Dangerously Hers
Blood darkened his coat where it hit the concrete.
Jack froze — the color drained from his face, panic visible behind the anger. For one stuttering breath he stood with his gun trembling, then, suddenly, he dropped it. The gun clattered on the ground and Jack raised his hands in a gesture that was part surrender and part denial.
Scarlett laughed — short, humorless, like breaking ice. “Woo,” she said, the single syllable flat and dangerous. “My old friend. I’ve been waiting for this day.” She stepped forward slowly, each movement deliberate and precise. “You should have stayed home.”
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