Pulse (Collide, #2)(80)
Wild, panicked ringing pierced Emily’s ears. Mouth parting in a silent gasp and body a twisted pile of nerves, her wide, tear-filled eyes honed in on Gavin. His brows angled down, deepening the sharp crevices splintering his face. His lips curled over his teeth as though he was fighting a poisonous taste. His eyes, those hypnotizing, beautiful eyes, turned a shade of blue so deep, dark, and vengeful, she swore he’d become possessed. She gulped as she prepared for his fury.
Gavin sprung to his feet, his hand darting forward. Clutching the collar of Dillon’s red polo shirt, Gavin dragged him up, their bodies inclined over the table. Faces as close as lovers about to share a passionate kiss, Gavin’s knuckles turned white. “Don’t throw your f*cking threats at me, *,” he snarled. “I’ll kill you right here in this diner.”
Palms resting on the table, Dillon’s eyes flashed like brushfire. His words came out in a loud, barking laugh. “Did you hear that, everyone? This man said he’s about to kill me in front of all of you. Who wants to watch?”
With her chest heaving fast in quick, shallow breaths, Emily whipped around, taking in the curious onlookers. Every pair of eyes in the diner was focused on the display. A mother with two young children gasped in stupefied horror, shooting a scrutinizing glare at Emily. Seconds before the manger reached the table, Emily grabbed Gavin’s elbow in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “Gavin,” she choked out, blinking rapidly in mounting panic. “Gavin, sit down. There’s a manager coming.”
“Yes, Gavin,” Dillon said in a low sneer, his face inches from Gavin’s. “You might want to be careful. He might’ve already called the cops. Maybe your bid upstate will begin tonight?”
“Excuse me,” said the middle-aged manager standing in front of their table. Clearly flabbergasted by the scene, he dug his hands in his hips, his voice firm. “I need to ask you gentleman to calm down, or I’m going to have to throw you both out.”
Eyes aflame with black fury, Gavin slowly released Dillon. Head jarred and body shaking with unleashed hunger for Dillon’s blood, Gavin pulled in a deep breath and cleared his throat. “We’re actors.” Gavin stared at Dillon, his tone so calm, it sent a shiver screaming through Emily’s bones. “We were just acting out a scene.” Taking his seat again, Gavin looked at the manager. “Please accept my apologies. The rest of our stay will be uneventful.”
“Actors?” the manager asked, skepticism heavy in his question.
“Yes. Actors,” Gavin answered coolly, watching Dillon sit again.
The man nodded. “Okay, actors, don’t let it happen again. If you do, you’re both out of here.” On that note, he turned and walked away.
“What do you want?” Gavin asked. His eyes were murdering Dillon from across the table, but his tone held sickening composure.
Dillon lifted his shoulder in a casual shrug, an evil grin bleeding over his mouth. “I want in. I want access to each and every single doctor’s appointment. I also want to be present during the birth.” He paused, slid a hand though his slicked back, dirty blond hair, and aimed his gaze at Emily. “I’ve always wondered what the screams of a woman sounded like when she’s being split in two from the pain that comes with pushing another human being from her body. Especially the women who deserves every minute of that pain.”
Gavin surged forward, but Emily quickly lifted her hand to his chest. Nearly speechless, her face twisted in shock. “You’re out of your f*cking mind,” she breathed, wiping a tear from her face. “You don’t want any part of this baby, and you know it, you bastard. You’re not even supposed to be near me.”
Dillon leaned back and crossed his arms. “You’re right about a few things, Em. No, I’m not supposed to be near you. But let’s not forget what the cop said at the school. Once again you’ve been a bad, bad girl breaking the rules.” He wagged a disciplining finger at her. “I did a little research. You can have the order of protection amended in a situation like this so I can attend all of these joyous events coming up in our lives. And you’re also correct in that I really have no desire to have any sort of relationship with the little f*cker. Either way, I’m—”
“How much?” Gavin questioned, a bid upstate looking more appealing with every word dropping from the *’s mouth. “How much do you want to walk the f*ck away? Walk away and never bother us again.”
Dillon threw his head back, laughing as he cupped his chin. “You see, Gavin, I’m not as stupid as you may think I am. Don’t ever forget that. I knew you would try to buy your way out of this. I know your f*cking kind, the rich sleaze walking this f*cking earth thinking they can purchase everyone around them. I don’t need your f*cking money. I have my own. Don’t think for one second you f*cked me by pulling your accounts because you didn’t. Now, sure, even Trump would be a madman, passing up a little more cash. But no amount of green you can pay me will provide the same satisfaction I’m going to get from watching you two squirm under the pressure of having me around during all of this. I’m already f*cking warm and fuzzy just thinking about it. One million or ten million of your filthy dollars couldn’t buy that feeling. If I could, I’d bottle it up. I’m hitting you where it’s going to hurt you the most, and that’s not your wallet. It’s sitting right next to you looking mighty fine this evening.”