Seth (Henchmen MC Next Generation #9) Read Online Jessica Gadziala

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Tags Authors: Series: Henchmen MC Next Generation Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
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“Don’t worry about it. You’ll get better, baby girl,” he said, then turned to walk away.

I made my way toward the door, stopping only when I noticed a bulletin board I hadn’t seen when I was coming in.

I was hoping for a listing for a house rental or something like that, but there were only a couple of cards for local businesses.

Maybe next time.

And with that, it was over.

My first time holding a gun.

My first target practice.

My first step to feeling more safe and secure.

Now it was time to go pick up my kids.

CHAPTER THREE

Seth

“That’s a wrap for day one,” I said, mostly talking to myself since Amos wasn’t a huge conversationalist. From the looks of his bookmark placement, he’d read almost the entire book on his shift. Yet somehow, managed to keep an eye on the range as well. I knew because I had been watching the cameras too. “Any thoughts?” I asked, figuring I had to try to talk to the man. He was my only real full-time employee.

“Lotta suburban commandos,” he said, shrugging.

That was fair.

‘Suburban commandos’ was a kind of inside joke in ranges. You could spot ‘em a mile away. Showing up in tactical accessories that had absolutely no purpose at one in the afternoon on a Monday in the middle of the ‘burbs. Usually came with other commando buddies and talked in frequent, but incorrect, military lingo. And, usually, if you got into a conversation with them, it was chock-full of conspiracy theories.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I guess I kind of expected that. Commandos and noobs seems like they will be the first ones to make their way in. Then, hopefully, the classes will start to get some other people interested.”

“We’ll see,” he said, nodding, as I cleaned up the coffee station. “Baby girl was pretty,” he said, surprising me, making me turn to face him, trying not to seem as interested as I felt.

“Yeah, she was,” I agreed.

“Your type?” he asked. “‘Cause you were lookin’ at her.”

Shit.

I thought I’d been playing it cool.

“Yeah, I guess she’s my type,” I agreed, shrugging.

“Never held a gun in her life,” he went on, making my brows raise. She’d come in reasonably confident. Knew the gun she wanted and everything. But she could have just done research, so she didn’t sound like a noob when she came in. I had cousins like that.

“No?” I asked, wanting more.

He shook his head.

“Almost jumped outta her skin at the recoil. And it was just a nine millimeter,” he said. “Has shit aim, but good posture.”

“Like she did a lot of research,” I guessed. “This kind of place can be intimidating,” I reasoned. “What?” I asked, sensing there was something he wasn’t saying.

“Not my business,” he said, shrugging.

“But this is my business,” I said. “If you think something is up.”

“Just that… she shows up ten minutes after opening. Shoots like her life depends on her getting it right. Feels… desperate to me.”

“Not to…” I said, tapping two fingers to my temple, meaning she meant to off herself.

“Can’t imagine she’d need target practice for that,” he said with the tiniest hint of a smirk. “I’m out,” he said, giving me a two finger wave in the air before heading outside.

All in all, I had to say it was a good first day.

I wasn’t expecting droves of people. That wasn’t the kind of establishment it was. So long as there was enough money to cover the expenses, employee salary, and a little extra for me, I was happy.

It wasn’t like I needed the money. My “real” job was what it had always been, what my father had done before me.

Arms-dealing for the club.

Doing runs.

Sourcing guns.

That sort of shit.

This was just a side gig.

That I hoped would eventually, over time, pay back the investment I’d put into it. Because it wasn’t like it was chump change.

I wasn’t hurting, but now with a mortgage to think about, I wanted to build my savings back up.

That was also why I locked the doors. I used the office behind the break room to make and print out an ad for the bulletin board, offering up my spare house for rent.

Well, “house” was probably being generous.

My place came with one of those… granny flat things in the backyard. A very small one-bedroom space that was definitely a much newer addition than the main house, making me think that the previous owners had aging parents, and dropped the tiny home there to keep them close for easy caretaking.

It had been used as storage while I’d fixed up my place, but had been sitting empty, save for some furniture I’d left in there that I no longer needed.

Might as well rent the thing out. It wasn’t doing anyone any good just sitting there empty. And it would be nice to know there was someone around on the property, considering I wouldn’t be around that much. Between the range and the club, I had a lot of shit to keep me busy.


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