Clive stormed up behind her, barely holding back his temper as he reached out to grab Amelia.
But before he could even touch her, a man’s hand shot out and clamped down on Clive’s wrist, squeezing so hard Clive almost yelped.
“If you’ve got something to say, use your words. Or did the Salmeron family skip that lesson?” Ryan’s tone was ice-cold, not a hint of warmth.
Clive looked up, finally getting a clear look at the man’s face. It hit him all at once—he remembered their first meeting at West Medicine. And just a minute ago, Amelia had called him Mr. Packman.
So he really was Ryan.
Clive’s gaze shifted over Ryan’s shoulder, landing on Francisco, who was standing quietly in the back. Fury flared in Clive’s eyes.
Francisco was close with Amelia, and when the tension started to spike, he’d pulled her out of harm’s way. He’d barely let go of her when he felt a wave of pure hostility zeroing in on him.
Confused, Francisco looked around, trying to figure out who was shooting daggers. He found Clive glaring at him like he wanted to tear him apart.
Francisco blinked in surprise. “Huh?”
He glanced left and right. There was no one else. Was that anger really aimed at him?
He was even more puzzled. He hadn’t done anything to piss off Clive, had he? He was just here, basically invisible.
By now, Kristen had walked over as well.
Ryan let go of Clive’s hand, giving Kristen a quick, indifferent look. The angry red handprints on both her cheeks stood out, and when he glanced at Clive, he saw the same marks. Neither of them had been spared.
He lowered his gaze, long lashes hiding a flicker of a smirk. Yeah, this was so Amelia.


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