“Ever use anything like this?” he asked. While there was nothing leading in his tone, I couldn’t help but think that my time here was coming to an end, a bloody end.
I shook my head. “Told you I learned to shoot handguns at a target range. I’ve never been near anything like that, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“You disappoint me, Son. Thought you’d eye this thing like candy.” He shrugged. “I guess you don’t have the kind of mettle that goes with a weapon like this.”
He was goading me, but I kept my cool. “Don’t know if it has anything to do with my mettle. I’ve just never had a need to fire a million rounds of ammo.”
He laughed. It was never a pleasant sound. “A million? Shit, when they invent that gun then the human race will be over.”
“So, what are you planning to do with that thing?” I asked it with an edge of humor to convince him that none of this meant anything to me.
Gunner’s eyes widened as Dreygon lifted up the gun and gazed at it as if he was holding a fine sculpture. “Revolution. There are plenty of people out there who would pay top dollar for this weapon. Tired of putting bread on the tables of two-bit drug dealers. Going a more lucrative route this time. I’m a business man, and if I don’t make a living, no one in this compound eats.” He looked at me now, but it was impossible to read his thoughts. “Including you.”
“Hey, I’m all for good business and making money.” It was all the opinion I could muster for him. I turned to leave hoping he’d let me escape.
“Don’t you want to fire it a few rounds?” he called before I reached the door.
“Not really interested. I prefer a handgun.” Again, I tried to leave.
“Fucking my granddaughter is turning you into a pussy whipped marshmallow.” I cringed at his words. He was prodding me into something, but I wasn’t sure what. He knew damn well that bringing Angel up in the conversation would get to me and it had. I had to consciously relax my fingers. They badly wanted to curl into fists.
He watched me for a reaction.
I put on my poker face. “Yeah, I guess it has.”
He lowered the weapon but not without first pointing it at each of us. Max’s eyes bulged and Gunner held his breath. “I think you’ve had enough of Angel today. I need you for more important things than entertaining my granddaughter. Besides, it’s only going to make it that much harder when she goes off to marry.”
The old man was full of acid today. As rage seethed beneath the surface, I kept my exterior cool. For some reason, the bastard had decided to test me, and this time he did it without stringing me up in his dungeon. This time he was messing with my head.
“Told you this isn’t the middle ages, Dreygon. You can’t force Angel to marry anyone.”
His thick fingers caressed the butt of the gun tenderly as he grinned at me. “She’s not ever going to be yours, Boy.” He switched to calling me boy when he wanted to make me feel small, but I never felt small in his presence and it drove him nuts.
I didn’t bother to respond. As far as I was concerned, she was already mine. “So are we giving that thing a whirl?” I asked. I figured my acting skills were getting better each day, and if necessary, I could make that weapon look foreign in my hands. But my sudden enthusiasm, along with the heated tension between us, seemed to have changed his mind about handing it over to me.
“Not today,” he said. “We’re going to figure out some pricing. I’ve got a whole shipment of these beauties coming into the compound tomorrow. Jericho and Gunner are driving them in, and I want you to go along and act as a watchman. I need a marksman like you in the back of the truck in case there’s any trouble.” This was how he did things. Once again he would have little connection to the illegal arms. Knowing the way he worked, he’d made sure there was no paperwork to prove anything either.
Dreygon stepped closer to me. The man always reeked of weed and sweat. “How do you feel about that? You on board?” He knew damn well I had no choice but to be. I would play along. For now, it seemed, he had no idea that he was feeding volumes of damning information to a DEA agent.
“I’m on board.” I looked down at the weapon questioningly.
“We’ll get you something smaller but just as deadly. I don’t want to hand you over a submachine gun if you’ve never used one.”
“Right.”
Chapter 2
Luke
4 months earlier
Five of us had gone on the raid, nothing too explosive or earth shattering, just a report of domestic violence in a rundown house on an otherwise not completely shabby street. Several of the men living there had been on our watch list for months, and the 911 call had given us a reason to go inside. Our black SUV pulled up to the curb two houses down, and wrapped in bullet proof vests, we climbed out onto the sidewalk. The quiet street with semi-green lawns and boxy houses transformed into the scene from a video game as we crossed the sidewalk with our Glocks strapped to our thighs and our UMP40’s gripped tightly in our hands.