CHAPTER TWELVE
“Stop!” Mia shouted as the man flailed, trying to get away. She grabbed his g*n and pointed it toward him. “Stop fighting me.”
“Let go of me. Do you not understand English? This is private property and you need to get the hell out.”
“Are you Mick?” she cried, disbelieving. Paranoid, much? Is this the way he did business with all of his customers? How did he make any sales if all he did was shoot at anyone who came down the driveway?
A pause. “Who’s asking?”
“A customer . . . well, actually, a potential customer.”
“I don’t sell to anyone unless I know them. Who sent you?”
She thought fast, remembering what those kids in the abandoned trailer had said. “Cut.”
“Cut?” He looked confused.
She let go of him, still holding his g*n. “I live in Cedar Arms. He’s a kid. We cal
