Did he really want to blow up his own life – put his career on the line, ruin irrevocably his relationship with Damon – over some violent criminal who had just tried to kill him? Who undoubtedly had dozens, if not hundreds, of other illegal acts under his belt? For all Micah knew, Jason had successfully committed murder before.

Was it worth it? Was he worth it?

Caprice certainly didn’t think so, judging by the half-confused/half-disgusted way she was eyeing Micah. She probably thought he was suffering from some sort of brain trauma from being hit one too many times on the head. He could feel blood still sluggishly leaking down the side of his face – and he knew that that, combined with the badly chafed wrists and the undoubtedly wild look in his eyes, probably made him look quite… brittle.

Eventually, Caprice returned her attention to her phone. “I’m calling him,” she said authoritatively. “I’ll be sure to tell him to bring a doctor.”

“Let me do it!” he blurted before she could finish making the call.

She glanced back up, clearly skeptical. Micah must have looked really pathetic, though, because after a moment, she sighed. “Fine,” she snapped, handing Micah her phone. “Hurry up then.”

She already had Damon’s number pulled up on the screen. All Micah would have to do was hit the “call” button. And he wanted to – so fucking desperately. His fingers hovered above it in indecision.

Then, taking a deep breath in through his nose, Micah made a choice that he knew had the potential to destroy everything – and hit three familiar digits.

“You’ve reached 9-1-1. What is your emergency?”

Micah cleared his throat. “Hi, yeah. My name is Micah Hart, and a man just tried to kill me.”

Caprice was still holding Jason at gun point a few feet away, and he saw in his peripheral vision the way she stiffened, but he refused to look at her despite the fact her eyes burned a hole through him. That didn’t stop her from hissing at him like an angry cat. “What are you doing?” She took a furious step forward. “Who did you call?”

Micah shuffled backward in case she tried to snatch the phone away.

“What’s your location, Micah?”

Micah rattled off Caprice’s address, and the woman cursed.

He did his best to ignore her – and Jason, who still bleated pathetically every few minutes – and simply focused on answering the 9-1-1 operator’s questions. It helped that she had a calm, even voice.

“Are you safe?”

Micah glanced at Caprice. “Relatively.” (The operator hadn’t liked that.)

“Is your attacker still on the property?”

“Yes, but he’s restrained. I duct taped his arms and legs together.”

A bewildered pause. “Okay. Does he have a weapon?”

“A gun – some sort of semi-automatic revolver. But we got it away from him.”

“We? Is there anyone else there with you besides the perpetrator?”