“You’re lying.” I continue staring out the window at the bright afternoon sun. We’d checked Harlow in as Jane Doe, only after a phone call from a federal agent—courtesy of Frank Loyotta—convinced local PD and the hospital staff to keep her anonymous.
Though I doubt it’ll stay that way for long.
The door opens, and two armed men step in ahead of a third.
Adrenaline pulses through my system, and Delta growls at my side, his hackles standing on edge. “Sitz,” I order him. Sit.
Dressed in black leather, a snake tattoo climbing up the side of his neck and ending on his cheek, Heath Slater is everything Emma described. Though I don’t find him intimidating. No, I’ve stared monsters like him in the face before and lived to tell the tale.
So, as far as I’m concerned, Heath is merely another monster in need of slaying.
A criminal I plan to help put behind bars.
“Heath,” Harlow greets, her tone sharp and lacking all emotion. “Nice of you to visit.”
“Of course, Mother,” he replies with a savage smile as he moves farther into the room.
My hand instinctively goes to my lower back, where a firearm is holstered. “You can stop right there, Slater.”
He stops and turns his attention to me. “Well, well, if it isn’t the cowboy. Dylan Hunt, I presume?”
I’m not surprised that he knows who I am. I tighten my hands into fists, fighting the urge to end things right here. Right now. “Yes.”
“Good. I’ve been wanting to have a sit-down with you for a couple of days now.” He leans back against the counter near the needle disposal unit.
“What a coincidence, so have I.”
Heath smiles. “Look at that, then. What a coincidence that my mother happened to get shot in your vicinity. And how kind it was of you to bring her here so she could be tended to.”
It was planned, then. “That why she’s not dead? Because you wanted me to bring her here?”
“Are you insinuating that I had something to do with my mother being shot?”
“I’m not insinuating anything,” I reply. “Merely making an observation based on facts.” I cross my arms.
Heath stares at me for a moment, clearly sizing me up. He’ll likely underestimate me. They always do. But the most venomous creatures on this planet appear unassuming at first. Until they strike. I may not have the height of Bradyn, nor the same bulky muscle mass of Elliot, but even combined, they don’t match my lethality.
“Where is my wife?” he asks, tone level, voice calm.
“I wasn’t aware you were married.”
He grins. “Emmaline. Where is she? I won’t ask again.” He doesn’t even try to coat the threat in his voice. Too bad he’s trying to go toe-to-toe with a man who’s had a death wish for over a decade.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. The façade he’s had since stepping into the room begins to crack, showing his frustration lingering beneath the surface. Heath straightens and takes a step closer.
Delta growls in warning, but Heath pays him no attention as he crosses his arms right in front of me. We’re nearly a match for height and mass, but I’m not worried.
Not even a little.
“You’re out of your league, cowboy,” he warns. “If you’re not careful, you and every member of your family are going to end up at the wrong end of a tragic accident.”
“Similar to the one Felicity Karver faced in that boutique?”
His arrogant grin spreads. “What a tragedy that was. Does Emmaline know what happened to her? Or did you hide it so she’d be unaware of what happened to her mother? All because she couldn’t remain where she was supposed to.” He clicks his tongue. “Naughty girl.”
My muscles are trembling in response to the shackles I’ve placed around the fury pumping through my veins. I want to lay him out on the floor right now. Watch as that arrogant smile fades from his face.
