Tied (Tangled, #4)(42)

But it looks as if I’m out of practice. Because before I can stop her, she swipes the phone out of my hand and moves back a few steps.

Anger flashes on my face and in my voice. “Give me back my goddamn phone.”

She smiles. “Come and get it.” She puts my phone down her frigging dress.

You have got to be kidding me. I turn to Matthew. “I don’t suppose you want to help me out with this?”

He looks down at the chips, then back to me. “There’s like a hundred grand here, man.”

Of course there is.

Have you ever seen Flash Gordon? You know that scene where Flash has to put his hand in the rock? The one with the grotesque, prickly snake thing inside it, just waiting to bite him? That’s pretty much what I’m feeling right now.

I crack my knuckles and shake my hands out. “Cover me. I’m going in.” Then I shove my hand down the front of her dress. I limit the physical contact as best I can, but the dress is tight. So upon entry, I immediately realize this chick is sporting a fake set of tits. And a nipple ring.

Don’t judge me. Do I look like I’m enjoying this, for God’s sake?

Psycho Flight Girl, on the other hand, seems to be enjoying it a whole bunch, if her moans are any indication. “Oooh, that’s nice. A little to the left.”

I roll my eyes and try to find a happy place. Then, the most improbable thing happens. Or, an absolute certainty, depending on your point of view.

“What the hell is this?!”

Care to guess whose voice that is?

I don’t even have to turn around, but I do. “Kate!”

I shake my head, trying my damnedest to deny that any of this is happening. “This isn’t . . . I’m not . . .” Yes, my arm is still biceps deep inside this chick’s dress.

I rip it out.

And point at her like an older sister accusing a younger one of wearing her favorite sweater. “She took my phone and won’t give it back.”

Sensing I’m in deep shit, Warren and Jack wander over to watch the show. Matthew just keeps gambling.

Kate struts forward and holds out her hand, simultaneously subjecting the woman to the thousand-watt bitch-glare.

The psycho woman rolls her eyes and takes the phone out of her dress. Kate gets an ever-ready bottle of antibacterial spray out of her purse, squirts the phone with it, wipes it with a tissue, then hands it back to me—spraying my hand for good measure.

After that, all of Kate’s pissed-off radiance turns back to the flight attendant. Her voice is low and deadly serious. “I put up with your shit on the plane because I didn’t want to spend the first hours of my vacation in the custody of federal air marshals. But we’re not on the plane now.” Kate holds up her left hand. “See this ring? It means I belong to him. And the tattoo of my name on his arm means he belongs to me. All of him. His di**ck is a compass, and I’m due north—it only points to me.”

Well, there’s something you don’t hear every day.

“So you are going to disappear, right now. Or I’m going to kick your ass from one end of this casino to the other. And you might want to take a look around—’cause it’s a damn big casino.”

The flight attendant’s eyes narrow into slits. As she replies, her head does that urban-slide thing that looks incredibly f**king stupid but means she’s ready for war. “You think you can take me? You and what army, bitch?”

Erin walks up and stands next to Kate. “This one.”

Psycho laughs—and I kind of don’t blame her. Even in heels, Erin is shorter than Kate by about two inches. Together, they’re not exactly poster girls for intimidation. Until Dee-Dee comes on the scene. And although her physical stature isn’t that different from Erin’s and Kate’s, the disturbed, unbalanced look in her eyes makes up for it in a big way.

I shiver.

Psycho Woman stands her ground, but her expression is a little less sure. Then comes the icing on the cake. Which would be my sister—standing a foot above the other girls like the mighty Amazon she is.

Her smile is downright scary. “The way my hormones are raging, I would like nothing more than to rip out those cheap extensions on your head and nail them to my wall like a hunting trophy.”

Now Psycho actually looks frightened. She glances around, searching for backup. My sister does a head slide of her own. “Don’t look for your friends. They’ve moved on to fatter, stupider targets.”

Delores clenches her fists. “The cheese stands alone.” She sniffs the air. “And it’s stinky. Ever heard of feminine wipes? Might want to invest in some.”

As hilarious and . . . disturbingly sexy . . . as this whole situation is to watch, I don’t want Kate to have to deal with a wack job because of me. She’s had to do that enough already. So I take the path of least resistance and grab a security guard. “We’re guests at the main villa, and this . . . person”—I gesture to Psycho—“is harassing me and my fiancée. I’d like her removed from the premises immediately.”

Psycho Woman doesn’t take it well. “You can’t do that!”

“I’m pretty sure I just did.”



Security Guy checks my hotel key. “Sorry about the trouble, Mr. Evans.” Then he tells her firmly, “You’re going to have to come with me, miss.”