“Here I am. Rock you like a hurricane,” were the first words out of Dillon’s mouth.
“Are you serious? Eighties song lyrics?” Chloe was not impressed.
Dillon shrugged, “Get outta my dreams. Get into my car!”
In desperation Chloe scrambled for the emergency revolver hidden in the desk drawer. If ever there was an emergency that demanded violence as the solution, this was it. The gun leapt into her hand and—
BANG!
“W-what have I done?” Chloe voice quivered in shock.
Dillon looked down at his bleeding wound, “Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame. You give love a bad—”
BANG!
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