The Briefcase In Pulp Fiction Novels & Stories

All alone, for as long as I could remember. Considering everything that had happened, I suppose what came next was inevitable. I grabbed my shirt and wiped my face. Glanced up and saw them, arranged in orderly piles on shelves under the sales counter. Hand guns. Pistols. Old revolvers and a few shotguns. I didn’t know what kind of pawn shop sells used guns. Didn’t know if it was legal, or if they had to do background checks or anything, or if they needed a license to sell them. But I was getting the idea by then, you understand, that no license existed for what Handy’s sold, and there they were. Hand guns, pistols, revolvers, shot guns and some rifles, all stacked neatly. And of course, sitt

He set it down on the table between Chelsea and Stone. "Open it" Stone instructed in a grave voice. "Yes, Boss" he respectfully replied. He turned the briefcase to himself and began working on unlocking the combinations on it. In less than a minute he was done. He looked up to Stone, awaiting further instructions. "Show it to her" Stone's instruction came. The man turned the briefcase to Chelsea. He opened it and revealed its contents. Chelsea's eyes immediately fell on the inside of the briefcase. Freshly minted dollar notes entered her vision, stimulating her craving senses. She hadn't seen much cash since she was with Ceaza.

But as I reached for the bottom of my bag, a sudden, intrusive thought popped into my head, making my hands freeze. The briefcase. It was sitting right there on the closet shelf, completely unguarded. My heart began to pound a frantic rhythm against my ribs as a dangerous wave of adrenaline surged through my veins. Being close to him for these five days was supposed to be my golden opportunity to act like a real detective. Maybe, just maybe there might be something incredibly valuable or incriminating hidden inside his briefcase if I checked right now. Anxiety tore at my gut, but my determination won. I quickly finished throwing my empty suitcase to the side, grabbed his heavy leather briefc

He pulled it on fast, the soft material whispered against his damp skin. I watched really closely from the bed. My body still felt warm and sticky between my legs from everything we just did. My nipples stayed hard in the cool air. My chest rose and fell with each breath. He took a loaded briefcase from a side table, handed it right over to the doctor. It probably was loaded with cash. The case made a heavy thud as it changed hands. "You really are as good as they say," Charles said in a deep voice. He lay his hand on him firmly as he bid him goodbye with a strong pat on the shoulder. That must be the end of their deal.

True to his words, the driver rang my doorbell at eight and false to my sayings, I was dressed and ready to get this over with. I was actually stoked to see how this would turn out and then I would go back to cursing and hating him. My pepper spray was safely tucked in my purse and my nunchucks were strapped to my back. Just kidding about the nunchucks I locked my apartment door and followed the driver and slipped into the car through the door he held open, the leather seat feeling cool against my clammy skin.

he shouted, clearly unsure of Florian's intentions but wary of his sheer presence. I struggled to maintain my composure as sweat beaded on my forehead. The pain in my arm was excruciating, and the silver continued to burn my skin with relentless intensity. Florian, seeing my distress, stopped in the middle of the bridge. His expression hardened as he observed the gun against my temple, the awkward angle of my arm, the silver cuffs around my wrists. Carefully, he placed the briefcase on the ground and opened it, revealing its contents. "Gold bars," he said, his voice carrying across the distance with calm authority. "It's full. Let her go."

In the service hall a second man ghosts the first with a breaching kit he hides like a bouquet. Bruce pulls the shotgun from the credenza that pretends to be a piece of antique furniture and is actually a weapons cache. He tosses me the small pistol he hates. I’m suddenly grateful for the shooting lessons Asher forced on me. The door shudders once, twice, then puffs splinters like breath. The first man steps in high, expecting panic. Bruce gives him physics instead. One close boom turns bravado into meat and sets the second man down on a knee he thought he’d keep. The third comes slick from the stairwell, low and mean, a knife catching the hallway light.

Ethan muttered, wiping a cut on his knuckle. "Ethan..." I choked out. I wasn't looking at the men on the floor. I wasn't looking at the burned desk. I was looking toward the far corner of the room, near the private sleeping quarters. A third man was standing there in the shadows, holding a black leather briefcase in one hand and a heavy suppressed pistol in the other. But he wasn't looking at Ethan. He was pointing the gun directly at my chest. And in his free hand, resting on top of the briefcase, was a second, unburned folder stamped with a red seal I had never seen before.

Shadow closed his eyes and sigh, even if he sees the disk he won't be able to supsect him. He watch Mr Luis take out the cash from the briefcase, after he emptied it, he pushed it aside and start to go through the remaining balance. He was sure the money was complete, then he drew the briefcase closer and start to put them back. He continued until his hands touch something in the briefcase, he lift the money up and pulled out a disk "How did this get in here? Did you put it inside?" He asked.

We was well dressed, every hair in place, but his eyes seemed to glow orange. “Who are you and how did you get in here?” Jake sat up, not even caring he was naked. “What the hell do you mean wrong briefcase? That’s the only one there was.” “That was not the right briefcase. That isn’t what I am looking for. I am looking for the other one.” The dark man scowled, raising a brow. “Which is lucky for you, since you tried to rip me off with counterfeit bills.”