Pocketbook Crossbody Novels & Stories

Azize nodded and went quiet, but I felt her presence, so she didn't go far. Rose was crying, covering her face with her hands, which allowed me to look around the room for her carefully protected backpack. I found it nearby, open with its contents scattered. I didn't want to look through it without her consent, but something told me it was better not to wait until she woke up from her episode. I slowly began to move towards the backpack. With a heavy heartbeat, I noticed that, in addition to literally a few personal items, there was also a thick leather notebook embossed with the Larch Groove Pack crest and a small pencil drawing that made my whole body tremble.

38lb with a 15+1 capacity, it’s definitely my gun of choice. I take out my beauty and start loading it. Once ready to go. I strap my gun holster to my thigh and strap in my gun. I grab Crimson who is now clean as a whistle and strap her on the other side of the holster, then adjust my skirt. I place the burner phones in my black handbag, and I am ready for action. “That’s what you’re wearing?” Marcel asks with a concerned frown. “Yes. What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I ask curiously as I look myself over.

His hands tightened on my waist, thumbs digging in just enough to leave faint marks. We left the suite hand-in-hand. I carried only a small crossbody bag—phone, lip gloss, key card. Killian had his wallet, phone, and nothing else. He’d insisted: “You don’t need anything else today. Everything you want is on me.” The resort town’s upscale strip was a short walk—palm-lined, open-air shops with white canopies fluttering in the breeze, ocean scent mixing with coffee and fresh flowers. The first boutique was all flowing fabrics: silk, linen, chiffon in every shade of sunset and sea.