4
Holt glared after the departing man, wishing he had sufficient justification to use the many lethal skills at his disposal. Pressed tight to his side, hand fisted in his t-shirt, Cayla trembled, but she didn’t say a word. Even if every cell of his body hadn’t recognized Raynor as a threat, that would’ve done it. Allowing the man to walk away was taking all his considerable control. But he’d be no good to her behind bars for what he considered justifiable homicide.
At the sound of a car door slamming, Cayla jerked away.
Holt opened his mouth to say—well, he didn’t have any idea what—about the husband thing, but she was racing for the back of the house. He trailed her down the short hall, finding her in the little office, snatching up her purse. Her eyes were wild and desperate.
“Maddi
