Page 83 of Massacre
“You don’t tell me what to do, Declan O’Rourke. I’m not one of your deputies.”
Deputy Malone grumbled as he walked over and unlocked the cell, letting Massacre out.
Slapping the deputy on the back, Massacre grinned, holding out his hand. “Tough luck, Malone. No hard feelings?”
Deputy Malone grumbled and then walked away.
Grinning from ear to ear, Massacre walked over to me, slung his arm over my shoulder, and said, “Well, that was fun. What do you wanna do next, baby?”
Before I could even answer, we all heard Maureen shout, “You can’t call King, Declan!”
“And that’s our cue to leave.” Massacre smiled. “It was nice meeting everyone. Had a blast, but I gotta get the little woman home.”
With that, he ushered me out of the sheriff’s office, where I came face-to-face with my past.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Massacre
“Sorry, man.” I smiled, helping the man to his feet. “Didn’t see you there.”
“No problem,” the man said, dusting himself off when he stopped and looked right at my woman, and she moved next to me, face devoid of color. Pulling her closer to me, I noticed that she was shaking. I wrapped my arm around her protectively, then turned back to the man.
The stranger staggered back, still brushing the dust from his suit with deliberate, measured movements. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a face weathered by the sun and eyes sharp as broken glass. I steadied myself, uneasy under the weight of his silent scrutiny.
“You from around these parts, Mister?”
“No. I was just passing through.”
“Name’s Massacre.” I offered my hand, knowing a kind gesture was one of the quickest ways to get someone talking.
Taking it, the stranger never took his eyes off Amber. “Daniel Scott.”
I noticed Amber’s fingers tightening around mine, her nails digging into my palm. Daniel Scott—there was something about the name, the way it came out flat, like it was a lie or maybe just a warning. He stood his ground, unblinking, his presence sucking the warmth from the street.
“Do I know you?” I asked, voice steady, though my heart was rabbiting in my chest.
He gave me a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Doubt it,” he muttered, but the way he looked at Amber said otherwise.
Amber’s breathing came quicker. She was trying to appear calm, but I could feel the tremor running through her arm.
“I think we should go,” she whispered, her words clipped and urgent.
But Daniel didn’t move. Instead, he adjusted his suit and took a small step forward, enough to make Amber flinch. I put myself more squarely between them.
“Listen,” I said, keeping my tone light, “sorry about knocking ya to the ground, but we need to get home.”
Something about the man made my skin itch.
Amber tugged at my sleeve. “Please,” she said so softly it was nearly lost on the wind.
Daniel’s gaze snapped back up to mine, pinning me in place. For a second, I saw something flicker behind his eyes—a shadow, maybe a memory. But just as quick, it was gone.
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” Daniel said, voice smooth as old whiskey, but with a grit underneath that made my skin crawl.
“Not likely,” I replied, tightening my hold on Amber.
He looked at my woman one last time, his jaw clenching. “Take care now,” he said, voice gravelly, then slipped his hands into his pockets. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to his icy stare and Amber’s trembling beside me. Then, as quickly as he’d appeared, Daniel Scott strode away.
