“Crawl to me,” I ordered, patting my thigh in a clear order. Kohl jerked into motion, hand over knee, as they made their way to where I sat. “Look at you,” I crooned softly, the tightness in my chest starting to ease as my hand rested on the butt of the gun sticking out of my waistband. “Big bad Killer Kohl, reduced to a Ghost’s plaything.”
