AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He wiggles an eyebrow. “Hot, huh?”
“You have moments,” I say. “I can’t save myself with a pen.”
He opens a small silver case and places the basic pen inside before removing a fancier one. “These are tactical pen. There are a couple of these babies in this case with your standard pens.”
My brow furrows. “What are tactical pens?”
“A weapon and a pen.” He shows me the writing end. “It writes, not as well as you might like, but it writes. The opposite side is your real weapon.” He flips it over. “This is metal, with stamped grip grooves, and the hard tip is designed to penetrate and cause pain. It’s also intended to not just puncture but incapacitate. As a bonus, it’s capable of breaking glass should you need to get through a window. Keep one of these on your person in random places, at all times; a sock, your bra, your waistband, your pocket. Behind your ear.” He catches my hand and walks me around the table to stand in front of him. “The pen doesn’t have a blade and you need to use it at close proximity to do damage but slicing motions have an impact.” He pulls me around and in front of him, pressing the pen into my hand and then showing me his version of slicing. “The head is a good target.” He releases me. “You need to practice here, now, with me. And remember. You won’t look menacing with a pen. That works for you. That’s going to take an enemy off guard. Now. Let’s talk about pressure point targets and why they matter.”
We cover tons of material and practice for what feels like forever. Once we’ve set aside the tactical pen, we move on to a small folding knife. “I don’t like the idea of you using something that can be taken from you and used against you,” he says. “But the knife has its uses.” We cover how and why to pull the blade before we move on to mace, which I already carry. He, however, has a unique perspective on how and why to use mace. “Not everyone is sensitive,” he says. “And the victim of its use will recover. Use it and then the pen in the eye.”
Once we move to artillery, it’s all about loading, handling, targeting, hand position. We practice maneuvers, weapon draws, and more. By the time we start firing, I’m feeling exhausted but determined. I do well. He’s pleased. “Hell yeah, baby,” he approves, removing his protective glasses. “Hell yeah.”
“Hell yeah, is me going to the bathroom,” I say, setting my weapon down on the table in front of me, before removing my own protective glasses. “And I need food.”
He catches my hand and guides me to him. “Not sex?”
I laugh. “Not until you feed me.”
“Well then hurry the hell up and go pee so we can eat and get home.”
“Anything from your team on my father?”
“I’ll find out while you pee.” He promises.
I start to dart away and he catches my hand. “Forgetting something?”
My brow furrows and then I laugh and kiss him. “I like the kiss, baby, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Armed and dangerous. Live it. Take your gun, in your purse.”
“You already have me covered in tactical pens, Rick. And I’m not taking my purse.” He doesn’t release me. He just gives me one of those broody, Rick Savage looks. “Fine. I’m about to pee my pants. I’ll take the gun and purse.”
He releases me and I pick up the gun, making necessarily fast work of retrieving my purse, settling the gun inside, and just to please him, I pick up his preferred brand of mace and slip it in the side pocket. His sweet and hot stare, that promises an equally hot night, has me smiling as I head for the door. “Top of the stairs and down the hall to the right,” he calls after me.
I lift a hand and hurry out of the room and up the stairs. Once I’m in the single toilet private bathroom, I quickly kick the toilet seat down, cursing men. That’s the problem with sharing a bathroom with a man in a public place and one at home. At home, you know who to yell at. Outside home, you don’t.
Once I finish up, I suds my sore hands and silently thank Lea for the floral lotion, that I doubt Kevin chose. Feeling better, and ready to eat, I don’t give myself time to think about all the reasons I have to worry. As Rick said; Fretting, worry, and obsessive thoughts create emotional weakness. I can’t afford weakness, right now. And his suggestion that I fuck the hell out of him instead of fretting, well, that sounds pretty good right now.
Smiling again—thank you, Rick Savage—I open the door and jolt at the site of a tall, broad man with long blond hair and tattoos down his arms.
