Pocketbook Crossbody Novels & Stories

And the waterproof pouch. The amulet rests inside it, the wolf’s eye gleaming even in the dim light. I don't touch it. Not yet. Below it, the note that was left with me as a baby. Faded and creased from how many times I’ve read it. And the cash—still a little over $3,400 left. It feels like so much and not nearly enough at the same time. I press my palm over the pouch and zip the bag shut. There’s still plenty of room left. Enough for some lightweight food. Protein bars, crackers, peanut butter, bottled water. And maybe a thing of muscle rub if I can find it. Something to help when the ache in my legs and shoulders refuses to quiet.

My sunlight. "Ready?" Her voice was calm, but her knuckles were white where she gripped the strap of her small backpack. Inside, I knew, nestled beside water and energy bars, was the compact Glock 26 I’d insisted she carry. My own Beretta M9 was a familiar, heavy reassurance against my ribs beneath my jacket.

Two flashlights, one big and one small, the big one also serves as an electric cone for her self-defense. Another collapsible iron shovel. A straw hat covered in dirt. A pair of Nike sneakers. A pair of camouflage climbing pants. A freshly gnawed piece of bread had been flattened. Two portable chargers, N batteries. When the policeman saw her pull out something more, his eyelids twitched, and when he finally saw her take out her wallet, he breathed a sigh of relief. He looked very upset, this backpack doesn't look big, how can it be stuffed with so many things?

Unobtrusive. She pulled it out and began packing with systematic precision. Two changes of clothes. Comfortable. Easy to move in. Underwear. Socks. A jacket that didn't look expensive but was warm. Toiletries in travel sizes. The small amount of cash she had saved from household allowances over the years, folded flat in a zippered compartment. Her passport, expired but still valid identification. The notebook. A phone charger—though she had no phone now, she would need it later.

I said. "And the outside pocket," he said. "For the survey notebook." "Yes," I said. He looked at the sketch. He touched the outside pocket drawing. "Flat so it doesn't bulk," he said. "Yes," I said. "So I can tell what page I'm on without taking it out," he said. I looked at him. "Can you?" I said. "I can feel the page through the cover," he said. "If the pocket is flat enough." He paused. "The current coat has a round bottom pocket. The notebook gets lost in it."

She stops because she finally has a decent idea. The convenience store smells like burned coffee, wet pavement, and stale hot dogs. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead while old country music crackles softly through cheap speakers. Nobody looks twice at her. Good. She keeps her head down and grabs only what she needs: a cheap hoodie. jeans. sneakers. a small canvas crossbody bag. Lightweight. Durable. Adjustable. June studies it carefully. It'll work in wolf form. Good. Cat slips into the cramped bathroom near the back of the store.

Face stripped bare of everything except hostility. He didn’t hide the bag. He finished zipping the pocket and turned. “Securing your gear,” he said evenly. She crossed the distance in three sharp strides and yanked the strap from his hands. “I know how to pack a bag, Blackwood,” she hissed. “I survived New York. I survived you. I don’t need you pawing through my things like a servant.” “It’s not about capability,” Kael replied. His hands lifted slowly. Open. Nonthreatening. “That pocket is insulated. If the temperature drops, the jade won’t fracture. Neither will the flares.”

Gideon nodded and he walks around the store and me just following him. He inspected all the bags and even the clothes. I also browse their product with no interest but one wallet caught my attention it is a bright blue folded wallet. It is really simple no designs or whatever. As I look inside the glass case I suddenly recoiled when I saw the price.

a soft and gentle voice suddenly sounded. Sage looked up and saw Abby, who wore a crossbody bag with a cat in it. Unlike her usual doll-like and delicate outfits, Abby was dressed in loose and casual sportswear today, as if she was out for a night jog with her cat.

He glanced longingly at the water. “This day is so lovely…” Mackenzie kicked off her sandals, untied her sarong, then spread it on the sand. After digging in her bag, she extracted a small wallet. “Can you carry this for me? I don’t have any pockets.” Wyatt swept his gaze over her scant attire… A few scraps of fabric held together with string. No, she didn’t have any pockets. But she had a lot of things he wanted… His pulse raced but he held out his hand.