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And in an instant, I allowed my instincts to run away from me. I lunged for that man’s side, felt the cold hardened metal of his gun against my palm, and ripped it out of its holster. I needed a weapon with me to get out of this situation. I wasn’t going to be caught without one like last time.
Until something came down against the nape of my neck.
“Oh, no you don’t,” a voice grunted.
Out of nowhere, my body slammed against the floor and was quickly flipped over. Pain streaked through my body, robbing me of a voice to cry out with. The man in the black leather jacket straddled me as he smiled down with his two golden front teeth. He stood there, with his feet on either side of my body, staring down at me from his perched position. Somehow, in all of the movement, he had wrestled the gun out of my hands. And as he held it at my head, he cocked the plunger back, aimed and ready to fire.
“Hell no. Not like this,” I grunted.
I moved my hand as quickly as I could. I tangled my legs with his and tripped him up, taking him to the ground as I reached toward the back of his gun. I managed to find the button to pop the magazine out and tried to push the plunger forward, but before I could, a gunshot rang out. A gunshot so big and so bright that it rang my ears and shook my brain in my skull.
“ANGEEEEL!” Reid bellowed.
“Lights out for you,” Scarface whispered against my ear before the barrel of his gun slammed against my temple.
Knocking me out cold.
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Savannah Rylan is a romance writer that spends most of her time writing and reading with her cat, Gris. When not writing about sexy bikers and the women that love them, you can find her on the beach with a drink in her hand or at the gym testing out some strange new position. Yoga, obviously. She lives in Southern California with her husband and Gris, the true love of her life.
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