Loose Cannon Book Mga Nobela at Kwento

I asked my Eliza "The cannons are like long stone tunnels with only one side open; the top side. They sit on a pair of wheels and that's how the men can move it. It is incredibly heavy and large. It can move in any direction, whether it is east, Northeast…south…any way you want. Then there is the object called the cannonball that you shoot out at the enemy. The cannon gets ignited with fire and…off it goes. Quite interesting really." Eliza gushes it all out to us, spilling every bean in the bag while Little Sea takes notes on the papyrus. " I have something to say too " Iron coyote girl talk and I nodded in response!

A musty scent mixed with sweat? Looking down at my body, I am wearing an almost sheer-like tunic, dyed in red, fully covering my body. I can barely view my nipples and the outline of my vagina through the fabric. On my feet are sandals, reminding me of what the ancient Romans used to wear. Uh? Without warning, the door bursts open, and a man stumbles in. "You ready whore? Because I am," he slurs while undressing my body with eyes. The man is drunk and is having trouble taking his toga off his body.

The Fall of the leader :) So, yes, there is a book three coming, I HAVE NO IDEA WHEN as I will now be working on book 3 of the Kinky CEO series :) Keeps your eyes peeled for: The Rise Of The New Biker Queen: The Outlaw Chronicles: Book Three.

He underestimated me. “I have information that will interest you boss.” He quickly said. He must’ve noticed my hand lingering on the gun beside me. “What makes you think I want to listen to you?” I raised my eyebrow. “Everyone in the underground is talking about it. A book.” He takes a deep breath, “There’s a book that has all the secrets of all the gangs in the city. Even that of El Alma.” The mere mention of the top mafia group in Chicago grabs my attention. Even though it was mostly non-existent and hidden, El Alma remained the biggest mafia group to ever exist. It’s been around since my father was still a boy.

A half-smoked cigarette dangled between my fingers, the glow between my curled, stiff fingers the only warmth in the dimly lit sala. I took another long drag, letting the smoke sear into my lungs before slowly blowing it out. My head was a battle zone, images of deception flashing like gunfire: Victor and his sneer, poisoned wine, and the audacity of men who believed they were more clever than me—better or more worthy of what I’d earned in blood and steel. The business world was a more deadly version of an unloaded pistol with the safety off. Deals sealed with a handshake could explode like grenades. Survival was more than just pulling a trigger; it meant knowing when to pull it, who to aim

“Wow. Must be nice to have tits. Those things reduce you to a fucking marshmallow, I swear.” I didn’t answer, because sadly, what he said was true. It was almost impossible for me to say no to a girl. Grumbling under his breath, Cannon ran his hands over his dark, shaved head and then looked at me. Just looked at me in disappointment, as if he knew there was no way to change me. I kicked at a leaf on the ground. “Go ahead and say it,” I prompted. “I know you want to.” “You just started a war,” he announced, shaking his head. “We only had a few weeks left to put up with this fucker until the end of the season. That’s it. Weeks. And you just started a fucking war with him.”

Cannon walks out, a deadly smirk forming on his thin lips, eyes changing into red before taking their original golden color. "You never learn, how foolish!" Cannon said coldly, his casual mood was long gone as the atmosphere became heavy and hot. He didn't like the fact they made him break his promise to his bunny over useless matters. "Only a fool will hide behind a rock for protection rather than fighting heads on" Black Gun snorts, meeting Cannon's hard glare. "Hope you are ready? Cause on this day, you will journey yourself back to where you came from and Audrey, that little bunny of yours will be mine to devour and fuck" Wendigo whines excitedly.

he said conversationally, "words are tools. And sometimes, a tool gets in the way of the message. We're going to improve your vocabulary." Without another word, he grabbed the man's jaw, forcing his mouth open. The man struggled as a muffled cry escaped his throat. But Zandrei's grip was like iron. He ignored the thrashing, keeping his focus absolute. He carefully selected one of the man's front teeth, a bloody incisor already loosened by a prior beating. He positioned the cold steel of the pliers around its base. "Let's start with the consonants," Zandrei whispered, his voice a chilling caress.

His shaking hands poked the metal tip into the vent hole, rammed it down again and again, trying to breach the cannon’s powder charge—airtight, compact, the gunpowder as fresh as the day it was last loaded—the charge he hoped was still there, like that retired history-buff Navy prick Jack Lawrie always claimed it was. If need ever be. The police chief discarded the pried-open hanger and brushed snow out of his hair. He slid a folded sheaf of typewriter paper from his back pocket and rolled it up as tight as he could for his touch-paper, stuffing one end all the way down into the vent hole at the back of the old Civil War cannon until it stopped. He took out a lighter and began flicking it. “