HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ^^^^ THAT GIRL UP THERE!!!!!!!!
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
I decided against option one and two. Option one: running straight and to the right for my gun. Option two: running diagonally to get to my gun.
Neither option held much appeal to me. So I went with option three. Option three occurred only after the fact that I was currently mid air, diving low to the ground, and collided with my clothing and the ground moments later. I reached for my gun, blindly but knowingly, and dove back to Diego.
My left hand made contact with his body while my right hand clung to my gun securely. I turned my body just as I was coming down and as I did, I held onto Diego’s arm tightly, pulling him with me in my rolling stop.
With him clinging onto my body closely, and my right arm holding him even tighter; I used my left hand as leverage to vault myself over the marble counter top. I landed lightly on the other side and kept low as I jogged down the isle, using the the counter as a shield from the melee of bullets raging over head.
Loud shouts varying from “Move! Move! Move!”, “Drop your weapon!”, “Get down!”, “Put your hands in the air!”, and many more shouted demands all lead by the cavalry of Kevlared men.
“Where do you think you're going, Loba?” a husky Mexican accent hissed.
I froze, turning my shoulder forward, shielding Diego with my body, and away from the man with a LeMat Revolver. Odd. Unusual to carry around, and used mainly in the American Civil War era. The gun holds nine revolving chambers and a center shotgun barrel firing lead shot. Sleek black, obviously polished. Also, obviously old.
What separated this type of revolver from most was the nine revolving chambers instead of the usual six. Which is where the nickname Six-Shooter comes from when regarding a revolver.
Still a gun.
Still dangerous.
No matter the make and model.
“She-wolf. Appropriate. Especially in comparison in likes of what I’ll do to you if you don’t let us by.” I growled as I hid my gun in between mine and Diego's body while my other hand pressed into the back of his head as he buried his face between my shoulder and neck.
Laughter.
He actually had the audacity to laugh at me. The rove of his eyes over my half-bare body, was more of a sizing me up, challenging way than actually checking me out, though a sense of appreciation crossed his expression as he finished his roaming.
How could he not? I was, embarrassing as it is, in my most revealing lingerie.
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Cruel Intentions
Teen FictionCopyright © 2012 Sequel to Revenge Never Tasted So Sweet. Lies, Deception, Misunderstandings, but most importantly: Revenge. After a few months spent in a coma, Liv comes to find that everything she went through was for nothing, and that in fact Ma...