But instead of leaving the restroom, he clicked the dead bolt in the door, locking it, and turned back to look at me. “What are you doing?” I grow...ed in a low voice. Ignoring the money on the counter, I moved towards the door, which he was blocking with his muscular frame. “Calm down, Sandy,” he purred, leaning against the door and crossing his arms. Two things that made my blood boil even more. First, I hate being called Sandy. And second, my soon to be ex-husband used to tell me to calm down. He fumbled for the key, climbed in, and closed the door, only half a second before a slug from the .410 slammed into the driver's side window. But the bulletproof glass valiantly resisted the lead slug that would have otherwise hit him in the head. Mitch flipped on the headlights, then waved at the livid woman who was reloading her shotgun. He laughed as he started the SUV, shifted into gear, and raced toward the main entrance.Now, in front of him stood his goddaughter and her accomplice. "Time. More

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