Barbie Btch (Rejects Paradise #3) - Sheridan Anne Page 0,94
open. “It’s Vincent DeCarlo.”
“Then why the hell did you let him in?” I demand as Casey sucks in a sharp breath, recognizing the name.
I watch in horror as Colton crosses the kitchen and presses his hand down on the scanner to unlock the little safe which holds all of the keys to his many cars. Only as the drawers full of keys pops out, he lifts it and curls his fingers around the sexiest, sleek gun I’ve ever seen.
“What the hell?” Casey demands, looking at her big brother with a gun, most likely the first time ever seeing a sight like that. While I've never exactly seen Colton with one myself, having guns around isn’t exactly something new.
I spy the monitor and watch as Vincent’s car shoots through and starts racing down the long drive.
Colton looks at his sister. “Get upstairs. Find Mom and Cora and take them to the panic room.” She nods and rushes away without another word as Colton looks at me. “Where’s your mom?”
“Pool house.”
“Good. She’ll be okay there.”
He starts making his way to the front door and as he disappears from the room, I find myself flying off the counter and following behind. “What are you going to do?” I question, panicking and not wanting him to do what I think it is he’s going to do.
He clenches his jaw and keeps walking, crossing the staff quarters and finding Harrison. “Get all the staff out of here. DeCarlo is on his way. You have thirty seconds tops.”
Harrison’s eyes go wide and although there’s nothing he wants more than to see Vincent go down for taking Maryne away from him, he has a job to do and he won’t risk any of the staff in the process. We don’t need a repeat of what happened here a few short weeks ago. This time, we have our wits about us.
Harrison nods and within seconds, he’s pressing an alarm that sounds throughout the house. The staff instantly fall in line and start racing toward Harrison, waiting on instructions. Once Colton sees his people are being taken care of, he moves ahead. This time he doesn’t stop on his way to the front door.
“Colton,” I say, attempting to get his attention but his stubborn nature has him intent to ignore me, knowing damn well that I'm about to try and stop him. “What are you doing? You could get hurt.”
He wordlessly reaches down and takes my hand, trying to ease my worry yet he doesn’t say a damn word, just keeps moving ahead until we reach the front door.
He tears it open and pulls me out before hitting the lock on the back of the door and closing it, making it harder for anyone to get back through it. He starts racing down the stairs, pulling me along with him, intent to get this bullshit as far from his home and family as possible.
Vincent’s car appears racing down the drive, and by the time we reach the bottom step, Vincent is skidding to a halt, leaving two thick rubber lines on the immaculate drive.
Vincent pours out of his expensive sports car and barrels toward me and Colton. My hand is instantly released and Colton forces me back a step, keeping me away from Vincent's reach but the way Vincent stares down Colton, it’s as though I'm not even here.
Vincent shoots his arms out, aiming for Colton’s neck but Colton evades him like some kind of MMA pro. In seconds, he has Vincent pinned to the side of his stupid car, his sleek gun pressed under his chin, exactly how his son had done to Maryne. I stare in surprise. I didn't know Colton was capable of that and damn, it's a massive turn on.
“Release me,” Vincent spits, knowing damn well that Colton won’t hesitate to pull the trigger, especially after the shit storm his sons rained down on this property.
Colton laughs. “Release you?” he questions. “Now why the fuck would I go and do something so stupid?” The gun presses harder against his chin, forcing Vincent's head up so that his eyes meet Colton’s. “You sent your sons to terrorize my home, my family. A woman who was the only motherly figure in my life was brutally murdered by Marco. I should kill you right fucking now.”
Vincent pushes against Colton, trying to get him away, but he doesn't budge. “You don’t have the balls.”
“Don’t I?” he questions with a sick smirk, showing me just how badly he wishes to