Instinctively he grasped her and held her tightly against him.
"Go ahead—hurt me. You can. You're very strong."
"Who's taking pot shots at me?"
She jerked away from him violently.
"It's none of your darn business. You deserve to be shot. You're a tin horn sport, running away from a real job to get your wings covered with star dust."
She backed away from him, holding her wrist, her eyes blazing.
She reached the door and opened it quickly.