“Shut up!” Gareth roars.
“Look—”
“Shut the fuck up, William,” he growls, kicking my coffee table and tilting it onto its side. “You think I don’t know that you look down on me? Being the district attorney doesn’t mean bull. I’m the one with the gun now.” He starts pacing, stomping back and forth. “Christ, being friendly with you all these years was a pain in the ass. Anya wouldn’t stop comparing me to you.” His eyes are red as he waves his gun around, his voice taking onan exaggerated female voice when he speaks. “Oh look, Gareth, William just took his family on a vacation to Italy. Oh, they just bought a new car. Isn’t the necklace he bought his wife gorgeous?”
If I didn’t already have one foot in the grave, I would make a crack about how my father really knows how to pick his friends. But I’m not in the mood to make jokes. My heart is hammering against my ribs, frantically beating in my ears.
I’m scared shitless of that gun he keeps waving around.
“You sent an innocent man to jail, Gareth,” my father hisses, a vein popping in his forehead. “I trusted you. I trusted that you were a good cop!”
“He wasn’t innocent, don’t you understand that?” Gareth roars. “That street rat was fucking my wife.”
“He’s not a street rat!” I blurt out, and suddenly all eyes are on me.
Great, Maeve. Perfect. Put the madman’s focus on you. Genius.
“You’re fucking him too, aren’t you?” Gareth sneers after a moment, and I flush with embarrassment at my father’s questioning glance.
“I’m his attorney—”
“Bullshit!” Gareth roars, loud enough to send fear crawling through my skin. My fear isn’t just for me but for Trigger as well. I just know Gareth will go after him next. “I can see it on your face. You fucking whore.”
“Watch how you speak to my daughter, Gareth. I won’t tolerate it.”
I sit up a little straighter when my father defends me, feeling a little bit of guilt for ever doubting how much my father cares forme. He thinks men make for better criminal defense lawyers, but he does love me. I know this.
I just wanted to prove to him that I could do it.
Looks like I’ll never get the chance, seeing as how we’ll probably meet our ends here. I can tell from the look in Gareth’s eyes that he intends it to be so. At least I had the foresight to call Trigger and slide the phone under the couch. It’s debatable whether he’ll even pick up my call, considering how he left this morning.
I sigh, deeply regretful that I’ll never feel his touch again. I only had a day to experience what it was like to belong in the arms of a man as beautiful as Trigger.
At least I got to love.
The word doesn’t bring me fear as it did yesterday. I accept it.
“This is the last time you will ever speak like that to me, William,” Gareth hisses, raising his gun in our direction. I brace for pain…for death. But a sudden noise grabs our attention and we all turn to look at the door just as Trigger storms in. He’s dressed the way he was when he left this morning, with a cold expression on his face that sends a shiver running down my spine.
“Trigger!” I call out, unable to keep the affection from my voice. I experience a series of emotions all at once. Joy at seeing him, love for him and fear for his safety. He has a gun in his hand and my first thought is that he’s not supposed to be carrying one. He’s on parole.
Stupid.
As if anyone would care about that if we get out of this alive.
He’s the man Gareth wants to hurt the most. Of course he would come here prepared, but before the rest of us can react, I feel arough grip on my arm and I’m forced to my feet before I feel the cold steel of the gun pressed against my temple.
“Drop your fucking gun or I’ll blow her brains out,” Gareth says, his voice sharp against my ears. I squeeze my eyes shut and for the second time, I brace for pain. For death. This is it. The end of the road for me.
“Gareth, let my daughter go. I promise I will take care of this. I’ll—”
“I told you to shut the fuck up!” he rages, pressing the gun deeper into my skin and no doubt bruising me. “And you, put that fucking gun down or I’ll shoot her.”
“You shoot her and I’ll kill you. I don’t care about going to prison again,” Trigger says, his voice cold as ice. I slowly open my eyes to find his eyes are the same temperature. And then they shift to mine.
“I messed up,” I whisper, tears falling down my cheeks. “I thought I could fix this for you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says, something dangerous crossing his eyes when Gareth pins his gun harder into my temple. “I’ll take care of it now, okay?”
