Page 28 of Bound to the Griffin (Hillcrest Hollow Shifters #3)
“Not for any money in the world, you bastard. Now get out, leave! You’re not welcome here.
” I pointed at the door, but he didn’t move, standing calm and assured in the center of my room.
Ah, he’d found a way to dominate the space without the best chair, after all.
What a surprise. I fisted the handle of my hammer and glared.
“Leave, Evan. We’re over, done with. I am not the one who made a mistake.
You did. And no money in the world can fix what you did.
Now get lost—I mean it—and tell my mother she can forget it while you’re at it. ”
He finally moved, striding into my hallway with his chin held high, his steps slow and measured.
I saw it for the act it was, like he were making the choice to leave on his own, and my words had nothing to do with it.
“No, Gwendolyn, you’re the one making a big mistake here.
You’ll see that, but don’t expect me to take you back when you come crawling into Chicago with your tail between your legs.
” He slammed out my front door, the bell jingling from the force, sharp and bitter, not the merry sound from before.
I had followed him to stand in the doorway and watch him leave, just to make sure that he was truly gone.
My blood was rushing in my veins, my ears ringing from the adrenaline.
I’d stood up to him, told him off, and it felt so freaking good.
He was heading for a luxury sedan, a rental, from the looks of it, parked on the side of the street.
Snow had already drifted in piles around the wheels, which meant I didn’t see it until he started swearing.
His slick leather loafer kicked the hubcap; a bright yellow wheel clamp.
Movement from the corner of my eye made me turn and catch a glimpse of Jackson leaning against the corner of the B I loved it, reveled in it.
His tongue brushed mine—a quick taste, just a hint—but it sparked flames inside my belly.
Eager for more, I clung to the front of his jacket, but Jackson had a clear goal in mind.
Right now, sadly, that did not include hauling me inside for a quick round of very gratifying sex.
When he lifted his head, he met Evan’s glare with a challenge.
Then he slipped from my arms, tipping his hat my way with a wink.
I watched him confront Evan, the two speaking in low voices I couldn’t catch.
All I knew was that my ex was getting more and more frustrated by the moment, throwing his hands in the air, wagging a finger in a threatening manner.
I caught a snippet of the conversation that might have been, “I’ll have your badge for this!
” and through it all, Jackson remained calm, collected, in control.
I didn’t think Evan had ever been on the receiving end of a person he could not bully into doing what he wanted.
This wasn’t Chicago, though, where his name and reputation meant something, where his connections meant he pulled the strings of everyone if he so pleased.
This was Hillcrest Hollow, and here, he did not control anything at all. That included me.
Satisfied that Jackson had it handled, I firmly shoved Evan from the back of my mind and began to turn away, catching only a last glimpse of the two arguing men, or rather, the shouting Evan and the unmoving Jackson.
A third man was approaching, making me halt and look a second time.
This guy was in a pinstriped suit, but he’d paired it with winter boots and a thick parka, like he didn’t handle the cold well.
His face was tan, hair black, eyes exotic—the man I’d caught staring through the curtains before.
From Jackson’s response to him, I didn’t think they were friends.
“Come, Miss Gwen,” Ted said kindly from behind me.
I nearly jumped out of my skin again, because the guy moved so quietly I hadn’t heard him coming.
He only made sound when he wanted to make it, someone ought to put a bell on him.
Still, I welcomed the warm, fatherly hand on my shoulder, turning me from the scene unfolding right in the middle of Main Street. “You’re letting in the cold.”