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Page 202

| "Ashton!" Sasha cried, grabbing for Stanford when he lunged for Ashton and had him quickly pinned to the ground. |

| "You son of a bitch," Stanford growled, quickly slipping his knife from its sheath at his waist. "You continue to pay no heed to my warnings. Are you wantin' another scar on that ugly face of yours? I'll oblige, if you are." |

| Sasha crept to her feet, trembling. She sucked in a wild breath of air when Stanford lowered his knife to Ashton's throat. "No!" she whispered harshly. She looked quickly at the shotgun. She grabbed it up before Stanford noticed and soon had the barrel thrust against the back of his neck. |

| "Get off Ashton or I'll blow your head clear off your body," Sasha warned, her voice quivering. Her stance wavered when Stanford didn't budge. "Do it, Stanford, or I'll shoot you." |

| "You don't have the nerve," Stanford chuckled. He began easing the knife back towards his sheath. "But to save testin' you, I'll do as you say." He gave her a slow look. "I'm puttin' the knife away. Now you lower that damn shotgun." |

| "Not on your life," Sasha said, steadying the shotgun as she fought the continued trembling of her fingers. |

| "How in the hell can I move with a shotgun poked against my head?" Stanford argued, not taking a chance on trying to move. He never trusted a woman's skills with a firearm. Especially a woman with the spirit of a wildcat! |

| "As I move the shotgun slowly away, you move with me," Sasha said, inching around so that she |

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