Concealed Carry Bible Case Novels & Stories

She looked like she was dreaming. I touched her cheek, and murmured, “You're safe. You hear me? No matter what happens out there, you're safe.” I kissed her forehead. Then I moved to the front, flipped a hidden switch behind the glovebox, and the SUV locked down, bulletproof plating engaged, windows tinting black. I slammed the door shut, rounded the car and popped open the trunk. A long case rested there. I unbuckled it and flipped it open. Inside was a short-barrel AR-15 with a suppressor. Dual Glock 19s with extended mags. Tactical knives. Flashbangs. A sawed-off Remington, just for fun.

"Personal preference at this point. Whatever is most comfortable for the user. Automatic will usually hold more bullets, but revolvers are usually easier for you to load and get accustomed to. You're not planning on getting into a shoot out, so six bullets is probably plenty. "Make sure you follow state laws regarding carrying and concealment. It will take up to ninety days to get a concealed carry permit, but anyone can have a firearm in their house. Lucia has a concealed weapons permit, good for a 9 MM or .38 caliber handgun. She can carry if you have to leave the house. She's been well trained in self defense. It was part of her therapy in overcoming her fear of men. If you wish to practi

Sienna The suffocating silence of the bar seemed to press down on my chest like a physical weight, making it incredibly hard to draw a full breath. I slowly pulled my hand back out of the hidden compartment beneath the dark marble counter, my knuckles scraping lightly against the wood of the interior frame. Wrapped securely in my trembling fingers wasn't a stash of unmarked cash, a black ledger, or a modern weapon. It was just a book. A thick, heavy, dust-jacketed volume that had been tucked away into the hollowed-out space of the bar.

Before he had left, he’d gone into the one place in the mansion no one else knew about—a private room hidden during the construction of the house, camouflaged behind a wall panel in his study. The room had no windows, just shelves of metal cases, weapons, and a single workbench. Devon had unlocked a case, removed a polished black pistol, and loaded it with practiced hands. He slid it into the holster at the small of his back, hidden under a dark jacket. The hand grenade went into the inner breast pocket of that same jacket, positioned so his fingers could find it in seconds if needed. This was the part of his life he had buried, the skills he had tried to forget. Now, they were all he had.

“The same way you’re all watching me now. Confidence is louder than any weapon, Supervisor. And I knew exactly how to use it.” Someone behind Judah muttered, “Damn.” Another agent, McCoy, leaned forward, testing her. “What were his guards carrying?” “Two had Glock 19s. One had a concealed ankle piece, likely a Sig Sauer P365. The fourth had a limp—recent hip surgery or a poorly fitted holster. He was slow on the draw. I made sure to sit facing him.” Judah nearly choked on his water. “Jesus,” Rollins whispered. Trenholm, trying to keep his composure, nodded. “You picked all that up during dinner?”

“Good eye. That’s a Ruger LCR. It’s small, compact, clean and one of the simplest to use. That’s a type of gun I’d give a woman like yourself for protection.” He takes it out the case, checks the chamber to make sure it’s empty and hands it to me. I take it in my hand and admire the cool metal against my fingers. It was lightweight, sleek and so small that it would be easy to hide. I go to hand it back to Tony but I see he’s put an array of items on the counter. I see a small gun case, a box of bullets, a cleaning kit, and strap to conceal the gun on your thigh. “This look like everything, Mason?” He asks casually.

I prefer my Glock. We head upstairs and Moon gives me the combination to a large hidden gun safe that's behind one of the bookcases. "I'll have 9mm rounds and magazines placed in here too. I carry a .45 and so does Alex, so we've never had use for the smaller rounds up here."

I whispered. I allowed the silence to draw a bit longer. Neither of us said anything. --- When Morgan left to join Mack and Rowe for the emergency strategy meeting, I remained behind. I knew what the others would say. They’d want countermeasures. Patrols. Drones. Firepower. But what we needed was finality. I unlocked the steel drawer beneath the cabinet and retrieved a sealed case. Inside, cushioned in velvet, was a custom .45 I hadn’t touched in years. Beside it, one bullet. Hollow point. Engraved with a serial number known only to me.

“Inside. Both of you.” We ducked into a nearby safehouse, the warmth hitting like a slap. Roman dropped the case onto the table, snapping the latches open. Inside was… not what I expected. It wasn’t weapons. It wasn’t explosives. It was a thick, leather-bound book — old, the edges charred and curling. Kellen frowned. “All that trouble for a book?” Roman’s face stayed unreadable, but his eyes… there was something there. Something I didn’t like.

She let out a shaky breath, "But seeing as we’re stranded in the middle of goddamn nowhere, I guess I’m just supposed to sit here and tough it out, right?" I swallowed hard, without saying a word, I turned on my heel, walking toward the bedroom without a backward glance. I pushed open the door to the bedroom. At the foot of the bed, I knelt, pushing aside the rug to reveal a small, concealed compartment in the floorboards. Inside was a matte black case, no bigger than a laptop, secured with a fingerprint lock. My hand hovered over it for a moment as I swiped my thumb across the sensor. The case clicked open with a soft hiss, revealing a sleek, untraceable satellite phone—custom-built, encryp