Another tug on my ponytail, but this time he pulled it all the way back so I was looking at him upside down. His eyes narrowed. “I’m beginning to wonder if this Sweet Abelli even exists.” I swallowed. “You shot my brother.” Was his fist . . .? It was wrapping around my ponytail. Once. Twice. His gaze flicked to the TV. “He deserved worse.”
