Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Ever shot one of these?” he asked.
“Yup.”
He handed it to her. “This’ll be tricky, Nadia. You claimed to be able to shoot with both hands, right?”
“I can. So what?”
“That’s not common. Most people have a dominant hand. Are you ambidextrous?”
“Not really, but I can shoot well with both hands for some reason. It came to me naturally.”
“Interesting. Can you shoot with only one hand?”
“It depends on the gun.”
“Let me see you do it.”
“Fine.”
“Okay, you’ve got two different guns there in your possession.” He took a step back and wiggled his finger at her. “Different pros and cons to each. One is significantly longer than the other, making this even more difficult. What’s your target?”
“You name it.”
“Are you going to try ’nd shoot one after the other, or simultaneously?”
She stood there for a moment, mulling his question. “Considering the size difference, let me do one after the other.”
“Let’s time it. How many seconds do you need between the switch?”
“Two seconds max.”
“Only two? Oh, you wanna show off, I guess.” He grinned. “Right upper thigh. Right temple. 3… 2…1. Go!”
She held both arms up in a bit of an awkward pose, but he was trusting the process. The seconds warred on like dripping paint. Slow and easy. Rhythmic heartbeats against a desolate night. The air rent with shots as she took fire, barely a moment between both shots.
“…Well, shit.” He beamed in approval. “Got me a good ol’ Annie Oakley. That’s the right middle portion of the thigh versus the upper thigh, but it’s definitely the right temple.” He pointed at the target. “I imagine if both guns were similarly made, the thigh shot would have been more exact. Cleaner. You were rushing, but it’s close enough. I love that for you.”
She laughed lightly and handed him back both guns, one at a time.
He placed them down onto a blanket he had sprawled out, then faced her. They stood before one another, gun smoke swirling all around them. The air was thick with lust, resentment, admissions and smolder.
“Thank you for tellin’ me about the guy following you home.” He grabbed her around her waist and brought her flush against his erection. “I know that wasn’t easy for you to do.” She nodded. “…Because we have a history, and you know how I am… and you know he’s thankful to be alive right now because I saw him, Nadia.” He felt her tighten in his grip. “I paid him a little visit, and followed him. I wanted to shoot his brains out. In fact, I stood there with my gun in my holster. I took it out. Aimed at the back of his fuckin’ head. But then, I turned around and let him be. It wasn’t easy. It took all of me to turn around and go home. God’s not through with me yet.”
They stared one another down, both quiet for a while…
“You know I’m not new to this. I will set the world on fire just to keep you warm. You remember what happened.”
She rested her face against his, and nodded.
Many years ago there was a man who walked into The Red Rooster in the wee hours of the morning. They weren’t open yet, and wouldn’t be for at least another two hours. Instead of turning the poor soul away, Lennox let him inside and went to the back to get some supplies. Nadia was nice and offered him some coffee on the house, to help him sober up. He was drunk out of his mind, yet lucid enough to have a fairly coherent conversation.
The man sat down on a stool at the breakfast bar. He began laughing loudly—he could hear him from the back. He could also hear Nadia pouring the coffee—the comforting sound of the brew being delivered to a clean mug for one’s enjoyment and aid.
Then, he heard the sound of something crashing.
Lennox came out from the back with several cartons of eggs, and set them down. Coffee was everywhere. “This bitch don’t know how to make coffee! The shit was too hot! It burnt my lip!” the man spat.
“Don’t call the young lady out of her name, okay? I know you’re drunk, but you know better. She was just tryna help. Coffee making isn’t really her expertise.”
“Not her expertise? She’s the same color as it!” the guy guffawed. “Nigger black! I ain’t even ask for no cream or nuttin’.”
Lennox let the first insult go with a warning. The second one? There was no cautionary communication to be had…
The man ended up with half of his damn teeth knocked out of his mouth with one fist to the kisser, and soon became an unconscious, bloody mess as he pummeled him nearly to death. Nadia screamed for him to stop but Lennox kept bashing the fucker in front of her to the point that he was unrecognizable. Just a bloody heap of blood, tissue, flesh and broken bones. It was a vicious, nasty, fast, horrific assault, and Lennox enjoyed every second of it…