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The doorknob on that door creaks and I look at Terror in horror.
He jumps to his feet, taking his gun out from the nightstand next to us. “Go into the bathroom and lock the door. Do not open it, no matter what you hear,” he demands, and his sharp tone has me running to the bathroom.
I snagged a shirt on the way to the bathroom, so I have something to at least put on me if someone is actually trying to break in.
I lock the door and back away from it, moving to stand at the wall, and slip the shirt on with shaking hands.
* * *
Terror
* * *
I hear the lock engage in the bathroom, then stand in front of her bedroom door and wait.
The sound of the knob turning down below, along with the creak of the door opening, has my heart pounding. Who the fuck would dare try to break in on my woman?
I’m shaking.
I grow more pissed with every step they make on the stairs; they aren’t even trying to be quiet at this point.
I lift my gun, readying myself to blow their fucking brains out. The doorknob to her apartment twists and it's pushed open. The light from the bedside lamp that I turned on illuminates his face.
His face shows his shock seeing me standing there, and what do I do? “Wrong fucking place to break into,” I tell him, pulling the trigger shooting him straight in his knee.
He screams, falling to the ground hard rolling onto his back and his hands are on his knees where the bullet is lodged.
“Who the fuck are you?”
I’m more shocked that it's not Seth than this random fucker. “I’m here to see Meghan,” he screams out and the bathroom door opens.
I glare at her not liking that she didn’t obey me. She looks to me and then to the ground. “Lyle?” she gasps in shock, her face paling.
I don’t like that one fucking bit.
I keep my gun pointing down at him. “Who the fuck is this fucker? And why does he think he can just break into your apartment?”
She grabs the back of the chair, like she is trying to hold herself up. She shakes her head, looking at the guy on the ground. “We were in foster care together years ago...” she says, but I can tell there is something she isn’t telling me.
She looks really uncomfortable, and it pisses me off because this was a good night, an important night for her.
This fucker decided to ruin it.
I kick his shoulder. “Why the fuck are you breaking in in the middle of the night?” I ask him.
He is busy crying, clutching his knee. “If you were man enough to fucking break into my woman’s apartment in the middle of the night, you are man enough to fucking get your shit together.”
I grab him by the hair, twisting and lifting him until he is leaning against the wall. I sense her before she touches me. Her front is pressed against my back, her little hand trembling, gripping the back of my arm.
This person is not someone she wants to see.
He looks at her and she flinches. I pull her behind me and out of his eyesight. “I’m her foster brother.”
She rests her forehead on my back. “He used to be my foster brother; he’s the reason I left New York.”
I stiffen at her words.
“What did you do to her?” I ask him, my hands shaking from how pissed off I am.
