When I look up, one of Rafe’s men has a thick arm around his neck and a gun to his temple. It’s gold, with a dragon etched along the barrel. While everyone in the room jumps up and draws their own weapons, I smirk into the bottom of my whiskey glass. I’d know that ugly fucking Glock anywhere. Gabe’s gruff voice comes from the shadows. “Your cavalry are pathetic.” He drops the man like a sack of shit and shoves the others out the way.
