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I rub my hands up and down her arms. “I’m sorry, Snow. I need to take care of this. I’ll be back up as soon as I can.” I slide my legs off the bed but am stopped by Amelia, grabbing my arm.
“Sam?”
“I’ll be back up as soon as I can. Stay here.”
I pull on a pair of jeans and a shirt from the closet and grab my Glock from the dresser, checking to ensure the magazine is loaded with one in the chamber. When I turn to check on Amelia, she’s still pale. “Is your gun in the nightstand?”
She nods.
“Good.” I kiss her quickly. “Stay here.”
The house is quiet as I take a calming breath before I open the front door. George Tremblay stands just outside, next to one of my men.
With my gun trained between his eyes, I ask, “What the fuck were you thinking, coming to my house? Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you right here and now.”
I hear the creak of footsteps on the staircase behind me before he answers and know it’s already too late.
