The Gun Runner(11)

I thought of Cap’s incident at the gas station and laughed to myself. “I protect my interest with war veterans. They’re trained in reacting to such situations.”

He sighed and lowered his head. After a long moment, he raised his chin and met my gaze. “Consider it. Our strength is our reputation. There are benefits. We’d insure your shipments against loss.”

I laughed. “You’d insure my shipments?”

He shrugged. “How’s that for confidence?”

I stood and extended my hand. “Well, that’s nice to know, but I haven’t had a problem yet, and I don’t anticipate one in the future. I appreciate the offer. If things change, maybe we’ll talk again in the future.”

I had no intention of meeting with him again, but was trying to be as considerate as possible.

He stood, shook my hand and glanced around the office. “Nice office. And what a great location.”

“I appreciate it,” I said with a slight nod. “And thanks for taking time to meet.”

“Minimizing your loss is maximizing profit,” he said.

“Again, I appreciate it, but I haven’t got loss issues.”

He brushed the wrinkles from his pants. “The future. You never know what the future holds. Have a nice evening, Mr. Tripp.”

It wasn’t a threat, but I perceived it as one.

The Italian who confronted Cap, the two Italians meandering into my office, and the Italian mafia boss’s visit left me with a desire to get even with the Italian race for their having disrupted my life.

Fucking Terra was the first thing that came to mind as a means to resolve the issue.

I wasn’t there yet, but in time I hoped to be. And when that time came, all I could do was pray she was prepared for what I was sure to unleash.





Chapter Five

Terra

I wasn’t in the habit of going on dates, but the change was more than welcomed. The differences between the personalities of Michael and Vincent were vast, and although I hated comparing Michael to anyone, doing so seemed to happen nonetheless.

Tucked away a few miles from the well-known and overpopulated eateries of downtown, the restaurant we were in was an upscale establishment with a lower-level dining area that included a jazz bar. Me being somewhere my father would never go was important, and as I had no previous knowledge of the restaurant’s existence, I doubted my father did either.

After our meal we sat and drank wine while soft jazz filled the air. A far cry from the Netflix and blow jobs I was used to, I savored each minute as it passed, hoping the night would last forever. Three glasses of wine into the evening, and I was half-drunk, horny and appreciative of Michael’s existence in my life.

“So this isn’t something you normally do?” I asked.

Our eyes met, and he chuckled as he reached for his wine. “I haven’t been on a date in over ten years.”

His response was surprising and I found more comfort in it than I probably should have. “Ten years? Really?”

“Maybe eleven.” His eyes drifted off to the side. “Yeah, it’s been eleven.”

“Wow. That’s a long time. Why so long?”

I raised my glass of wine and took a drink while I waited for his response.

“Well, I was fighting in a war for ten of those years. And, I don’t know. Like I told you that night in the coffee shop, I never found much value in being in a relationship. I knew I’d never last in one, so there was no sense in lying to anyone by going out on a date.”

I lowered my glass. The effects of the wine were apparent. “Casual sex?”

He pushed his glass to the side and grinned. “Is there such a thing?”

His calm demeanor, handsome looks and the bravado he naturally exhibited made it difficult to be in his presence and act like a complete adult. I wanted to reach under the table with my foot and rub his cock.

I licked my lips. “I think so. You know, sex without a relationship. Friends with benefits, or just a casual hookup or whatever.”

His face contorted as if I’d suggested he commit murder. “Don’t believe in it. If I stick my dick in someone, regardless of the arrangement, feelings follow. To think two people can fuck and not have at least one of them eventually develop feelings for the other isn’t wishful thinking, it’s foolish.”

I agreed totally with what he said. It came as a surprise to hear a man say it, though. I finished my wine and wished I had more. “So, you’ve never had casual sex? No hookups? Not once?”

He shook his head. “Never have, never will.”

“So you haven’t had sex in eleven years?” I couldn’t comprehend it. In fact, it seemed impossible for anyone but an invalid or maybe a quadriplegic.