Killian says with faux innocence, “Except for the part when he was lying to you about why he was on Cozumel, you mean.”
If a body could turn to stone, Naz’s does. He stiffens under my palm, his energy crackling with violence but his flesh as still and unyielding as rock.
“That’s just shitty of you, Killian,” I say calmly, “and, quite frankly, juvenile. Grow up. And don’t you dare try that scowl on me because you already know I’m not scared of you. Now go stand over there next to the nice old lady in the red scarf and give us a minute.”
When he doesn’t move, I say more firmly, “Go. Don’t make me ask you twice.”
He snorts, knowing I’m throwing his own threat from when we were on the Silver Shadow back in his face. But he obeys me, shoving his hands into the pockets of his expensive suit
