““There’s something I have to help Charlie with,” she said, and it was one of the most dissatisfying answers he’d ever heard, and it left an acrid taste in his mouth. He was ready, so damn ready to get the hell out of town. A knot of anger rolled through him, but then he swallowed it away, because there was that image burned in his brain—the outline of a gun. And if you weren’t the one carrying the gun, you were usually the target. Julia was in danger, and he couldn’t abide by that.””
