Quentin Tyler jolted awake, sitting up abruptly, confused about how he ended up lying on the bed. Before blacking out, he’d felt a blow to the back of his neck—a precise strike, probably from someone trained in martial arts or karate, capable of knocking him out with one hit.
The fact that someone like that existed within the Tyler family estate was unexpected.
“Where’s Jennifer Sullivan?” He didn’t have time to dwell on who might have knocked him out. The priority was finding Jennifer, and he had no idea how long he’d been unconscious. If she had already left Sunset Ridge City, she could be miles away by now—impossible to track.
He moved to get up but stopped when he noticed his grandmother sitting in a chair beside the bed, dozing with her head resting on one hand. Nanny Rose wasn’t i
