Page 72 of Micah

Like loan shark behavior.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Every instinct forged overseas comes roaring to life.

Threat.

Potential hostage situation.

Unknown number of armed suspects.

Civilian inside.

One civilian I happen to care far too much about.

The towel hits the floor.

I don't even remember dropping it.

Jeans.

Boots.

T-shirt.

Holster.

Knife.

Wallet.

Keys.

Phone.

Everything happens on autopilot.

Thirty seconds.

Maybe less.

I'm out the front door before I've finished buttoning my jeans.

The truck roars to life beneath me.

Gravel sprays behind the tires as I punch the accelerator.

The ranch gate blurs past.

Town's twelve minutes away.

I intend to make it in seven.

Nobody—and I mean nobody—is laying a fucking hand on my Princess while I'm still breathing.

No fucking way.

Chapter 9-Sloane