Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97394 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“I thought you said we were visiting some old friends,” she says as we walk toward James’s BMW.
“We are, in a way. Gotta pay my respects. Lots of guys are gone from my family since I left.”
“Oh,” she says, and I think I can detect a hint of understanding or something.
I don’t know what it is. But when she grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly, I know she’s here with me. With me and not because of me.
“Gabriel, how’s the air on the outside?” James asks as he steps out of his car.
He’s dressed in his usual black fancy jeans and tight-fitting shirt.
“Good, pretty boy. How’s life with a tiny dick?” I ask him.
“Eh, less chance of catching something when I don’t even get inside.” He smirks at me.
Turning back to go to his trunk, he continues, “I wasn’t sure how much of a load out you’d need, so I brought a mix of everything.”
“Sounds good. You able to fit her with a vest?”
He pops his head out from behind the trunk lid, reminding me of one of those movies where some kid is looking around a corner.
“The runt?” he asks with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Yeah, I got one that will fit her, I think. Though, with her bust, she’s gonna be squeezed in until I can one fitted properly for her.”
Looking down at the confused but blushing bride of mine, I nod. “Yeah, she’s short as fuck and busty as hell. Kinda like a Texas woman from a country song, just needs the hair.”
“I’m going to castrate you and make you an ox in your sleep,” she growls at me.
“Jesus, you’re just like fucking John, man. Dude’s always cutting someone’s junk off,” James says with a chuckle as he motions us over to his trunk.
Walking to the back, my heart gets that little stutter as I look at all the beautiful weaponry he has stashed inside. It’s like the boy wants to arm half a platoon and invade a small country.
“Jumping fucking Jesus, you going to war?” I ask.
With a snicker, James, shrugs his shoulders. “Nah, I just follow the good ol’ Boy Scout motto.”
“What’s mine from all this?” I ask.
“Anything and everything. I was at the compound, so I grabbed all the shit I thought you might want. I’ll resupply later,” he says and steps back so that I can get in and start loading up.
Looking at my little fucking sexy woman, I spot our first problem. “You order any jeans when you were shopping?”
“A couple. Why?” she asks as she peers down into the trunk.
Pulling up my shirt, I motion to the holster I have on my hip. Nodding over to James, I watch as he does the same thing.
“Arm holsters are impractical for how we dress, unless you’re that fuck Simon,” I say.
I motion to her leggings. “Those aren’t going to hold a belt holster, and carrying a gun around in a purse is asking to get yourself fucking killed.”
“Oh.” Her mouth makes that a-ha movement, and I could so see myself sliding my thick cock in between her lips.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Were probably not going to need most of this today, but since you tried putting a bullet through my chest a couple of days ago, I figure you can at least shoot a gun, right?”
She nods that beautiful head of hers and gives me a grin. “I get a gun?”
“Yeah, and bullets too,” I say.
She grimaces. “A girl tries to shoot someone one time without bullets and you never let her live it down.”
“We’ll see,” I say, and pull out an empty black bag.
Spotting the large sticks of C-4, I grab a few stacks, as well as three bags of metal ball bearings.
Looking over at James, I ask, “This C-4 civilian or military grade?”
“Military grade,” he says, looking up from his phone.
“Good,” I say.
Grabbing the rest of the gear we’ll need from the trunk, I smile as Meghan’s eyes grow wider and wider with each weapon I pull out. Most of the guns I won’t need anytime soon, but it never hurts to have a couple of M4 assault rifles. Grabbing four more pistols, I shove them into the bag I’ve filled up.
Hefting the large black bag of goodies onto my shoulder, I hand a modified M4 assault rifle to Meghan. “That one is yours. And we’ll get it set to your comfort in a couple of days. I’m sure we’ve got a range we can train at.”
Walking over to the truck, I say to James, “I’m surprised I didn’t see any surface-to-air missiles in there.”
“Simon and Lucifer have a stock of those at the compound. They won’t let me play with them, though. Something about children and blowing the house up,” he says with an annoyed shrug.
Meghan
Pistols, assault rifles, and explosives, oh my. Gabriel pulls so much from the back of James’s car, my head starts to spin.