Like an animal—the way I thought of him.
My lips parted at the irony. “Maybe I’m just impatient?”
“No.” He shook his head, his eyes falling again. “That’s not it. You’re patient. That’s a quality you use for your success. I know. I know you. Logan’s the impatient one. Not you. You . . . if you attack, you’re doing it for a reason.” He looked back to me, and I was chilled.
He was dead inside. I saw into him.
I wanted to edge back, but I stopped myself. No matter what was coming, I was here. I’d take him down before anything could happen.
His hands were still in his pockets, and a sick thought came to me. I saw his hands moving in his pockets. No. Only his right hand. Like something was in there.
Like he was grabbing at it, getting ready to pull it out.
I didn’t want to give it a name, but I looked over his shoulder to Sam. She had to go. She had to run.
Tears streamed down her face. I didn’t think she was even aware of them. She had both her hands pressed over her mouth, and seeing what I wanted, she shook her head. She wasn’t going to go.
She had to.
I pushed back the ice that lined my organs. I shoved away the rage that was just underneath it. I only wanted her to see love and warmth right now from me. I saw the dawning recognition in her eyes. It was slow and still horror-filled, and she began shaking her head even harder.
She was going to say something, or choke back a sob. She was going to make a noise, and he’d know she was there.
He couldn’t—I tore my eyes from her and tossed out, “What the fuck do you want, Quinn? You want me to call Nate off Becky?”
I picked those words on purpose, and he grimaced like I’d hit him.
I advanced, softening my tone. “Because that’s what’s going to happen. And you know it. Whether she goes out just to talk, it doesn’t matter. You know how charming Nate can be. Girls like him. They unzip their jeans for him, raise their skirts for him. They pull their panties off and give them to him, if he asks. They finger themselves, if he asks. I know they do because he’s told me. How does Becky like it? Does she like your fingers in her first? Is she going to pull his fingers into her? Buck her hips on them, like she’s riding a horse? Is that what she does?”
He couldn’t talk. His hate for me was right on the surface, and my gut was right. He was here to kill me.
A chill went through me. I ignored it.
“You want to know the worst thing about this? Even if he was honest and told her he called her because I asked him to do it, she still decided to go with it. She did. She’s choosing him. How’s that feel? To know you’re going to lose a second woman you love because of me?”
It was enough.
A primal roar erupted from him, and he started to pull his hand out. I rushed him.
Sam screamed.
I grabbed his arm and pushed him back, hitting it hard against my vehicle.
He screamed too, but I kept hitting his arm against my Escalade. He had to let go of the gun. He still wouldn’t. His hand was still in there. Adam grunted. I held him against my truck, and he grinned at me. Sweat poured off him.
“I could never hurt you, Mason. I’ve tried, but it doesn’t work. That’s why I came. I wanted to give you this—” He started to pull his hand out.
I released him, stepped back, and rounded with my fist.
One punch across his face, and he slumped to the ground.
Sam was still screaming in the background, but I had to get the gun. He was unconscious, and his hand fell out . . .
There was a letter crumpled in his hand, and it fell onto the parking lot’s cement.
A letter.
I couldn’t—a goddamn letter.
My heart raced. I reached for it, turned it over.
It was addressed to Becky.
SAMANTHA
“Sam?” Gentle hands touched my shoulder. Mason. I didn’t know why he was being gentle with me, but I launched myself at him. I held him tight, burrowing into him. I wanted him to take me away. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be a part of this. Any of this.
He crushed me to him, his hand running down my hair and back.
I drew in a ragged breath. I tried to speak. I couldn’t.
He just held me.
Then someone pulled up by us. Car doors opened and shut.
A muffled, “Oh, no.”
Mason spoke over my shoulder, “Check him. I thought he was going for a gun.”
“Sam?”
A soft female voice. I looked. Taylor stood next to me, tears cascading down her face. She touched my arm. I didn’t release Mason, but unwound one arm and pulled her in. I couldn’t think about what was happening behind us.
“Shit.”
That wasn’t Mason.
I looked. Logan had fallen back so he was sitting on the cement. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. He looked at Adam like he’d just realized he was an alien. The letter was still on the ground, but . . .