Concealed Carry Bible Case Novels & Stories

“You’ve been carrying it around like it contains state secrets.” Noah’s jaw tightened. “Give it back.” Chase tilted his head slightly, eyes dropping to the case again. “What’s in it?”

Nobody answered me and I was back to sulking. Don held the briefcase in his hand and opened it. My eyes rose in awe, the briefcase contained lots of portable weapons. I could make out daggers with different sizes and structure, some handguns and a rifle, chains, and a shock hook. Elijah picked up one of the handguns and a dagger, he moved to the table and pulled out the chair.

I lower the gun, engaging the safety with a click before turning to face him. Dominik is wearing a black t-shirt that strains across his chest and dark jeans. He looks like a mercenary. He looks like war personified. And he’s looking at me with that heavy, lidded gaze that makes my knees weak. "I want to carry it," I say. "In my purse. Or a holster if it won’t be too obvious." "I’ve already ordered you three custom holsters," he replies with a grin. "Thigh, shoulder and waist. I vote for thigh most of the time. Your gun license allows for concealed carry in your purse."

Other doors led to a bedroom and a small bathroom with a shower cubicle. Overall the place was spartan and simple, but it had several home comforts, ranging from a unit with several hundred DVD's in it, a couple of laptop computers and a bookcase full of classics. In the security room there was a couple of cabinets, and Connor found the keys in a drawer. The first contained a selection of pistols, shotguns and rifles, along with ammo, body armour, torches, batteries and a pair of night-vision goggles. The other cabinet contained cases and cases of DVD's, each marked with a serial number.

The only clue she had were those men with barcodes and the only place she had seen that mark before was in New York. Now, though, she couldn’t help but think that her journey to her home town would be in vain—apparently, those men were here too. And they had a bone to pick with her. She was also very aware that she no longer had her backpack. She was twisted with anxiety if they looked through her bag. Noah’s would be fine, but hers? She had much more than weapons in there. The small black leather book tucked safely in its pockets offered so much power. It was her one way of feeling like the world was right again.

The suitcase on the bed was small, discreet, black. Inside, there were no clothes. There was enough for a war: three extra magazines for the Nachtkönigin, a case of carbon steel blades, a first aid kit with bandages and coagulants, two thermal camouflage devices the size of cigarette packs, and the biodegradable bullets — green, translucent, lethal. Each one a poem of silent destruction. Each one, my signature. My body still vibrated with the memory of Aurora, her scent on my skin, her taste in my mouth. But the beast was being set aside. Now, the strategist was speaking.

We waited in our car in the silence, soon the man who ran to catch the van came out of the man, for some reason I had a strong feeling that he can give us a name or an important information. Reaching beneath the seat, my fingers grazed the cool metal of my pistol. I gripped it firmly, its weight giving me a sense of reassurance. Slowly, I pulled it out from its hidden spot. I tucked the pistol into the waistband of my jeans, ensuring it was secure and easily accessible. It nestled against my hip, a constant reminder of the responsibility I bore for my own safety. Next, my attention turned to my shoes. With nimble fingers, I reached down and retrieved a slim, razor-sharp knife from a conceale

They were locked on the darkness between. So much had changed in a year.His jaw clenched. Fingertips curled around the windowsill. His gaze dropped to the reflection in the glass—his own eyes staring back, hollowed by pain, sharpened by purpose. Behind him, a soft click echoed as a hidden panel slid open in the wall. A black leather case rested inside, the symbol of a phoenix embossed in silver. He opened it slowly. Inside lay a custom silenced pistol, a steel wristwatch embedded with encrypted comms tech, and a folded photograph—edges worn, but preserved like treasure.

Then we make our move. Javier’s hand shifted slightly to his belt. The backup piece he was always carrying in a concealed holster just above the small of his back. The one Felipe's boys had overlooked when they frisk-searched him because it was a hide that amateurs couldn't help but miss on someone who was a pro at hiding weapons. Felipe was distracted. Liking his new formula on his phone. Making plans for his empire. Sending messages to people. Not watching us carefully enough. His soldiers took a more relaxed posture, as the immediate danger appeared to have passed.

Specifically, to his chest. Ben froze. He hugged the briefcase tighter. "No." "Ben," I stepped forward. "The briefcase." "Absolutely not!" Ben took a step back, slipping on the ice. "This is a genuine Stirling Executive Attache Case! Hand-stitched crocodile skin from the pre-war Florida swamps! Reinforced titanium frame! Lead-lined privacy shielding! It was a gift from my grandfather when I passed the CPA exam!" "It’s lead-lined?" I asked, my eyes lighting up. "Perfect. That will shield the radiation triggers until it hits the magma."