The Right Kind of Trouble by Shiloh Walker Page B

speak with more volume than before.
    Gideon tapped the badge clipped to his belt. “Got questions.”
    â€œGo fuck yourself, Chief Marshall. Get out.”
    Instead, he sauntered into the room. “Just what has you so worked up?”
    She gaped at him. Clutching the crystal tumbler in her hand, she stared at him as he made a slow circle around the room. His dark head of hair was disheveled, and she found herself thinking of the times she’d run her hands through it.
    Had Maris—
    No. Don’t go there, she told herself. She couldn’t do that and still stay sane. She knew Maris and Gideon were lovers, didn’t need to torment herself with imagery of it.
    Maris was bigger than Moira, taller. As short as Gideon’s hair was now, it was would barely be long enough to curl—
    Her blood heated and jealousy burned even as the memories ripped at her heart.
    He was leaving .
    The agony just might tear her in two.
    â€œI want you to leave,” she said again.
    â€œI’ve got questions, Moira.” He turned and pinned her with a flat look. “Deal with it.”
    Her head was all full of what she was dealing with—the fact that he was leaving, the fact that she had really lost him, the pain in her throat, and the fear from the attack, combined with the sudden attack of dizziness. She realized she’d neglected to eat anything and that probably wasn’t good since she’d bolted eighteen-year-old scotch.
    Deal with it .
    â€œDeal with it?” she said. The words shook, which just made her madder.
    Since she couldn’t yell, she did the only thing she could do.
    She threw the tumbler at his head.
    He dodged—she knew he would—it went sailing over him to crash into the wall. It made a pretty little tinkling sound as it shattered and fell to the floor.
    â€œWhat the—”
    Furious and shaking, she swiped out a hand to grab for something else. Anything else.
    Her hand closed around a small brass elephant and she let it fly.
    That didn’t make a pretty little sound.
    Gideon swore and lunged for her.
    He caught her, pinning her arms to her sides. She tried to twist away, but it wasn’t happening. “Get—” Her voice splintered. It was like the dying shards of it stabbed into her throat and she gasped, the pain awful.
    â€œWhat in the blue fuck is going on here?”
    Wheeling her head around, she tried to find Brannon, but she couldn’t see around Gideon. “Bran—”
    She couldn’t manage to finish her brother’s name.
    Sagging in Gideon’s arms, she silently started to cry.
    Above her, she heard Gideon sigh. “Brannon, do me a favor and just shut the doors. Leave us alone, okay?”
    â€œI come in, see you grabbing her, see her crying, and you want me to leave you alone?”
    *   *   *
    Gideon jerked his head around, staring down Brannon.
    â€œLike I’d ever hurt her,” he said, voice harsh. He felt every soundless sob that shook Moira’s body. He didn’t know what had pushed her over the edge, but something had. Another spasm racked her body. “Brannon … please.”
    The man’s mouth tightened. But he turned his back and pulled the doors shut behind him.
    Scooping Moira up into his arms, Gideon carried her over to the couch and sat down.
    It was agony.
    It was also the sweetest ecstasy he’d known in months. Holding her like this … he set his jaw and tried to keep from thinking of the last time he had held her. The last time he’d touched her. Those few brief hours had given him the faintest bit of hope and then he’d gone smashing down into the darkest, ugliest pit of despair.
    He’d been doing fine—
    Moira shuddered again, a violent spasm that had him hugging her tighter out of instinct. She twisted out of his arms and half-fell out of his lap.
    â€œMoira, would you— oomph! ”
    She drove her elbow into