Nightfall (Devil's Night, #4)

by Penelope Douglas

Christiane stepped forward, not taking her eyes off Evans as she walked straight for him, her blond hair—like Rika’s—pulled back in a low ponytail and her frail, quiet form looking too skinny to pick up a peanut. She stopped in front of him, both of them locking eyes, and then . . . she whipped her hand across his face, sending him stumbling to the side. The crew behind them tensed, and I balled my fists, ready. He breathed hard, blinking and looking shocked, and then stood upright again, facing her. She slapped him again, the same cheek, but the only part of him that moved this time was his head twisting to the side. His jaw flexed, and I didn’t even care she wasn’t screaming at him for what he did to her husband and the years of torture since. She hit him again and again, and I almost smiled. He grunted after the fifth one, sucking in angry air through his teeth. “Get the bitch off me,” he finally growled to someone. Martin hurried to grab her, and we stepped forward, but just as Christiane raised her hand to slap him again, Damon shoved Martin back, telling him, “Don’t touch her.”