I frown.
I’m going to have Wilder’s fucking head for setting me up this badly. If there are lies that need to be upheld, that information needs to be passed on to the person who has to keep up the ruse.
I skirt the truth, saying, “I’m actually here as a favor to Wilder. That’s Lacey’s stepbrother. He and I are old friends. Don’t worry. I’m more than capable of keeping you safe.”
“I’m surprised the police haven’t shown up to talk to me,” she says in a daze. “But I never saw the guys. I just felt like something was wrong. Oh God, I left her at the market. I tried to get her to leave with me, but?—”
“Hey,” I coo, brushing my fingers over the backs of her hands. “She’s fine. The cops won’t be an issue. We’re handling this ourselves.”
Movement catches my eye, coming around the side of the SUV.
At first I think Charlotte and I are good and fucked, but the army green hoodie and fucking mountain man beard come into view.
I shake my head.
It doesn’t help.
Malachy slams the muzzle of his gun to the back of Charlotte’s head. “I don’t kill women if I can help it, but I can’t watch you shoot my little brother.”
She freezes, not that she was moving much before, but I don’t even think she’s breathing.
It’s a goddamn miracle that she doesn’t pull the trigger as he startles the fuck out of her.
“Everything is fine. She’s not going to hurt me. I scared her. It was to be expected. Right, sweetheart? No harm, no foul.” I give her hands a gentle squeeze.
“Right,” she chokes out.
“I’m going to pull your arms to the side,” I tell her, keeping my voice calm and level. “Then I’m going to take the gun from you.”
“Okay.” She nods.
I glare at Malachy over her shoulder.
Tact of a wrecking ball.
I swear to God, I’m going to throat punch him for this.
Chapter Nine
Malachy
Istow my gun, frowning as the woman trembles.
Patrick gives her a reassuring smile and prepares to move her hands to the side, but someone honks on the nearby road, and she jolts. The gun goes off, the gunshot ringing out through the mostly quiet night air.
Pat hisses.
Motherfucker…
She shot my brother.
The grass explodes a few feet away, and thank God the bullet didn’t embed into the side of the apartment building.
Charlotte squeals as Patrick wrestles the gun from her and shoves it at me.
“Take this,” he snaps.
I avoid touching the hot barrel and take the weapon from his outstretched hand, disassembling it before dropping it into the cargo portion of the woman’s SUV.
