Page 166 of The Incredible Ordinary
“Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast.” The voices echoes in the empty space.
I stop and sweep the flashlight beam to the left and right until it lands on the speaker. A man steps out from behind one of the metal posts that holds up the stairs and the platform above them.
It takes me a moment to even place him. I’ve only seen the guy in a photo.
“Dallas?”
“The one and only.” He spreads his arms and steps forward like he’s stepping onto the stage in front of a crowd of adoring fans. His voice echoes and makes a few pigeons take flight above us. “No warm welcome? A shame. We’re practically family.”
I raise my brow at him. “Are we?”
“Brother. Uncle. Different branches of the same tree, I’d say.”
“A strange choice of venue for a family reunion, in that case.” My gaze moves between him and Rory.
“Not good enough for Mr. Big Shot Tennis Star?”
“Finally somebody gets my name right,” I say mildly.
He lets out a bark of laughter, still snickering as he waves his hand toward me. “Sense of humor. Good, good. I can appreciate that.”
“Oh, thank fuck,” I say dryly. “Thatwasone of my priorities.”
“Didn’t your parents ever warn you that you won’t make many friends with an attitude like that?”
“Okay. I’d say it’s been a lovely chat, but my parents did teach me not to lie, so…” I shrug one shoulder before I glance at my watch. “Four thirty-six. I haven’t gone to bed yet tonight, and lack of sleep tends to make me a tad cranky, so I think it’d be better if we headed out before I really get going. Rory?”
He looks up, but instead of standing, he just swallows and looks away.
I take a step forward. “Rory?”
“I wouldn’t get any closer, if I were you,” Dallas says.
I throw him an annoyed look. “I would shut the fuck up ifIwere you.”
In response, he pulls a gun out of the waistband of his jeans and points it at Rory. Yeah. That definitely gets me to stop moving.
My feet lock to the floor before I even realize I’ve stopped. For a second I can’t hear anything except the sudden rush of blood in my ears. My stomach drops so hard it almost feels like missing a step in the dark. The gun looks huge in his hand. It looks heavy and real in a way that makes my knees weak. And every stupid, reckless thing I was about to say dies in my throat.
A tight, electric fear crawls up my spine. My palms go damp. I try to swallow, but my mouth has gone dry.
Because now it isn’t just Dallas running his mouth.
Now Rory has a gun pointed at him. And one wrong move from me could be the thing that gets him hurt.
It makes Dallas smirk.
“Finally seeing some respect out of you, huh? You don’t like guns, do you?”
“Not especially, no,” I say as calmly as I can possibly manage while my hands shake, and there’s a metallic taste of fear in my mouth.
“The almighty Milán Corbin. Afraid of a gun.”
“Are you trying to shoot me or flirt with me? Because you’re doing a shit job of both.”
“Milán,” Jordan says quietly. Urgently.
It’s almost as if Dallas is only now realizing Jordan is there, and I don’t know how. His quiet, steady presence behind me is the only thing keeping me grounded right now.
