Page 33 of Violent Little Thing

The Cowgirls had won their championship game, and one would think that things would be great.

They weren’t.

Because, though the Cowgirls had won their championship, Seraphina had moved her attention from the Cowgirls to the Condors.

And, like the last time she’d killed someone, she went on about her day-to-day life and acted like there wasn’t a single thing wrong.

As if the day was just another day for her.

My first order of business upon making that promise to myself was to find the cop that had let her go—probably because he only saw a great set of paid-for tits—and get him fired.

He wouldn’t work in the state of Montana again if I could help it.

I’d pulled every favor that I’d had to get to get him removed from the department—because his actions had caused the death of a could-be friend.

My next order of business was getting her membership to the country club revoked.

That was where I was headed now, determination in my every step.

“Where are you going?” Court asked. “Can I go with you?”

I looked at Court, dressed in his super-fancy slacks and his pressed black dress shirt and said, “Don’t you have work to do?”

I’d cleared my schedule for two hours in preparation for this.

Court, however, had not.

I’d taken over his day-to-day schedule.

I planned when he ate. When he slept. When he needed to be where. Who he had to talk to.

I did everything that I used to do for Chris and more, though Court didn’t give me the ick.

Not even a little bit.

The man was stoic, argumentative, and had gone toe-to-toe with Seraphina on so many occasions that I was surprised she was still standing.

If anyone was able to handle Seraphina, it was Court.

Funny enough, once she saw that she wasn’t going to be able to run all over Court, she’d started to flirt.

Just yesterday, he told her to put her tits away and never show them to him again or she was going to get a sexual harassment suit filed against her.

Seraphina had been stunned that her tits hadn’t bought his favor.

It was the highlight of my day to watch her walk away with her tail tucked between her legs.

Speaking of the crazy bitch, she walked in with her boobs covered for once, but still in a skirt that left nothing to the imagination and the top was so tight that I could see her stupid abs through the fabric.

My left eye twitched as she sauntered up, hips swaying.

As she took the last step, I saw a hint of lace at her upper thigh, letting me know that she was wearing stockings.

Gross.

“How’s Chris?” I asked sweetly, batting my eyes at her.

Seraphina acted like I didn’t speak to her at all.