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... g heavy in his hand like a burden he hadn’t asked for. At the entrance, he froze.

Bert was waiting.

Of course he was.

Morrison’s brows furrowed at once. He had no patience for this madman. God knew what kind of sick stunt Bert would pull next. So he did the simplest thing—he pretended not to see him, turned away, and headed for his car.

But Bert was never going to let him leave.

He had been waiting here on purpose, watching, calculating. Last night, Morris ...

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