Free Jack & Coke (The Uncertain Saints Book 2) by Lani Lynn Vale Page B

her in like the guy I should be, and watch from the shadows until my relief came.
    “Where’s your bag?” I asked her.
    “Upstairs. I brought my key and driver’s license, though,” she answered, getting off and walking to her door.
    I followed her, stopping just behind her when she got to the door and unlocked the lock.
    What I noticed she didn’t do, however, was unarm her alarm.
    “You know the point of that alarm, right?” I asked, leaning against the doorjamb.
    She shrugged. “Sure do.”
    I narrowed my eyes. “What, you want to get your place broken into? You want another two by four to the head?”
    She leaned forward into my space, giving me a clear view of the tops of her breasts.
    “I fail to see how having an alarm would keep me safe from two by fours,” she sneered.
    I flicked my eyes up to hers, not knowing what to say to her logical words.
    I took a deliberate step back until she could easily close the door.
    She didn’t.
    And I had to force myself not to take another step forward.
    “Make sure you arm it from now on,” I growled.
    She sighed.
    “The number is like, a million numbers long. It’s hard to remember,” she admitted.
    I took a step towards her alarm.
    “You have the number written down?” I asked.
    She nodded, walking to the small kitchen table that was in the middle of the back room, pulling her massive bag off the cluttered mess.
    She walked back over, digging into her purse until she unearthed a piece of paper, then handed the bag to me.
    I was slightly amazed at how heavy the bag was.
    I’m talking nearly twenty-five pounds.
    How could any woman find that comfortable to carry?
    “What do you have in here?” I asked, watching her punch in the buttons . “Rocks?”
    She typed the last number and pointed to it.
    “There,” she said. “You have thirty seconds to leave before it starts freaking out.”
    I snorted, then started to mess with the system info, holding my hands out for the slip of paper.
    She gave it to me, and I punched the numbers in one more time before changing the code completely.
    “There,” I said. “Now it’s easy.”
    She raised her eyebrow at me in question.
    “It’s the numbers of your birthdate, followed by mine,” I informed her.
    She rolled her eyes.
    That’d been a funny experience.
    We’d learned that our birthdays were on the same day, but I had nine years on her.
    She’d teased me of robbing the cradle, and I’d informed her that she’d like my type of cradle robbing.
    “Will you hand me a pen out of that bag so I can write it down on another piece of paper just in case?” She asked.
    I reached blindly into the bag, freezing when I felt the unmistakable feel of a firearm.
    I pulled the cold metal gun out slowly, raising it up so I could get a good look at it.
    “Since when did you start carrying a firearm?” I asked.
    She shrugged.
    “When I got out of the hospital,” she answered, turning her back on me.
    I closed the door, very intrigued to know the answer as to why she felt the need to carry one.
    “Do you know how to shoot this?” I asked, holding up the .40 caliber pistol for her inspection.
    “Ish,” she wiggled her hand as she made her way to the coffee pot.
    I gritted my teeth.
    “You don’t know how to shoot it?” I asked with incredulity.
    She turned to look at me, noticing the tone that my voice had taken.
    “I know how. I just don’t know if I could actually shoot anyone,” she explained.
    I growled low in my throat, handing the gun back to her.
    “Show me how to unload it,” I instructed her.
    She took the gun, and I could immediately tell she didn’t use it anywhere near as much as she should if she’d planned on carrying it for protection.
    She bit her lip, pulling the plump softness in between her teeth.
    I watched, cock straining to attention, as she slowly expelled the magazine from the gun, then jacked the bullet from it.
    The bullet that was in the chamber hit the floor, and she bent down