Page 28 of Ice Cold Christmas

“I’ve missed you,” Sebastian told her. His words were sad.

Melody, her body shivering, and snow falling from her coat, stepped toward her father.

Sebastian smiled at her as he extended his left hand.

She stumbled for a moment but kept going. She took his hand. Squeezed. “I missed you, too.”

Victor’s blood dripped on the fancy entranceway’s marble flooring. “We need to secure this house.” He gripped the gun. “Now.” Because the shooter was still out there, and he hadn’t succeeded in taking out his target.

Or…fuck…

Victor’s suspicious gaze swept the small circle of people in the foyer.

Dario’s hair is slightly damp. Hatterson is fully dressed. Why the hell is he fully dressed at four in the morning? And as for Sebastian…

Once upon a time, the man had been one hell of a shot. The best hunter that Victor had ever met.

Olivia clutched her silk robe tightly to her even as she watched everyone with a careful mask on her face.

Her gaze dipped toward Victor, only to immediately rush away.

His jaw tightened. The shooter could be outside…

Or the bastard could be standing right in the house with him. A shooter who, Victor was convinced, had been aiming at Melody.

He set the safety on the gun, then tucked it into the waistband of his pants. Victor stalked toward Melody as she leaned close to her father. Shivers racked her body.

Screw this shit.

He reached out, grabbed her, and lifted her over his shoulder.

There were lots of shocked exclamations.

Yeah, whatever. Did it look like he was in the mood for bullshit? “Fucking secure the house.” He spun away, with one arm locked behind Melody’s thighs as she dangled over his back. He was securing Melody. She came first.

He headed toward the den. The curtains had been drawn in that room earlier, he distinctly remembered that shit. So he strode inside, with her over his back and dripping snow, and his gaze immediately went toward the windows.

Still covered.

But even if they hadn’t been, a line of bushes—dead now, but a tall hedge—would have blocked the glass of those windows. The fire crackled and churned in the fireplace, and he wondered just when Hatterson had started the flames.

When I was searching for the killer? What the hell, man?

The fire lit up the room. The big Christmas tree. The antique couch and leather chairs. He marched toward the leather chair on the left because it was the closest one to the fireplace. And he plunked Melody down on that chair. “Stay here,” he ordered before he rose to his full height. Automatically, he reached for the weapon. Gripped it in his right hand.

She grabbed his hand. Melody looked at the gun, then at him. She shivered again.

So did he. Dammit. He’d been a freaking ice cube outside. Feeling was starting to return to his toes, and they burned.

“You were shot.”

“I was grazed. Big difference.” He wanted to check the house. To search all the rooms. But… “Lock the door when I exit. Do not let anyone but me back inside.”

“What?”

“Oh, you heard me, sweetheart. No one but me, got it? Because I don’t trust anyone else here.”

Her eyes had gone huge. “My father…”