Lorenzo holstered his smoking pistol, his face completely pale beneath his dark beard, his mercury-gray eyes wide with wild, unbridled terror. He covered the distance between them in two strides, pulling Isla fiercely into his arms. His large, trembling hands cupped her face, her neck, and her waist, checking every inch of her skin for bullet wounds or lacerations. "Isla! Isla, look at me!" Lorenzo roared, his voice cracking with…
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