14
TUCKER
Seeing Abigail with a smoking gun back away from the bastard with a smoking gun—one I instantly recognized as my own—in her hands had my anger grow to the point where I could barely see straight. Gabe and James were right behind me, but I couldn’t do anything but grab hold of Abigail. I usually went after the danger and eliminated it, but not this time. Yes, I wanted to take the weapon out of her hand and just shoot the bastard, but I needed to ensure her safety. Gabe could have his turn with vengeance.
But instead of wrapping her arms about me and holding on for dear life, Abigail fought me, pummeling my chest with her hands, pushing and struggling to get away. When she waved the gun in my face as she fought, I realized she didn’t know who I was. She thought I was the man who
