Gunsmith Part 4 Novels & Stories

Your mom seems nice. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> "She's good. Yeah." Gunner stood abruptly, abandoning the shot he was about to take, and leaned his cue against the table, expression tighter than it had been only moments ago. "Imma get a drink," he mumbled, moving already, eyes locked on the bar across the room. "You want something?" _*]:min-w-0 gap-3">

‎ ‎ ‎The muscles on my face tightened immediately, as I narrowed my eyes waiting for the complete speech, he dipped his hand into his open drawer, ‎ ‎ ‎my heart raced slightly at the sight of the metallic silver gun laying flat in the drawer. ‎ ‎ ‎Then he paused, long enough to allow my eyes settle on the piece of firearm. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎i chuckled. ‎ ‎ ‎"—that's a Glock 19 Mr Hosea." beautiful gun I bet you didn't even know it had a name. ‎ ‎ ‎"—hm, best of it's kind." Mr Hosea sneered. clutching the silver metal tightly now. with a conquering smirk dangling on the sides of his lips

I meet his gaze and try to ignore how my heart leaps with him standing so close to me. The wing of a hawk tattoo peeks out from the bottom of his t-shirt sleeve, adorning those ripped biceps. I swallow in a dry throat. “Yeah...if I can fix a CB radio, I think I can manage to pull a trigger.” Grayson nods. “All right, tuck it away in your bag there.” I obey, sticking the Glock securely between the folds of my blanket.

The muzzle pointed toward the floor. I released my grip. The shotgun hit the concrete with a loud clang. The sound echoed throughout the foundry. I raised my hands, my palms facing outward. My strike guards did the same. One by one, they lowered their rifles. The red laser dots disappeared from Devereux's vest.

When I knocked on the wood, it had a shallow sound. I smirked and pulled up the thin plank of one of the drawers and saw a familiar gun. A Colt .45 pistol government model. "He's a cop," I muttered. Ross turned to me with a frown and saw the gun in my hands. "Why the hell have the LVMPD not learned their lesson yet? They can't catch us," he rebuked. I checked the other drawer too but there weren't more hidden compartments. "Should we use their spy and teach them a lesson?"

The man I'd crippled was gamely bringing his QCW/Type-05 to bear on me, so I put a round into his face. Mr. River Dance earned my final round into his respirator as he tried to sit up. Whoops; left my Glock behind and I doubted my .380 could cut the mustard against their body armor. Axes it was, proving I was an amateur. To prove they were professionals, the hanging man flipped out a blade, cut his noose and landed facing me. His remaining companion turned to face me as well.

“Fine. You want in, you’re in.” They went to the armory room in the back of the club. Metal shelves lined with firearms, ammunition, and knives gleamed in the low light. Amy’s fingers skimmed along the collection before she pulled down a polished Colt 1911 and a snub-nosed revolver. Isadora grinned and took her favorites — a black Beretta M1951 and a sawed-off shotgun with a worn leather strap. “You ever notice,” Isadora said as she checked the Beretta’s magazine, “that people like us never really retire?”

He was good with computers, so he was assigned to hacking when they needed information. "Here, take this with you." JD handed her a gun. It was small enough to fit in the leg holster she was wearing. Gigi exhaled before accepting the gun. She checked if it was loaded. The gun was a 5-shot Smith and Wesson Ladysmith. Gigi placed it inside the holster strapped to her leg. Her legs were exposed as she inserted it. Tyron whistled when her legs were revealed to her teammates.

Garin nodded as she spoke, trying to rub feeling back into his feet. "How are we going to get out of this?" he asked a bullet ricocheted off the tree next to him. Willow roared again, the sound shook Garin's ribcage. Audrey pushed something cold and metallic into his hand. He looked down. It was his old handgun, a 357 Desert Eagle. "Do you still know how to shoot this?" she asked, pulling her own gun from her hip. He snorted derisively. "I'll manage," he replied popping out the magazine. Full. He pushed it back in with a satisfying click.

I heard behind me and saw Jack joining us, Miguel got out of the car and looked proud with his work, and I entirely understood, I loved the thing already and I had just seen it. "Alright, Jake take the minigun and follow me, Jack and Derk get in, we're gonna leave in about twenty minutes," Miguel said, climbing into the bed of the truck, he unlocked a gate inside it and pointed to a section of the area that was about a foot in width and told me to stick the barrel of the gun through it. I did so until the base of the barrel was touching the slit, and Miguel started screwing the gun onto a swivel mount, closing the hatch again he explained how the thing worked, what it was made of, and a bunc