Page 43 of Beastly Armory
“Try your best, fox!” Derichs smirks and heads to the outside range door. Max and I put on our earmuffs and eye protection, then head out behind him.
Placing his chest to my back, Max cozies up behind me in my booth to show me how to load the rifle and hold it properly. One thick muscular arm wraps around me, and a large hand grips my hip bone, which makes concentrating on my target much harder than it should be. I try to steady my breathing, but any time I inhale, my nose tangles with some of that steely scent from him, and I want to moan.
“Just like that, foxy,” he says next to my electronic earpiece. I take aim through the sights and fire with steady pressure. Recoil isn’t as bad as I thought, with him there holding me. The paper target has a hole through the center of the chest. “That’s it. Good girl.” My clit throbs. I lean into him more. Max’s chuckled breath hits my exposed neck, the cool breeze a needed retreat from how hot he makes me inside. “Be good. Focus.” He gently pats my ass a few times with an open palm. Then moves to his own booth. Immediately, my body misses where he isn’t.
Derichs pops away at his target, filling it with bullet after bullet straight through the head. Max aims and does the same. Sensing the need to show off some skills to the men, I set my sights and put a bullet through the neck, but was aiming for the head. A few more rounds, and I feel ready to flip to semi-auto. After firing, I realize Iam not. Nope. Too much for me. I take some deep breaths and try again.
Derichs puts his rifle down and comes to my booth. “Want me to give you some tips?”
“Sure!” He seems to have a good grasp on how to do this properly, and Max showing me is too much of a distraction.
Derichs guides me on how to better grip and hold, folding into the gun. Using my breath, I take more precise aim. The next steady pull of the trigger lands a spray of bullets into the head, and I steal a glance at the bear, who nods at me with a smile.
Putting the rifle down, my tiny palm meets Derichs’s large one in a high five. “Thank you!”
“No problem. You just need a bear to show you how to fight. We don’t do that stealthy shit.” Pursing my lips, I give him a wry grin. He’s right, though. Von Dovishes are not known for using weapons of these kinds. Ours are much more sinister.
We check out of the range, but Max stops off at their locker rooms to change his outfit for the meeting. Derichs and I wait while leaning against the Barracuda’s trunk. The autumn wind billows in gusts, and the air smells like rain, but it’s not so cold we want to miss out on the golden sunset.
Kicking a small stone on the ground, Derichs crosses his arms over his chest. I’m about to ask him how his shoulder is feeling, when he interrupts me.
“Don’t hurt him, okay?” His serious eyes stare me down with such a flat look, my pulse thumps in my belly.
Swallowing a sudden dryness in my throat, I answer him, “I don’t know what you mean?—”
“Don’t hurt Max. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but stop. He’s a very good man. The absolute best one I know.”
Under his gaze, I feel like I’ve just been asked to make a public speech. “I’m not playing a game.” At least… I’m not trying to. When he’s given me advances, I try to shake them off, despite his ruggedly handsome looks and bravado attitude that makes me want to ride his face. I can’t and I won’t. Alone is the best way for me to go. Safety in solo, that’s my motto.
“Good.” His face lightens, and he ruffles the top of my mohawk. My shoulders relax with his sudden change in demeanor, and I pretend punch him in the gut as he mocks a loud groan. Before he can grip me into a full headlock, I twist his good arm behind him carefully. We’re laughing when Max approaches.
He’s changed into the suit he wore when I first saw him at the Crimson Angel. Derichs slides out of my arms and gets in the back of the car, and I sidestep so Max can throw his bag in the trunk. As nonchalantly as possible, I try to sniff his cologne, which makes the nerves already wrestling within my stomach escalate into a full battle.
“What?” Deep brown eyes scan my face suspiciously. I guess I wasn’t as casual as I thought.
Shrugging, I reply, “Nothing.”
He smirks with his pussy pulsating grin. “Get in, foxy.”
Driving down to the bay area, we locate the addressof the meeting place Nick texted me. A narrow alley sits between two nondescript brick buildings. It’s night now and only darkness escapes from the hole, but the sidewalks are still filled with people bustling about. Despite the lateness of the hour, everyone seems to be dining in nearby restaurants and glass fronted cafés. Outside of the black hole, life exists with zest, but within… who knows what awaits us. My teeth clench to keep from chattering.
“Derichs, keep the car running,” Max eyes him like a father telling a naughty child to behave. “I’m assuming they’ll take our weapons, so?—”
“They won’t find mine.” Max’s head tilts to me with curiosity. I reach down into my boot for my hidden blade, showing him the spot. “I keep it here. Always.”
“I’m sure they’ll find mine, so I’m leaving it with you.” He hands his blade to Derichs, who tucks it in his waistband. We stow our guns in the console.
A blast of cold air makes me grip my leather jacket tighter around my middle when I get out of the car. Traffic is heavy, so we wait before crossing the road. Max slips my hand into his as if I need help, pulling me with him into the alley and never letting go. His palm is sweating as much as mine, but he doesn’t feel like he’s shaking like my muscles are, anticipating that danger could lurk around any corner. Like the bear he is, he charges full speed ahead into the ebony void.
Eventually, my eyes adjust until I can spot a large man with a rotund gut hanging over his dress pants standing halfway down the alley. He waves us forward as if we’re wasting his time. Once we reach him, he patsboth of us down halfheartedly before opening the solid metal door. Maybe I could have sneaked in my gun. A narrow wooden staircase leads to a lower level and creaks with ominous tones with every step. Only one lone lightbulb hangs from the ceiling, swinging as the door closes behind us. It feels as if we’re being led into a trap.
At the bottom, Max guides us along a dark, narrow hallway until we reach another metal door with his big paw surrounding mine. He turns to me, asking what we should do, but I shrug. With his free fist, he knocks, the sounds resounding through a large room on the other side. The vibrations mimic the pounds of my heart wildly beating in my chest.
Another big guy, this one older, opens the door and turns to walk away without a word. We follow him into a small, dark alcove filled with curls of smoke. The area is set up as an office without windows, just dark masonry walls. White puffs from a cigar billow off fluorescent lights as they waft near them, bouncing around the low-beamed ceilings and back to us, the sweet smell reminding me briefly of Franklin, my father.
A portly man with a shiny bald head and thick gray mustache sits behind a large wooden desk, leaning on his elbows with his hands clasped together. Holding up his double chin with both index fingers, he gives us a small grin as we enter. A crystal ashtray with pointed ends sits near the edge of his desk. Maybe it could be a weapon if things get hairy; otherwise, I see no escape and no other choices. Max could definitely take the man behind us, and I canoutrun this one.
“Come in, come in. Mr. Freidenberg, Miss Von Dovish. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He lowers his hands to wave them at the two wooden chairs across from the desk. The entire place looks like it was just set up for tonight’s encounter, temporary, not a usual meeting place for them. “Please. Have a seat.”