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“Search him, Roman.”
The man with the green dragon tattoo climbing up the side of his neck who had unsuccessfully lunged for him after he’d thrown the first flash grenade in The Outlaw patted him down none too gently.
“I remember you.” Brendan shot him a sly smirk. “Strong but not so fast, aren’t you?”
Roman pulled the Glock out of Brendan’s pocket and whacked him on the back of the head with it. A searing pain erupted in his scalp and rippled down his neck.
“Probably better, office freak, if you don’t goad a stronger man. Try moving past me now with that splitting headache.” Roman gripped his shoulder and shoved him forward. “He’s clean now, boss. A gun, nothing else.”
Marshal snorted out a laugh. “A gun he’s probably got no clue how to use. Ever kill someone before, King?”
Brendan clenched his teeth, pushing the pulsating pain out of his mind. “Not yet, Marshal. Not really my style, but for you, I might make an exception.”
“Sadly for you, I think the vultures are going to dig you out of the sand instead. You should have stuck with the court case, though I’d have killed you anyway.” Marshal shrugged. “But at least you wouldn’t have seen it coming.”
Marshal’s men opened the French doors like the man was royalty, and Marshal waltzed inside. If Brendan’s life wasn’t on the line, he would have found the charade comical. Roman gripped him under his arm and tugged him roughly behind. A blast of air conditioning hit him before he quickly scanned the expansive room, looking for one person and one person only.
Genevieve! She stood near an interior corner of the room in her blue blouse and jeans, looking tussled, exhausted, and absolutely beautiful. Her gaze connected with his, and relief flitted across her face, followed by unfiltered fear. She quickly tore her eyes away from him, glanced at Marshal, and pulled her bottom lip into her mouth with her teeth, nibbling like she wished a plan would materialize in her brain.
“Is there a problem, dove? You look worried.”
The bastard was really going to make her pretend like she didn’t care about him? Good luck! Her eyes said it all when she looked at him—he’d been right about that. Marshal grinned as if he were enjoying the game, but Brendan suspected deep-rooted jealousy was the driving force behind his provocation.
Time to focus. Brendan took in a calibrating breath and analyzed the other players in the room. Two guards stood within easy reach of him while Archer and a built-looking man covered in fantasy tattoos stood on either side of Genevieve. Marshal had Roman and Luke flanking him, and the rest of his entourage was scattered about the room. Naturally, Marshal was a heck of a lot closer to him than Genevieve, which didn’t help him with his only plan—grab Genevieve, duck, and run for cover.
Genevieve swallowed hard. “No, Jed. There’s no problem.” Her eyes flashed down to Brendan’s waist.
Don’t worry, Gen. I know our chances aren’t good, but I won’t go down without a fight.
“If you’re hoping he’s got a belt load of flash grenades again, dove, you can lose hope. Roman searched him, and he’s clean. What you see is what you get. A man who’s so desperate that he didn’t come up with a solid plan before he stepped onto my turf.”
Her mouth slowly dropped open before she fumed out a breath. “Are you out of your mind, Bren—Mr. King? What were you thinking coming here?”
“That I love you, and it’s worth my life to do everything I can to protect you.”
Genevieve’s face transformed, beaming with heartfelt emotion before she quickly masked it.
“So touching.” Marshal snorted. “Sounds like some desperate last words.” He glanced at Luke. “Go check to make sure we don’t have more company coming. I don’t want to mess around if we need to get out of here.”
Luke nodded, bulging out his double chin, and stalked off.
Genevieve mouthed, “Me too,” while Marshal’s head was turned. Even seeing her love for him shine in her eyes, Brendan’s stomach tangled in pleasureful knots at her verbal confirmation.
“Boss,” Archer called out in a wheezy tone, “Gen just now said, ‘Me too,’ to Mr. King, just so you know.”
Boss? Brendan scoffed. That confirmed Archer was, in fact, a sniveling backstabber who worked for Marshal. No wonder Genevieve struggled to rely on people—her Reno network had been comprised of selfish manipulators. Archer’s nose appeared to be broken, and Brendan hoped to heck Genevieve was the one who’d delivered the blow.
“Snake,” she hissed at Archer and sashayed toward Marshal.
That’s it, Gen. Get closer to me. As close as you can get. She walked no more than six feet in front of him, exuding the beautiful scent of roses mixed with spring—if he could just reach out and grab her.
Marshal’s eyes narrowed with harsh skepticism evident all over his face.
Genevieve attempted to soothe him with a look. “Jed, please just let him go. Dump him back in town. If you kill him, the Feds are going to?—”
“Enough. I warned you not to forget where your loyalty lies.” Marshal yanked what looked like a semi-automatic pistol out of his pocket and pulled the hammer back, loading the chamber. “I meant to do this more slowly, but I think it’s best if we just end your pathetic longing for lover boy. It’s time you put your focus into your life with me. Enough messing around.” Marshal raised the gun and pointed it at Brendan’s chest.
Brendan’s heart stopped cold, his limbs freezing. Wake up, or you’re going to die, dummy. He blinked, trying to spur his brain into action.
