For The Thrill of it. A Michael Stone adventure.

Previously

…Michael looked at Rita. She was already on her feet, the ledger page folded in her pocket. “We run,” she said. “Good choice.” Ron stood and pointed south. “Village is that way. I saw a road. We can catch a ride.” They left the clearing, moving fast down the trail. The sun was rising, golden light filtering through the trees. Michael felt the weight of the rifle, the pistol, the wet clothes. But he also felt the ledger page pressed against his chest—evidence, proof, a chance to finish this. Rita walked beside him, her shoulder brushing his. Ron led the way, whistling softly. The stakes were higher now. But so was the thrill.