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A part of me is still waiting for him to tell me I’m wrong. That there’s some other explanation. That I can trust them after all.
That I mean something to him.
But of course, he doesn’t.
I don’t dare blink as I steady the gun with both hands and keep it pointed at his face, slowly sitting up, then getting to my feet.
“What do you want with my sister?” I demand.
“That doesn’t concern you,” he murmurs, his face completely shuttered now. “And I never lied.”
“Thefuckyou didn’t,” I hiss. My hands shake before I steady them again. “I need to know what this is about. Why do you want her? Tell me!”
“That wasn’t part of the deal,” Maddoc says flatly. “We did what you asked. We got her away from McKenna. We never discussed what would happen after that.”
His words twist in my chest like a knife, the sharp pain making it hard to breathe. I knew he could be cold and calculating, but hearing him speak so callously of the bargain we made breaks something inside me.
Maddoc slowly rises to his feet, his hands at his side as his gaze locks with mine. I know he’ll try to get the gun again, that he’s probably already looking for an opening or a weakness in my stance. I know he’s used to winning, and that he built his gang up into the force that it is because he’ll do whatever it takes to survive.
But so will I.
I shove aside the painful, chaotic mess of emotions in my chest and raise the gun. I know by now that the man in front of me doesn’t have a heart, but I aim the barrel where one should be.
“You’re right,” I say calmly, my hands completely steady this time. “None of that was part of the deal. And neither was this.”
Then I squeeze the trigger.
The big gun jerks in my hands, the sound of the shot ringing out like deafening thunder. The kickback catches me off guard, making my wrists burn, and the moment of calm, deadly focus I felt a moment ago goes up in smoke as Maddoc’s body jerks from the impact, his blood spraying out in a vivid red arc.
It’s the middle of the night. Nothing should look that bright in such dim lighting, but it does.
He staggers backward, cursing.
Cursing andbleeding.
That sight does something to me, and a flurry of emotions I can’t even name well up inside me, hot and fast. My chest is so tight I can barely breathe, and I try to steady the gun again as the shakes set in.
Maddoc’s face contorts with pain as he stumbles and crashes into the island in the middle of the kitchen.The bullet struck him, but it went wide, hitting his shoulder instead of his heart. He’s hurt, but he’s not down.
I’m breathing in harsh, uncontrolled pants as I take aim again. I have to end this.
But my ears are still ringing, and my hands almost feel numb from the force of the first shot. I can’t seem to steady them this time, no matter how hard I fucking try.
“Dammit,” I pant, raising my arms and locking out my elbows.
Maddoc grunts and slaps a hand over the bullet wound, his knuckles turning white where he clutches his shoulder. Then he looks up, meeting my eyes.
His dark brown hair is sex-mussed and tangled, and a huge black tattoo covers his bare chest. One that looks fucking ominous covered in all the blood splatter, like a sinister omen that I’ll never win.
Fuck that.
I glare at him, and in the space between one breath and the next, his pained grimace smooths out, returning to the same calm, unreadable expression he wore when I first walked into Clancy’s and asked him to help me get Chloe back.
Like we’re strangers.
Like he hasn’t been lying to me this whole time.
Like we’re not both still naked, with his cum running down my thighs.
