Lindsey held up his hands. "I damn well don't know your moods. Don't care to get to know you well enough to even begin to guess at them," he replied. He was surprisingly pissed, not at Logan, but at himself when the man mentioned torturing Darla and he felt the need to come to her rescue by threatening Logan back.
But he held his tongue. That irritating obsession had been dwindling down for years now and he liked nothing more than to be rid of it completely. She'd never really been interested in him beyond using him just as Wolfram and Hart used her. Just as they'd used him. His hand squeezed into a tight fist and released.
"I don't hold any leashes. If it were up to me, well," Lindsey smirked cruelly, "there wouldn't be a dog left to leash." He heard, just barely, the scuff of a foot on the pavement behind him and spun, stake he'd been carrying ready to be jammed home. Instead, there was a shot and the fledgling vamp toppled to the ground, writhing in agony for a few seconds till it exploded into dust that gently drifted down.
"Damn." Lindsey stepped back to keep the ash from settling on his boots and turned back to find the shooter was a familiar face. He nodded his head to Selene in acknowledgement of her presence.