John's POV
Now here was a situation he never imagined himself facing. John was literally staring down the barrel of a gun.
How odd.
This was not the person he imagined pointing a gun at him.
David would have a much steadier hand.
Tyler's hand shook as he sneered at John.
John raised his hands in front of his
+-,,*chest.
"You think you can come between what we have? You're a crusty old b*stard, one foot in the grave," Tyler snarled.
"Tyler!" Rhiannon shouted, dragging the young man's attention to her.
John's heart leapt from his chest and landed at Tyler's feet. His entire world hung in the balance now. He prayed to any God that would listen to keep Rhiannon safe. He would gladly take a thousand bullets for her.
"Rhiannon," Tyler pleaded.
Why hadn't he bought a gun? Everyone in Alabama had a gun, isn't that what his friends had been telling him?