Page 51 of Personal Disaster

The asshole’s grip tightens.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He sneers as he jabs his other hand out, grabbing my hip. I can smell sweat on his skin, see the pores on his face, and the hard, sharp anger in hiseyes.

He’s pissed at me. He doesn’t even know me, but it doesn’t matter.

I represent all that’s wrong in his world, and he’s going to take it out on me. His grip tightens and I cry out despite myself. It really hurts. But as I buckle inward, I realize he’s left his body wideopen.

On pure adrenaline, I jerk my knee up, making contact with his groin. At his startled, wincing gasp, I jerk my hands together and drive them up his body, slamming the heels of my hands into the underside of hisjaw.

He staggers back, and I do the same, slamming into one of my colleagues in the press.

“Sorry, sorry,” I gasp, twisting around. Shit, James is on the ground.

He waves his hand. “I’m fine. Are youokay?”

I nod roughly as he hops back up. “Sure. My wrist hurts.” I rub at the reddened skin there and wince as I hit a tender spot. I turn to glare at the neo-Nazi as he’s being hauled off the ground by security.

“Poppy, what did he say toyou?”

I turn around and am blinded by a camera’s light. “He called me Lügenpresse,” I say, finding my voice. “That was it. I asked him how he was enjoying the debate, and then he grabbed me. It’sover.”

“Will you press charges?”

Jesus Christ. We’re vultures, even when it’s one of our own. I give the guy asking the questions—a local CBS affiliate reporter, not someone from the national circuit—a faint smile. “I was assaulted while doing my job. Whether or not that was criminal is a question for the local police.” I hold up my wrist and wriggle it. “I’m not injured. Just shaken up. I’m fine. Has anyone seen my phone?”

A security guard tries to stop me as I duck under the rope barrier.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for my phone.”

“Ma’am, you’ll need to stay where you are until the police gethere.”

“Why? Did I do anything wrong? I was just protecting myself and now I can’tfind—”

“Your phone. Yes, ma’am, I understand. However—”

I suck in a frustrated breath. Okay. Fine. This is why I use that bluetooth device. “Gotcha. I’ll just wait right here while people trample all over my phone.”

He gives me a sympathetic look, and after I return to the press side of the barrier, he looks around, but my phone isgone.

* * *

The police arrivea few minutes later, and I’m taken to a room elsewhere in the arena to give a statement. They offer to take me to the hospital, but I really amfine.

We’re almost done when there’s a loud banging on thedoor.

I jump. Okay, maybe I’m not completelyfine.

One of the officers opens the door, and as soon as I hear the concerned voice on the other side, I stand up. “That’s my boyfriend,” I say. “Let himin.”

“We have a few more questions.”

“He wasn’t here before, and—” Marcus shoves the door open, and I shrug. “He’s not going to take no for an answer, so…”

“Excuse me, sir, you’ll need to wait outside.”

Marcus shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not going to work for me. Why wasn’t there a police presence near the press area? Why was there only a single rope barrier? You go and get your supervisor. Tell him I have some serious questions for him, and if he doesn’t want to answer to me, he’ll be answering to the governor within thehour.”

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