Page 54 of Gunnar

“Devyn!” The man’s face lights up with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and he strides toward us with the confidence of a man who assumes he’s always welcome. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Colton,” Devyn greets him through carefully masked annoyance, polite but cool. “Good to see you.”

Colton Cross.

I know the name, have seen it in the entertainment news that Devyn pretends not to read. He’s an actor, and apparently a heartthrob, as well as her date to the Oscars a few nights before we arrived. The thought tightens my jaw, my hand clenching at my sides.

He barely glances at me, his gaze sliding over my face like I’m practically invisible. He looks at Devyn, his expression predatory instead of charming. “You look incredible,” he croons, his eyes roaming her body with a familiarity that makes my blood boil. “Really, truly. That dress? Stunning. I’ve been meaning to text you, but you know how it is… schedules, premieres, the whole madness.”

“I do,” Devyn agrees, and I feel her discomfort through the tension in her arm.

“We should grab drinks sometime,” Colton continues, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “Catch up properly. I know this great little place in the Hills—very private and exclusive. We could talk shop, maybe discuss that script I’ve been developing. I think you’d be perfect for the female lead.”

This fucking douche is asking her out. Right in front of me. I’m holding her fucking hand, and he’s asking her out like I’m not even here. Like I’m not a threat worth acknowledging.

I feel the familiar surge of possessiveness, the primal need to mark my territory and make it clear exactly who Devyn belongs to. I keep my expression neutral as I slip my hand from Devyn’s and wrap it firmly around her waist. I pull her close, tucking her against my side with a jealousy that borders on crude. She melts into me, her hand resting on my chest. “She’s busy later,” I say, my eyes locked on Colton’s face. “And tomorrow. And the day after that. In fact, her schedule’s pretty full indefinitely.”

Colton’s smile falters, his eyes finally focusing on me. He looks me up and down—my tactical pants, scuffed boots, my untrimmed beard—and I see the dismissal in his expression as he calculates that I’m not worth his concern. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” he says, his voice taking on a clipped edge. “Colton Cross. And you are?”

“The man she’s going home with,” I state simply.

The silence stretches on, taut and charged, Colton’s jaw tightening. For a moment, from the way he’s glaring at me, I think he might make this into something it doesn’t need to be.

“Right,” he says, forcing a laugh. “Well. Devyn, always a pleasure. I’ll have my people call your people about that script. Think about it.”

“I will,” Devyn replies, though we both know she won’t.

Colton nods once, sharp and jerky, before walking away. I watch him go, my hand still firm on Devyn’s waist. I don’t let myself relax until he’s turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

“That was…” Devyn starts.

“Rude?” I finish, finally releasing my hold on her, though I keep my arm around her shoulders when we resume walking. “Presumptuous? Assholish?”

“All of the above,” she agrees, but she’s smiling, her eyes bright with something that looks like approval. “You handled that well.”

“I wanted to break his nose,” I admit. “Slam his face into that window until he remembered how to respect another man’s woman.”

“But you didn’t,” she points out.

“Because you’re trying to have a career and having your boyfriend assault a fellow actor in broad daylight probably wouldn’t fare well for your ambitions or my caveman status in the media.”

“Probably not.” She chuckles, leaning into me again as we approach the SUV, where Hawk is already positioned by the rear door. We climb in, Devyn sliding across the leather seat before I settle in next to her. Hawk takes his behind the wheel. He starts the vehicle and pulls into traffic.

The city slides past the tinted windows, and my mind replays the encounter with Colton. The way he looked at her, like she was a prize to be won, and the way he looked at me, like I was an obstacle to be removed. Something about it sits wrong, festering in my gut.

“Colton Cross,” I grumble.

Devyn glances at me, her expression wary. “He’s not worth thinking about. Really. He’s just… He’s used to getting what he wants. I only went to the Oscars with him because Jake thought it would be good press. He spent the entire night talking about himself and trying to convince me to go home with him when it was over.”

I should let it go and focus on the event tomorrow, but I can’t shake this feeling. Instinct has kept me alive in war zones, and I can’t bring myself to ignore it now. The way Colton looked at her wasn’t just desire; it was the look of a man who believes he’s been denied something that rightfully belongs to him. I pull out my phone, my thumbs moving across the screen.

“Who are you texting?” Devyn asks.

“Mattis,” I say, hitting send. “Asked him to look into Colton Cross.”

“Gunnar—”

“Something about him rubs me the wrong way,” I interrupt, turning to meet her gaze. “Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe he’s just an arrogant prick with boundary issues. But maybe it’s more. And until I know which it is, I want eyes on him. I want to know where he goes, who he talks to, and what he does in the dark hours of the night.”