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Grace Under Fire (Buchanan-Renard 14)

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“No.”

“You’ve got a bandage on your upper arm,” he pointed out.

“Oh, that.” She had forgotten it was there.

The body language between Michael and Isabel was amusing Dylan. Michael was glaring at Isabel, but it was wasted effort since she wouldn’t look at him. “Yes, ‘oh, that,’ ” he replied. “What happened?”

“I got shot.”

“You what?” Kate exclaimed.

Isabel let out a loud sigh. Here we go again, she thought.

“Oh my God,” Kate whispered.

“Do you have stitches?” Kate asked, alarmed.

“Yes,” she replied. “Five or six stitches, I think. Nothing to be concerned about.”

“Why didn’t you answer any of our phone calls or our texts?”

Isabel knew that look. Kate was getting angry. “I didn’t want to worry you. Besides, there wasn’t anything you could do. I sent the video, and I think that said it all.”

Dylan put his arm around Kate but kept his attention on Isabel. “Okay,” he agreed. “Anything else new?”

“Yes.”

Because she was smiling so sweetly, Dylan was unprepared for what she said.

“Your brother is a mean, pompous, egotistical jerk.”

Kate was shocked. Her sister always took politeness to the limit, no matter what the circumstances were. She was kind and considerate of others’ feelings, so to hear her say anything critical about Dylan’s brother was shocking.

“Isabel, you shouldn’t criticize—”

Isabel shot a warning look at her sister. “Don’t defend him, Kate. You weren’t in the car. You didn’t hear the gross profanities he was shouting at me.”

“Isabel.” Michael said her name in a smooth, even voice. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you. I’m sorry about that.”

She was so surprised by his apology she didn’t know what to say. She was also suspicious. “You’re sorry?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then.” She still didn’t believe him but decided not to make an issue out of it.

“I would like to mention a couple of things,” Michael said. His voice was mild now, almost pleasant.

“I’m listening.”

He took another drink of water. “The speed limit here isn’t a suggestion. If the sign posted is forty-five miles per hour, you shouldn’t double it.”

“I don’t think I—”

He put his hand up to stop her. “Another thing I’d like to mention. We drive on the right side of the road here.”

Isabel’s face was turning pink, and Michael’s voice was getting grittier.

“Anything else?”



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