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here." He pointed to Abby. "But I wasn't invited. Dixie either. My beautiful sister isn't alive anymore, thanks to her loving husband." He glared at Mike, who had risen to stand. Then, surprisingly fast, he dashed toward Mike. |
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Philip had told Abby earlier that Mike should be shot. "Be careful, "she cried. "He might have a gun." |
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"Wish I did," he muttered. He took a swing at Mike. |
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Mike blocked the punch effortlessly. "You were right, Philip. You weren't invited. And you're drunk." He pulled Philip toward an empty chair and thrust him into it. "Sit down and sober up." The glance he shot at Abby looked almost accusatory, and she cringed. Surely she was mistaken. Why would he direct his anger toward her? |
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"I'll just bet you'd rather I get in my car and head down that hill, wouldn't you?" Philip continued in his slushy voice. "Especially at a certain little curve." |
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Abby caught an undercurrent she did not understand from Lowell, Ruth, and Hannah, who all glanced at one another, then at Mike, who towered over the seated man. His hands were clenched at his sides. "You're a bastard, Rousseau," he growled. |
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Philip's grin was ugly. "And you're a murderer!" |
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Ruth hurried to Mike's side, placing a restraining hand on his arm. Looking down at the seated man, she said sharply, "That's enough, Philip." |
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