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Amy couldn't help the chuckles that kept coming as she made her way backstage, the fresh memory of Torrie's embarrassment and humiliation replaying itself in her mind. She was so glad she'd given the bitch what she deserved - once again.

As she turned the corridor to head back to the women's locker room, she ran smack into a very strong, very solid body. As she raised her head, a light-hearted apology bubbling from her lips, her eyes suddenly widened, her smile quickly disappearing...

... It was Matt. And he didn't look at all pleased as he glared down at her.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Amy?!" he shouted into her face, actually spraying her with saliva. Before she could do anything, he reached down and grasped her shoulders hard enough to hurt. Suddenly, she once again became very aware of the fact that she was only clad in a string bikini.

"Let me go!" She grimaced as little sparks of pain shot through her as his vise-like grip. "Leave me alone!"

"You little bitch..." the dark-haired man spat, his brown eyes widening almost maniacally as he began to shake her slightly from side-to-side. It was only at that moment that Amy realized that Torrie was standing just behind her boyfriend, a smug smirk on her face. She was now clad in regular street clothes, and the redhead wondered how she'd gotten dressed that quickly.

Suddenly, Matt turned her forcibly around, holding onto her from behind and somehow keeping her in place.

"Give her your best shot, baby," he said firmly, angrily, as the platinum blonde took a few steps closer.

Amy continued to struggle as Torrie neared her, the smirk actually transforming into a grin. God, she hated this woman. She hated Matt, too, and couldn't believe she'd ever been in a relationship with him. He disgusted her to the utmost. She was prepared to kick out with both legs if necessary, as the tall blonde reached an arm back and struck.

The redhead's cheek stung from the force of the slap, and Torrie quickly did it again. Matt's laughter was nearly deafening in Amy's ear as the pain in her cheek sunk in red-hot.

"Hey! You fucking bastard!"

The shout came from a few feet away, and Amy felt Matt release his hold on her as Adam rushed over. He was a blur of blond and black as he chased the incorrigible couple away.

Matt and Torrie's combined laughter trailed behind them as they retreated down the hall.

"Yeah, you'll be laughing on the other side of your face when I get through with you in our match, Hardy!" the tall Canadian shouted after the other man.

The redhead winced as she shrugged in an attempt to regain the feeling in her shoulders and upper arms. That damn Matt had held onto her so tightly, it was a miracle he hadn't cut off her circulation.

"Are you okay?" Adam's handsome face was a mask of concern as he lowered his hands to her face, palms flat on her cheeks.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Damn it... If I'd gotten here sooner..."

Amy shook her head.

"It's not your fault, Adam... Just go out there in your match later and kick Matt's ass all over the arena, okay?"

"You *know* I will," he said, his voice softening, his gaze following suit as he moved his arms so that they were now around her bare waist. He held her close against him, still sorry he hadn't been there sooner so as to prevent Matt from putting his grubby paws on her, and that bitch Torrie from slapping her lovely face. After a beat, a small smile returned to his face. "I liked what you did to Torrie out there, by the way..."

Amy cocked her head as she gazed up into his face searchingly. That didn't sound too good, that her boyfriend had enjoyed an eyeful of that skank.

"You *did*?"

"Yeah - did you see how humiliated she was? Only one thing, Ames..."

"What's that?"

The blond man visibly shuddered, a sour expression overtaking his features.

"Please don't ever do something like that again - I don't want to be subjected to having to look at *those* ever, ever again..."

The redhead couldn't help but burst into laughter.