Malcolm glared at him, then dropped his gaze. All the fight leached out of him. “Ask Margo. Your granddaughter is a lunatic. An impulsive, dangerous lunatic. Worse than you, damn your eyes. And a goddamned, bloody liar-little bitch just turned seventeen, goddammit, not nineteen. Now get out and let me get soused.”
Seventeen? Margo was only seventeen’ Kit saw several shades of red. I’ll kill her, I swear to God, I’ll teach that girl if it’s the last thing I ever do not to lie to people who trust her.
Malcolm was in the act of slamming the door when Kit caught it in one hand. “I, uh, owe you some money.”
Malcolm’s bitter laughter shocked Kit speechless. “Keep it I sure as hell didn’t earn it.”
The door slammed shut.
Kit stared at the reverberating panel. All right… He stalked down to the Commons on a hunt for his errant granddaughter. He found her at Goldie Morran’s, exchanging her down-time currency for modern scrip. Goldie glanced up and smiled. The smile froze in place. Margo swung around and lost color.
Kit was out of patience. He backed Margo into a corner so she couldn’t bolt and run. “just what the hell happened down time, young lady?”
”Nothing! I did fine! It’s not my fault Malcolms an overbearing, overprotective, chauvinistic…”
She ranted on at length.
Kit finally figured it out.
”You left the tour?” he asked quietly, hardly able to believe his ears.
”Yes, I did! And I did fine! I’m in one piece, aren’t I? I’m sick of being coddled, roped in, restricted, dammit, I proved I can handle myself this trip! I want a real scouting job!”