Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
"The entire fuckin' chorus is him telling her to come," I said, chuckling.
"Right," she agreed, running her hands over an M4. Which were one of the few assault rifles that were illegal to own. I had no idea how the fuck Reign got his hands on a small shipment of them. "But I had no idea what coming was until I was fifteen."
Fifteen?
The fuck?
I knew what coming was before I was out of elementary school. Granted, I grew up in a biker compound, but still. I doubted anyone made it out of middle school without knowing the term.
"How is that possible?"
"My parents never gave us the sex talk," she explained casually as she moved over toward the handguns. "And school was all about anatomy. I could tell you everything you need to know about your vas deferens," she added, giving me a raised-brow look over her shoulder."
"Think I'm good on that front."
"So, yeah, I didn't know what an orgasm was, let alone the synonyms for it."
"Did your sister teach you? She's older, right?"
"Yeah, Autumn is the older sister. But she didn't know much that far ahead of me either. She kinda learned in a... trial by error way. And then she was gone. Moved out," she clarified, picking up a Colt .45 and aiming it at the wall.
"And opened a sex store," I said, smiling when she did.
"Yeah, our parents loved that, let me tell you. Almost as much as they love my hair, tattoos, piercings, and potty mouth."
"I like your potty mouth." The words were out of me before I could even think them through, making her gaze shoot to mine, almost seeming a bit taken aback by the compliment. Rushing to cover, I waved a hand out. "Did you pick one yet?"
"I like this one," she said, holding up a Ruger Super Blackhawk which was practically the size of her goddamn forearm.
"Nah. Not a revolver. Pick a handgun."
"Why? This one is huge. And it has the spinny thing!"
"The cylinder," I said, running a hand up the back of my neck while I smiled at her. This woman.
"Yeah, the cylinder. So I can like do this," she said, spinning it, then holding it up, closing one of her eyes, and aiming at what she thought was likely my chest, but if she were actually going to shoot, it would barely graze my shoulder. "And quote Dirty Harry before I shoot."
"It's too heavy for your first time," I said, moving over to pick up a pistol instead. "This would be better."
"Ugh," she grumbled, putting her fun gun away and taking my boring one. "This looks like a cop gun."
"It is a cop gun. Glock 22 is pretty standard issue for a lot of cops. It's got the power of a .45 caliber but the flexibility of a 9mm."
And, I shit you not, this woman started humming "'9mm.'"
"David Banner?" I asked, smirking at her as I grabbed a few other guns and ammo to try out.
"Featuring Snoop Dogg, Lil' Wayne, and Akon," she agreed, a bottomless fountain of musical information.
"Alright, give me that," I demanded, holding my hand out.
"I want to hold it."
"It's going in my bag in the back of your fuckin' hearse. You get to hold it when I'm sure we don't get pulled over."
"You'd go to jail for me, Suga Suga?" she asked, clearly teasing.
"Better me than you," I said, snatching it out of her hand. And she seemed too surprised to fight me.
After that, I relocked the vault, we loaded up the car, and we headed out.
I learned some other things about Peyton on the drive out of town.
She slapped your hand if you touched her iPod.
She shamelessly belted out fucking Miley Cyrus.
And she had a bit of road rage.
"Oh my fucking god," she yelled at her windshield. "If you don't know how to drive it, don't buy it, sweetheart!" she added to the giant Expedition in front of her.
"You could beep at her," I suggested, not sure what the purpose was of yelling at someone when the windows were up, and they couldn't hear you.
"What kind of animal beeps at another person?" she asked, rolling her eyes.
"But yelling at her is fine?"
"Well, how is she going to learn if I don't inform her she drives like a ninety-six-year-old with nothing left to lose?"
"You're a fucking trip," I said, slapping a hand down on her thigh and giving it a squeeze. Why I left it there for the rest of the trip, well, I think I was starting to understand that shit.
And, yeah, it was new.
Weird.
Something that made not a damn bit of sense.
But I just wasn't someone who fought shit like that.
I went with it.
Life was a lot fucking easier if you didn't turn everything into a battle.
So, I was into her.
In a somewhat serious way.
And, well, I was just going to roll with it.