Wynter: Stop fucking ignoring me!!!!!
I stare at the screen. Dale leans over, spots the message, and lets out a bark of laughter.
“Oh, I like drunk Wynter.”
The car rolls to a stop. I’m out before the engine fully dies and already dialling her number.
She answers on the third ring.
“Hold on, I can’t hear a thing!” Music blasts down the line, followed by a muffling. A few seconds later, it goes quieter. “There,” she says. “What?”
I lower my voice, but only just. “I gave you my number for emergencies involving Anika,” I hiss. “Not so you could send me abusive messages.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then, “That is hardly abuse, Ray. Calm down.”
I stop dead beside the car. Slowly, I lower the phone from my ear just enough to stare at it in disbelief. Then I lift it back.
“What did you just say?”
“It wouldn’t kill you to relax once in a while,” she says, her words just slightly too loose around the edges. “Honestly, you’re so . . . tightly wound.”
Behind me, Dale folds his arms over the roof of the car, openly eavesdropping now, grinning like the prick he is.
I turn away from him.
“It is not acceptable to speak to me like that.”
“Oh, please,” she says. “You tell everyone off for swearing like you’re headmaster of some terrifying little school, but Sebastian isn’t even there and he definitely isn’t reading my texts. Unlike you, apparently, because your phone is basically glued to your hand.”
My jaw tightens. “Are you drunk?”
She scoffs. “Isn’t that why you sent Holly out with me? Shopping, lunch, cocktails. Very subtle, by the way.”
Christ. I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Unless that Champagne cocktail was secretly apple juice,” she adds with a giggle.
Dale actually snorts. I shoot him a murderous look, but he only grins wider.
“I’m busy,” I snap into the phone. “Do not text me again.”
Then I hang up. For a second, I just stand there, phone still in my hand, jaw clenched.
Dale pushes off the car, still smirking.
“She told you to calm down?”
“Shut up.”
“She called you tightly wound?”
“Dale.”
“She’s not wrong, to be fair.”
I turn and start walking. Because if I stay where I am for one more second, I might kill him before we even get to Booth.
He falls into step beside me, stuffing his hands into his pockets like we’re out for a casual stroll instead of heading to crack skulls.