Page 163 of Ice Princess

I watch him, silently measuring his movements as he gets closer.

The day of the funeral, Uncle Clancy was wearing a three piece suit along with the cane. Today, he’s dressed in a more simple shirt and khakis but, somehow, he still carries the same subtly dangerous air as he did in flashy funeral clothes.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re angry with me, Gunner?”

I hold still.

Uncle Clancy feigns a smile. “You’re not still upset about what I told you after the funeral?”

‘You need to stay away from that girl, Gunner.’

‘Our family did something really, really bad to hers.’

‘And if that girl ever finds out, bad things will happen to our family. Or to her. Do you understand?’

“So youdoremember,” I growl.

His pleasant facade drops and he stops beside me, staring in the opposite direction. Voice low and dark, he says, “I thoughtyouwere the one who forgot.”

Never.

I still remember the way he loomed over me with his dark scowl.

The way his fingers clawed into my shoulder, hard enough to hurt.

The way his voice thickened with a threat because—even as a naive and relatively innocent child—I knew he meant it when he said; that Rebel would be hurt if I kept being her friend.

“Here you go.” Mom re-enters the living room with a tray of drinks. “What were you two chatting so seriously about?”

“Oh, nothing. Just taking a walk down memory lane,” Uncle Clancy says, backing away from me. “Thank you, Carol. Why, this drink looks lovely.”

“It was nothing.” Mom blushes and waves away his compliment.

Uncle Clancy takes a sip. His eyes slam into mine over the rim of the cup. “Gunner and I were talking about his memories from the funeral.”

“He was so young then,” mom says, a note of surprise in her voice. “I doubt he remembers much.”

“I remember everything,” I reveal coldly.

“After the funeral, I gave him a little talk about making good choices and watching out for bad folks who want to destroy his future.”

My back goes ramrod straight.

His eyes train on me unflinchingly. “You were such a good boy, very obedient. Your mother taught you well.”

I clench my jaw.

“He’s still a good boy.” My uncle releases me from his firm look and points a calculated smile at my mother. “Isn’t he, Carol?”

“Er…” My mother looks between me and Uncle Clancy as if she can sense something is wrong about this conversation, but she can’t put her finger on it. “Since you’re here, Clancy, whydon’t I call the rest of the family over? Rather than visiting them one by one, they can come here instead. It’ll be a nice little gathering.”

My uncle and I are eyeing each other like gunslingers in a western. I doubt either of us are hearing a word of mom’s nervous spiel.

I size my uncle up. If we were on the ice and someone came onto my turf, taunting me like this, I’d slam them into the boards and take my chances in the sin bin. But this game we’re playing still hasn’t been defined yet. I don’t know the rules and I don’t know how to win.

My phone buzzes again. Someone’s desperately trying to reach me.

I check my phone and notice I have several missed calls from Rebel.

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