Joanne didn't bother to stand. Fluffy lay curled at her feet, unmoving, as if the dog drew comfort from her stillness.
The thudding on the door continued, each pound a fresh ache in her already throbbing head.
With the chain still latched, she opened it just a crack.
Sam stood on the porch, scowling. "What's with this?"
Of course. No "How are you?" No glance at the thick bandage wrapping her head. Not even a flicker of concern.
Then again, unless he'd been living under a rock... or more likely, in some cracked-out corner of one, he would've known about her attack.
"What do you want, Sam?" Joanne asked flatly, every word edged with the urge to send him away. She didn't want him here. Not now. Not when Jeffrey could walk in any minute.
The last time, Jeffrey had wanted to kill Sam for less.
This time, he might actually do it.
