Laura jerked free from her brother and spun back. "What in the hell?"
A second swing of the umbrella knocked her off her feet. She hit the floor with a cry, skidding through the doorway into the next room. Warren waved the broken umbrella menacingly, then threw it aside with a snarl and lunged for the book in Belle's hands. "I don't know where the hell you came from, but you better give me that."
She deftly hopped aside, the volume held above her head like a game of keep-away. "I don't think so, buddy."
Fallon hesitated between helping Belle or his sister, finally settling on the latter. He plunged through the doorway to find her seated on the floor. Her hands covered her nose, trying to stem the flow of crimson that ran between her fingers onto her dress. The sobs that shook her shoulders only added to the picture of misery.
The TV was still playing a late night talk show, but the couch was empty. Teresa had hightailed it. Not that Fallon blamed her.