Noah strode into the middle of the garage, spun on his heels, and faced Quinn and Hannah. He spoke in a low, flat voice. “Put the weapons down.” Quinn blinked. “What?” Hannah’s expression tightened. “Noah. What are you doing?” “Put them down!” An ill feeling settled in Quinn’s belly like a block of ice. “It’s Rosamond, not us—” Noah pointed his Glock at Hannah. “I’m not asking again.”
Ugh this MAN!!!!!
