The Man With The Golden Gun Novel Novels & Stories

I only closed the door, but when I turned to the table, the briefcases were laid open. I was right. Money. That’s a lot. Then they opened the other briefcase. I was right again. Guns I swallowed hard and the man smiled at me. “You choose Mr. Owen…” He pointed his hand to the money… “All of it will be yours if Miss Yuki's novel gets published within this week. She wants to see it in the bookstore and on your site. Otherwise, we’ll have no choice but to…” His smile didn’t waver when he pointed to the gun.

Before he could move, Lucille said icily, "I'd advise you not to do anything rash. You'll be dead meat if I accidentally pull the trigger." He looked down and saw a golden handgun pressed to his waist. He recognized it—it was a Desert Eagle. No, it couldn't be. How could she know how to use a gun? And a golden Desert Eagle at that, too. Lucille didn't miss the doubt in his eyes. She said, "You can choose not to believe me. Why don't you try me and see whether this is the real deal?" She smiled, but her gaze was icy. "It's been a while since my gun's seen blood, and it doesn't mind breaking its drought today. Do you want to give it a shot?"

I held the gun out in front of me, poised and ready to shoot. The man was an absolute god. Golden shimmering hair, cut short, it contrasted with his deep brown eyes. He was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, and from the limbs on show he definitely worked out a heck of a lot more than the alpha of the moonshine pack. He stared at me in shock, he barely spared a glance at the gun in my hand, his eyes were only on me. And it wasn't long until my wolf told me why. . . Mate!

His hands trembled as he unlocked it, metal clicking sharply in the quiet. The lid lifted. Inside were guns. Not ordinary ones. Silver. Pure. Deadly. The bullets shimmered faintly beneath the harsh white light. “One shot,” the man said in a hushed voice, “can kill even an Alpha.” My heart slammed violently against my ribs. Then I laughed. I couldn’t stop it. The sound tore out of my throat, sharp, wild, fractured, like something broken inside me had finally snapped free. “You can leave,” I told the man, tossing a bag of money at his feet.

blue is really his colour. “I've shared the file with you. Look through it and find your partner.” I watch as he turns to the white board, raises his hand and starts writing something down. The fabric at his wrist slips away, revealing the small gold watch he wears there and more expanse of delicious skin. I really have to get myself together. I open my phone, d******d the file and skim through. Jackson, there it is. Paired with a McShaw. Who's McShaw?

asked Black Jesus “What I should have done long ago.” I took out a collective gun I was given by a Russian man when I was 16. The Golden gun with one bullet. A bullet I was told to put on my biggest enemy`s forehead. An enemy which I called my friend- The Wise- thug! He saw me coming his way with a gun on my hand. “Mastermind, how are you?” he said, “You know, I must say that I`m glad you came to your senses. I knew you`d see that we make a good team together, my friend.”

I cleaned the weapon on the corpse’s shirt and took my time to look at it. I traced my hand over the golden snake engraved into the dark handle and smiled. "Thanks, dad."

" I just hope all this is over soon and you can spend time with each other. Ever since she came into your life you have not spent a full week with each other without any problems" He sat beside his brother as he brought out a package from under his pillow, " don't worry man, this time around I will handle everything from the root" he said handing him the package. " What is this man?" Rome's face lit up immediately as he opened the package and his eyes opened wide. It was a gold coated gun and one bullet from it could kill someone in less than three seconds. " This is awesome" he beamed happily like a young school boy. In front of his brother, he could happily express himself.

“Light it up. This one goes first. Then set fire to the next two. I don’t want anything left but ash.” I stepped out of the darkness, my gun tucked behind my back. An audible hush of surprise swept across the warehouse as I startled Giuseppe and the six men he’d brought with him. I tilted my head to the side, smiling like the demon they knew me to be. As if on cue, the bay door shut and snapped closed, locking them inside with the Mano Della Morte. “Shit,” one of Giuseppe’s guys hissed as he backed up a step.

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