“Professionals, Pagan thought, watching them fan out in a wide triangle on the beach. And like a complete and utter fool, he was caught helpless without his rifle. His gaze narrowed, darting to right and left as he calculated the chances for outrunning them. But the odds were nil. Not with the woman involved. He might dodge the three with only a scratch or two, but she would never make it. “F-friends of yours?” It was the merest unsteady whisper. “I only wish,” Pagan said quietly.... Suddenly his eyes narrowed. He made out the rifle’s dark length exactly where he had dropped it, back in the shadow of the boulder. Fortunately, the men on the beach hadn’t seen it yet. “Listen, Cinnamon, things may become rather heated shortly. If they take me, you must—” Suddenly Pagan caught himself up short. What was he worrying about her for? These were Ruxley’s men.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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