“I'm going to kill him!” Morris’s voice reverberated off the walls of the tattoo shop, a low growl following the words. It barely sounded human.
Mirabelle watched her from the corner of the couch where she had curled up, tucked her legs against her chest, and refused to move. Her head throbbed in rhythm to Morris’s agitated steps.
It was like watching a caged angry Tiger prowl the length of the tattoo shop searching for an outlet. But there was none. Tense fingers drummed against his thighs before curling into fists, only for him to flex them loose again. The pattern repeated with every round he made and just watching him made Mirabelle’s headache flare up.
She couldn’t blame him for his furious state, though. What had happened had brought some hard facts right to their doorstep. Any i
