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“You need to step away from him, Brinley.”
My dad turns his attention to Shane, and I notice the gun Scott holds to Shane’s head.
My heart is beating in my throat.
“And you need to leave my daughter the hell alone. If you let her leave with us peacefully, there won’t be any problems. But if you make one move to stop her, they’ll be carrying you in a body bag out of this hotel.”
Shane doesn’t bother to even cast a glance my father’s direction, his stare locked squarely on Scott. Every muscle in his body is pulled taut, his desire to hurt Scott as dangerous as the gun pointed at his head.
Everything is moving too fast, my mind unable to catch up to, or comprehend, the turn of events.
“Dad?”
I barely get the word out on a whisper.
My father’s eyes shift back to me.
“Step around him, Brinley, and come with me. I won’t allow this murderer to threaten you any longer.
Shane’s body tenses more, his attention slowly shifting to my father. He doesn’t say a word in denial or argument.
But if looks alone could kill…
“Murderer? What are you talking about? Shane hasn’t murdered anybody. He’s trying to help us—”
“Don’t let him lie to you, baby girl. Don’t believe one word out of his mouth. I know exactly who this bastard is.”
Dad’s eyes lock with Shane’s.
“Guess you didn’t tell her about how you killed John Bailey, did you?”
My heart stops beating for a brief moment.
This can’t be true.
Dad smiles at Shane like he’s landed the finishing blow.
“Heard you all have Luca believing your shit too. Wonder what she’ll think when she finds out you’re the reason her dad is dead.”
Dad’s not finished.
There’s one more blow coming.
“Hell,” Dad drawls, the Southern lilt of his voice so thick that it reminds you of suffocating humidity in the shade of a wraparound porch, the wide-paddled ceiling fans barely able to cut through it.
“For that matter, how do you think Brinley’s gonna like you after I tell her your fathers are the reason she lost her mother when she was twelve.”
My heart dives directly into my feet.
Shane
I’m standing on the tarmac, waiting for Damon to come down the steps from Gabe’s plane, intense southern sunlight beaming down on my head, its heat incapable of matching mine.
After Brinley was taken from me, I’m not just hot, I’m on fucking fire.
The straps of three duffel bags are gripped in Damon’s hand, his gaze seeking mine as soon as he ducks to step out of the plane, his hair caught by a gust of wind that whips past us both.
Steps quick and sure, he keeps me in his sight as he descends the stairs, Ames following closely behind him.
