She instantly recognized those green, green eyes; his
chiselled features; and a five oβclock shadow that seemed to
be a permanent fixture on his jaw. Ten years older, he was a
breathtaking version of the teenager sheβd known. The
teenager sheβd loved. The teenager whoβd scored and bolted,
taking her heart along with him for the ride.
It wasnβt a dream at all, but her worst nightmare. And why
was a gun clipped to his belt?
She cleared her throat and found her voice. βYou look like a
hundred-mile stretch of bad road, Rocket. What are you doing
here?β
He cracked a smile displaying white, even teeth. Moving to
the foot of the bed, the air around him hinted of sandalwood
and peppermint. βItβs nice to see you too, Billie. I see
youβre still styling your hair with a stun gun.β
Actually, her hair didnβt feel half bad when she ran her
fingers through it in a self-conscious gesture. Oh, sure, it
was long, wild, and curly, but at least it was
brushedβexcept for where a mountain of bandages was taped
behind her left ear. What is that?
βNot fair, Reece, like Iβve had time for the salon.β She
tried to hide her confusion by pulling herself higher in the
bed. Starbursts flashed behind her eyes. Her
vision tunnelled and her stomach heaved. βWhoaβ¦β
βBe careful. There were complicationsβthe bullet wound is
infected.β
Bullet wound?
She didnβt move, waited for the dizziness to subside while
she soaked up Reeceβs words. The ache in her head and her
sense of helplessness said he was telling the truth.