Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 130761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
“That was . . . impressive.” I could not help but smile. I had never seen anything like it before.
Seeming suddenly shy, AK lowered his eyes, but I saw the flicker of a smile on his lips. He leaned back in his chair. “You know what this gun is called?”
I shook my head. “I know nothing of guns at all. The prophet’s disciples would carry them in the commune, but the females did not touch them. They are only for men.”
“One”—he held up a finger—“they ain’t just for men. And two, this here gun is called an AK-47.”
AK-47. Realization dawned.
“AK,” I said, feeling as though I had just solved a huge mystery. “You were named after a . . . a gun?” I was confused. Who would do that to a child?
“I have a name, Phebe. AK just became my nickname at the Hangmen. ’Cause I’m good with guns. Styx’s old man saw me shoot, and my road name was born.”
“That is why you have so many guns, because you are good with them?” He nodded, but stiffly, as if that was not the entire story. “So what is your real name?” I asked.
AK shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Xavier. Xavier Charles Deyes.”
“Xavier.” I smiled. I liked how it sounded on my tongue. “I like this name.” I repeated it in my head once again. “I prefer it to the gun name.”
“But I ain’t that person no more, so I go by AK now. Suits who I am now. Xavier died a fucking long time ago.”
“And who are you now?” I asked, confused by the dark turn this conversation had taken.
“A Hangman. And not Xavier fucking Deyes.” AK leaned down, clearly ending the conversation, and took another dusty gun from the trunk. With the same speed as he had put the other together, he pulled it apart. I watched in silence as he made quick work of cleaning it and putting it back together. He placed it down, and I saw that he had a pile of glistening guns on a blanket to the other side of his feet.
“You like to shoot?”
My question stilled his movements. “Yeah.” He cocked his head to the side. “You?”
I laughed. I could not help it. “No,” I sputtered. “I have not even held one in my hands before. I would not even know where to begin.”
AK picked up a gun from the pile beside him and laid it before me. I stared at the large gun and screwed up my face. “I would have no idea how to operate such a thing.”
AK took another gun in his hand. “Then I’ll show you.” He got to his feet, and any awkwardness he had harbored minutes ago seemed to have disappeared. He was confident with the gun in his hand, transformed. He picked up the gun he wanted me to use. “Come with me.”
I rose from my seat and followed his retreating form. AK led the way through the trees, stopping at the edge of a small field. Five trees were in the distance, a brightly painted wooden plaque affixed to each trunk.
“Targets,” AK said, as if reading my mind. “You aim, shoot and try to hit one.”
“Impossible.”
“Not at all, Red. You just need a good teacher.”
I turned and smiled. “Are you that good teacher?” I asked teasingly. His eyes flared at the smile on my face and humor in my voice.
“Too right I fucking am.” He came closer and took one of my hands. His palm and fingers felt rough in my own. He works hard, I thought. Worked with his hands. A sudden image of those hands on my breasts slammed into my mind. More memories followed—of his fingers cupping my behind as he thrust into me, of his fingers stroking along my core before slipping inside and making me scream.
My cheeks heated at the memory, and when I looked up, AK had closed in until he was just an inch away. His put his finger under my chin and lifted my face. “What’s got you blushing like this, Red?” He stroked that finger over my cheek. “Like all your fucking freckles have joined up.”
Avoiding the truth, I said, “I hate my freckles.”
It was a pathetic attempt at distraction, so I was struck mute when he leaned in even closer, his hot breath over my face, and said, “I fucking love them.”
I swallowed, feeling my nipples harden and my breathing become erratic. “You do?”
“Mm,” he murmured and stepped closer still. I had to stop a moan from escaping my mouth when I felt the bulge in his jeans harden. My breath hitched, and a slow grin tugged on AK’s lips. He brought the gun in between us and placed my hand on top.
I felt dizzy with heat as he stepped back. Hands on my shoulders, he turned me to face the targets on the trees. His mouth came to my ear as he stood at my back. I shivered. “Concentrate,” he said, his voice low.