deanne. Did something happen?"
"Is Livana still on her phone?"
"Yes."
"I need to speak to her. Now."
"Sure."
A moment later, her voice came through, light and curious.
"Deanne?"
