“No, they’re thieves.” He was shouting, and Rinn wanted to cover her ears, the noise was so shrill. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on. We all heard what’s happening here. We all know you’re harboring an actual criminal.”

Jo took a deep breath, like she had learned to center herself with one of those meditation apps. Rinn had always found those apps to be pretty helpful, truth be told.

“That employee is my responsibility to deal with. As is the fact that an author has come into my store and started assaulting the young female employees in my care. And considering that the first headshot that you sent into the store was you, shirtless, eating spaghetti that was getting into your chest hair, I’m having a real hard time believing you at all.” Jo set her hands on her desk so that her hands were in a wide V across the space—she was in charge here, and she wouldn’t let anyone take that from her.

“I did not assault anyone.” Brock really was purple now.

Maya gave up, dropped all the books in her hands onto the floor, and put her hand in her face. “Jesus, Brock, not again. I can’t with you. I really can’t. I can’t keep sweeping this kind of behavior under the rug.”

This time, Harvey didn’t have words. He lunged for Maya.

And without even thinking, without even hesitating, Jo grabbed Harvey and punched him right across the jaw. “Get. Out. Of. My. Store.”

Harvey grabbed his jaw, howling. “I will be pressing charges. Don’t think I won’t.”

Jo kept her chin ducked down, still ready for a fight, still on her feet as if she had to throw another punch. “You do that. But remember it’s your word against mine. And I’ve got witnesses.”

“So do I,” said Harvey.

“No, you don’t,” said Maya quietly. “I quit.”

“But she punched me in the jaw—I have evidence. And that little bitch stepped on me.”

Jo shrugged. Her knuckles looked red, but she didn’t flinch, and she didn’t flex out her hand. She looked Harvey dead in the eye. “Chicago’s a rough town, ace. Anybody could have done that to you. Doesn’t mean it was me.”

“You’re a rotten crowd,” he shouted one last time. “I’m worth the whole damn bunch put together. You’re all a bunch of phonies.”

And then—unable to even come up with an original parting shot—with a flap of his elbow-patches sports coat and still clutching his wounded jaw, Brock Harvey fled Wild Nights Bookstore and Emporium.

24

Folded in Each Other’s Wings

4:01 P.M.

Imogen

Jo sat on the edge of her desk, holding her hand like it was a baby bird. There was a little bit of stunned awe in her voice as she spoke. “Never hit someone bare-knuckled before.”