Someone was watching her. She could feel it.
Kira Davis lifted her gaze to scan the grocery aisles in front of her. Nothing. She slowly turned. Her heartbeat accelerated, her palms damp with perspiration.
That was when she saw him. He leaned back against the counter, his jean clad legs crossed at the ankles, his arms folded over his chest. His silver-tarnished gaze drilled into her. Beneath his black Stetson, his expression was hard, unrelenting—dangerous. Three words that applicably described Gabriel Michaels, a man she’d sent to prison.
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