Page 87 of Dirty Dancer

So the fourth time she showed up, I knew it wasn’t going to go well. I wanted to tell her to get out, take off, just run for it. But—well, no matter how hard I bang anything or I’m banged, fuck if I can say anything.

So imagine my surprise when she wrapped that silken hand around my handle, jerked me off the desk, and swung me like a mace.

Talk about a life-changing experience. Literal. Life. Changing. Experience.

I wasn’t a stapler.

I was a wrecking ball.

The delicious crunching of bone was the best fucking sound ever.

Course, it was over in a blink and I didn’t have words for what happened. Like, had we really just done that? Was I an accessory? Or like—the actual accessory?

Fuck my life I was going to be stuck in some evidence locker forever. Don’t get me wrong, definite step up from this gig and probably a lot cleaner, but…

Oh, dude, she was taking me with her.

Yep. Cool.

So, while I might be an accessory, I was going to be her accessory. I liked that.

Thankfully, she did give me a bath or maybe it was one of the others. Bits of flesh and brain weren’t good for the hardware.

My new lodgings involve a quiet room and a companion. Not that he says much, he just hangs out on the bed and stares at the wall like it’s a damn masterpiece.

Course, he’s a raggedy looking fellow, his fur kind of roughed down and his eyes a little mismatched.

Right, I got pet, but I didn’t get banged or have to bang anything. I was still fully loaded though. So, watch your step.

ahem

Watch your staplers, too.

We are legion after all.

wink

FLUMADIDDLED (BONUS POV)

FREDDIE

noun

or less commonlyflum·a·did·dle\ ¦fl?m?¦did?l \orflum·did·dle\ - m¦- \orflum·mer·did·dle\ - m?(r)¦- \orflum·my·did·dle\ - me¦- \orfum·a·did·dle\ ¦f?m?¦- \

inflected form(s): plural-s

1:something foolish or worthless:nonsense, trash

2:bauble, frill

Hitting the counselor had been really fucking therapeutic. My knuckles stung a little, but I’d barely broken any skin. Lamer than the therapy session, had been his glass fucking jaw. One solid pop and he went down like a popped balloon.

Kind of made me wish the guys had been here for this. Liam and Vaughn would have appreciated the art. Jasper would have rolled his eyes, but fuck knew, he’d have approved. They’d only been trying to teach me to use my fists rather than a knife for a decade.

To be perfectly fair, if I’d had my knife, the guy would not be waking up. He hadn’t pissed me off that bad.

At least not yet.

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