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Except it’s this again. “Wait. What next meeting?”
“There is no next meeting.” Killian bristles.
“I know, she said she had to see you, and—”
A current of electricity crosses between Killian and me. An understanding followed by a primal need to protect what’s ours.
“She?” we ask simultaneously.
“The cute flower girl. Amara.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Carter
“You know who I’m talking about, right?”
As if either of us could ever forget her.
Luna’s questioning voice should comfort me. She has no idea I’ve been screwing the cute flower girl for the past six months. Relentlessly.
But, no. I’m nowhere near being comforted.
“Thank you, Luna, for coming here.” Mr. Responsible at my side manages to stay put despite his emotions varying between rage and urgency. Mine sure fucking do. “We’ll take it from here.”
Killian sidesteps Luna toward the open door. Me? My psycho, overprotective ass is already in the hallway.
Sure, a few words won’t hurt our strong woman. She won’t be physically hurt, either. Won’t be raped in the bar of our hotel. Nothing like that.
Our bartender packs a Glock on him just in case. Everyone knows he does.
It doesn’t comfort me. He could be hiding an RPG under the counter.
The fact is fucking Christopher is harassing Amara. And no one—not a single fucking one—messes with what’s ours.
We have to protect her. We have to be smart about it. Through the cloud of rage, I realize it has to be done without anyone actually catching wind that she’s ours.
One motherfucking step at a time.
Until then.
Save her. Take her away from here.
Murder Christopher.
“He’s acting out because of Preston.” Killian’s two steps behind me, alone in the hallway.
“Fuck him.” I glance over my shoulder, watching him catching up. “I don’t care that he’s a hitman. Don’t give a shit that Preston was his accountant. Rules are rules. And now this? Amara?”
Killian’s stern expression gives me my answer. I’m right to be losing my shit.
I charge forward, faster than before. My shoes can’t eat up the distance to Amara fast enough. A fucking lifetime, that’s what it feels like to get to her.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins, making me hear, see, and smell everything. My hand clutches my trustworthy Cyclone, both of us eager to slice into the man who got close to Amara.
Up until today, Killian and I haven’t administered punishments in public. Never disrupting the careful balance we maintain in our hotel.
That’s about to change. Goddamn Christopher Boroughs. If he so much as breathed a wrong word to her, I’ll demolish him.
