ethnicity, with dark eyes and hair, and what in any other circumstance would have been a classical sort of beauty that she would have to have been dead not to appreciate.
"I don't know what the hell you did to her to leave those marks, but I feel it's important to point out that she's only eighteen years old. Couldn't you have gotten her out of the room without touching her?" she asked, fighting with the need to yell at both Cyndi and the randy stallion before her. He had to have been a guest at the party for which the band had been brought out at great expense to entertain, but at that moment, Harry couldn't have cared less if he was the owner of this vast palace of sin - she just wanted to get Cyndi out of there without any further drama.
"I - " The man blinked at her, swallowed visibly, and shoved himself away from the wall to take a step forward. "The little bint threw herself at me. She was in my bed, waiting for me. I didn't screw her, if that's what you're all hot and bothered about."
"Bint!" Cyndi roared, and would have lunged at the man but for the sheet in which she was still tangled. "You bastard! I'm not a bint. Terry, what's a bint?"
"I don't care who tried to seduce whom - you should have known she's too young. You're just lucky she's legal. And obviously you were playing a bit too rough if you left those sorts of marks."
"I'm wounded!" Cyndi cried, grasping at that thought. "He hurt me! He's a beastly, horrible man who hurt me and abused me! I think I may faint."
"You're not hurt, you little - " The man wisely bit off the word as Harry frowned. "I didn't hurt her."
"Oh my God, I'm bleeding!" Cyndi cried in a dramatic voice, and clutched at Terry. "I need to go to the hospital!"
"Look, this has gone far enough. I just want you to promise to stay away from Cyndi for the rest of the weekend, OK?" Harry said with an attempt to take control of the situation.
The man scowled at her. "Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? I bet you planned all of this with that little bint, didn't you? What a setup you had, getting your friend there to screw me and then pretend she's been attacked. What's next, blackmail? You can just drop that idea, because there's no way I'm going to fall for your little scheme."
With every word, anger built in Harry. Oh, she knew full well that Cyndi was milking the situation for everything it was worth, just as she knew that Cyndi had pursued him and not vice versa, but his slander left her itching to punch him in the nose. Behind her she heard the whispered hush of the door opening, but she ignored it, saying simply, "Who am I? I'll tell you who I am. I'm your worst nightmare."
"I don't know." He leered in that sloppy way drunks had. "I'm willing to give you a try. Bet you know a few things that your little friend doesn't."
The man reached out and grabbed her breast. Harry saw red again before she knocked his hand away, stomped as hard as she could on his bare foot, swiftly bringing up her knee into his groin, and, when he doubled over with a scream, punched him as hard as she could in the eye. Still doubled over, he snapped his head back, his face frozen in shock and pain for a moment before he fell over backward.
"What the hell is going on here?" a voice roared from behind Harry.
She spun around to behold an absolutely furious man coming toward her. She blinked at the sight of him, amazed for a moment that such a glorious specimen of male beauty existed outside the pages of glossy fashion magazines. He was taller even than the man she'd just knocked out, a good six inches taller than her, with a broad expanse of chest that wasn't at all disguised by a black silk shirt open at the neck, revealing a bronzed stretch of skin that she suddenly wanted to lick. The little indentation where his neck met his collarbone beckoned to her with an unholy fascination, and she stared bemused for a moment, wondering what on earth her mind was doing demanding that she taste this strange - if terribly beautiful - man.
"Who