Page 91 of Winning His Wager

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Page 91 of Winning His Wager

They just had to stop the man with a gun. Before he got to Dylan first.

Quade was the first to round the barn.

He stopped. When he came face-to-face with a guy around his own age and height. Carrying boxes out of the barn.

The barn that was on fire now.

The guy dropped the boxes in his hands. He grabbed for something.

Somethingmetal.

Quade didn’t hesitate. He just reacted.

And brought the bastard to the ground. Just like Slater had taught him to do so long ago.

The guy fought. And it was obvious he’d fought before. Maybe even knew karate or something like that.

But Quade more than held his own.

This guy had hurt people Quade cared about. And that was all the incentive he needed.

“Go! Find Dylan!” Quade yelled to Fletcher as the other guy actually tried to roundhouse kick him. Quade deflected. “I’ve got this guy. We need to call in the fire too. Before it spreads. Go!”

Quade showed the bastard a few roundhouse kicks of his own. Until the guy was down and not getting back up.

Then he dragged the guy from the side of the barn and the flames.

83

Fletcher just kept going.

There were small footprints running through the snow. He used the light on his phone to illuminate the path.

Dylan was out there somewhere. The sun had fully set. There was only one light, and it was dozens of yards from the back barn.

She could be anywhere on this place. Anywhere now.

Fletcher just kept following those small footprints.

He had no idea what this was really about, and he didn’t give a damn. All he wanted was Dylan back safely. Everything else, leave it to the damned cops to figure out. But her—she was his entire world.

He was going to find her.

Fletcher rounded the back barn.

Just as someone leaped out at him from the darkness.

Someone equally as big.

They went to the ground. Fletcher started swinging.

He knew exactly who it was. He hadn’t needed a quick flash of visibility in the light from his phone to see.

“Bruce! You son-of-a-bitch. You are going to pay for taking her.” Fletcher’s hand wrapped around his uncle’s coat. He yanked.

“I didn’t take her. That was all Willy boy. What are you going to do, little Fletchie? See you’ve grown up since I saw you last.”

Bruce threw the first punch.




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