Delayed by Nathan Kingsly (the false prince TXT) 📗

Emma asks. When he nods, she goes on. “I’m sorry for your needing to stop, but we can all agree that we need to take this reunion somewhere private. Can you recommend a hotel?”

He seems to mull it over, lips pursed, hand rubbing the stubble left on his chin, and then his eyes narrow, letting his hand drop to point in the car at us. “If I catch you both pulling this type of shenanigans again, it’s the back of my car and a night in the county lock-up.” He scrutinizes me, his hand dropping to grip the door frame. “You can tell her a thing or two to expect.” Then he stands, and I don’t want to say he struts, but there’s no other word for what he does back to his car.

Before I put the car into drive, I slide my hand in between the seats and put the gun back in its place.

“What are you doing with a gun?” She asks. She peers in the mirror at Robertt in the car behind us. “You could have been in serious trouble.”

“He knows about it.” I jerk my head in his direction. “Spent a few hours in the back of his car handcuffed. He had to check my conceal carry license.”

“Oh,” she breathes. “But that still doesn’t explain why you have it in your car.”

“I take it everywhere.”

“Everywhere?”

I nod. “Ever since my dad.”

She bites her lip, her brow furrows, and she pushes a strand of her hair back, “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

I put the car into drive. “Want to go to my place?” I offer.

She shakes her head. “I need to stay closer to the airport. You can drop me off at a hotel.”

I give her a quick glance. “You want to be alone?”

“Oh, no, sorry.” She shakes her head. “I mean us unless you don’t want to. Either way, that,” she points at the glove box, "is staying here."

“Fine, because I want to finish what we started.” The next time I glance at her, we are both smiling.

When I come back from checking the room, my brows lift up to my hairline. How in the hell had I missed seeing him or feeling him behind us?

“Brian? What are you doing here?” His hands in his coat, but in this weather, he didn't need one.

His mouth twists. “Get inside the room, and this time take your girl.”

Gripping Emma’s hand, I jerk her into the room and behind me. She spins; she's so graceful, though her expression gives her unease away. Trying to give her a reassuring smile, she smiles back, although a bit unstable, and she lets my hand go. I peer through the crack in the door again as I look back at Brian. “That doesn’t explain why you are here? Shouldn’t you be back in Cali by now?”

“I never pinned you for the slow type.” His right hand comes out of the jacket, and as soon as I see the familiar shape of a gun, I’m closing the door and bolting it. In the next instant, I’m turning to grab Emma to get out of the line of fire, but she’s no longer standing behind me.

Stumbling mid-stride, my eyes widen when I see him standing in the center of the hotel room. Ger.

Prison has not been kind to him. If the jagged scar over his eyebrow and the one puckering at his throat isn’t a giveaway, his gaze did. They are still that bland color of brown, the same ones that peer out of my nightmares, but there's something distinctly different about them now. They hold knowledge and experience I could only ponder, and hardened into fine points of observation.

My hands curl instinctively in remembrance of the moments his blood clung to my knuckles. However, then he didn’t have the look he wears now, calm, concentrated, and took down every detail with a thousand yard stare.

He’s had time to fine-tune his art, and I’ve had time to do the same. However, I'm sure of my chances against him. No matter the years I prepared to face this standoff, it all came down to applying it to action.

“Hello, Liam.” His victorious smile is as subtle as a shark’s before it indulges in lunch.

He has one hand wrapped around Emma’s mouth, so big they cover almost her entire face, and the other holds a gun directly to her side.

My skin feels too tight to have so much rage inside. A firecracker lit and allowed to ricochet, pinging off everything, making it hard to breathe. His filthy hands on her make me see red. Yet, I know if I let on to my true feelings, he will pull that trigger. I will not allow this to happen to me twice. My hands come up in a show of surrender.

Ger laughs. “You think that will help you?”

I grit my teeth when I see him push the barrel into her side even harder. She jerks, and the sound of distress demands I make him pay for hurting her. My options, however, are limited. My hands draw back to my sides.

“This is between you and me, Ger. Let the girl go.” Trusting Ger with Emma’s life isn't something I would bet on. He’d kill her for no other reason than to hurt me.

“Doesn’t that hurt your feelings, Emma?” His mouth forms around her name as if familiar, far too familiar. My teeth grind against each other. “Are you just some girl?”

“Back off,” I growl.

He leans in and stage-whispers into her hair. She tries to twist from him. My jaw aches with how hard I am clenching it. “He’s starting to get the picture.” His brown eyes shift to me, a sick gleam making them spark in the low light. I ball my fists and take a step closer.

When he catches my movement, he straightens, bringing the pistol into Emma’s hairline. She whimpers, and the firecracker dies out as my heart freezes in my chest. The anger is there,