I Had To Choose Between Keeping My Ranch And Saving Six Strangers

into the second man’s head. He crumpled.

Garrett spun, firing. The shot went wide, shattering a decanter.

I tackled him. We crashed into the desk. He was younger, stronger, fighting dirty. He kneed my ribs. My pistol skittered away.

He got on top, hands closing around my throat, thumbs digging into my windpipe. Black spots danced in my vision.

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