It was the relief, the treacherous wave of relief, that hit first. The dread, the self-hate, the horror, all that would follow, but not now, not yet, although it churned like flotsam and when the wave broke, she would have to deal with the wreckage. She stared from the card to Ricky and was overwhelmed with the mad desire to kiss his crooked smile, kiss him hard on the lips, break his teeth, rip his tongue out, smash his cocky face in.
