“As a heart attack, Hunt.”
“And where do you plan on taking me, officer?” I snort. “Let me guess!Down to the station!?”
His eyes narrow a shade. “You have five minutes. After that, I’m putting you over my shoulder and carrying you out of here, whether or not your shit is in a bag and your shoes are on your feet.”
I blink at him, mouth agape. “Am I on some sort of hidden camera reality show? Did Phoebe and Nate put you up to this? Or Gemma and Chase? Is it some elaborate prank? An early thirtieth birthday gift, perhaps?” My nose scrunches up at the thought. “Though, frankly, why anyone would want tocelebrateturning thirty is beyond my abilities to fathom…”
He doesn’t dignify my questions with a response.
“Please tell me this is a prank,” I plead weakly.
“I could, but I don’t make a habit of saying shit that isn’t true.” His brows pull in. “Speaking of shit I’ve said — could’ve sworn I told you to start packing.”
My spine stiffens. “Do you evenhearyourself?! Are you seriouslyorderingme to leave my house with you? Without giving me even the slightest explanation as to why?”
“I’ll explain later.”
“No, you’ll explainnow,” I counter hotly. “I want to know why you’re here, how you knew to come looking for me, and where the hell you plan on taking me in the middle of the night that requires me to break out my freaking duffle bag!”
“Look, Hunt, the men you encountered earlier will be back. We can’t be here when that happens.” His eyes flicker to the window again before returning to settle on my face. There’s no warmth in his expression. “So walk your stubborn little ass upstairs and pack your damn bag.Now.”
I tense up at his bossy tone.Aren’t saviors supposed to be gentleman?He’s certainly not one. It figures, my knight-in-shining-armor is more of a jackass-in-faded-denim.
Story of my freaking life.
My arms cross over my chest but, otherwise, I don’t move a muscle. Call it pig-headedness, call it stubbornness… I have a tendency to dig my heels in when I’m feeling backed into a corner. It’s not my best trait but, like I’ve just said, I’m nearly thirty so…
Too late to change my dastardly ways, now.
“You wouldn’t actually dare carry me out of my own house against my will.” I scoff as though the very idea is ludicrous.
His eyes gleam with a scary intensity. “Oh, Hunt.Try me.”
I go pale.
He takes a small step toward me and I fight the urge to shuffle backward. “By my count, you’ve got just under four minutes left. Waste any more fighting, you’re gonna end up with nothing but the clothes on your back. Don’t cry to me when you spend the next few days in a hot pink sports bra and bare feet.”
I glower at him to hide the fact that I’m getting a little nervous. Because this doesn’t feel like a prank. And he doesn’t really seem like he’s joking. Not at all. In fact… he seems pretty damn serious about this wholepack a bag, we’re leavingcrap.
But he can’tpossiblybe serious.
Right?
“Three minutes, Hunt.”
“My name isShelby,” I snap automatically. “Don’t act like you don’t know exactly who I am.”
A muscle jumps in his cheek. He’s pissed.
Good. That makes two of us.
I take a step toward him, eyes narrowing. “And I knowyou, even if you won’t admit it. You’re Colin Something-or-Other.”
“Conor.”
“Right, that’s what I said. Conor Something-or-Other.”
His jaw clenches tightly. “Gallagher.”