As if reading my mind, Adeline sets up the next targets where one pops up one after another in different positions across the whole range. A good level up from our earlier session, but a welcome one, because at the end of the day, I’d be against moving targets.
I cock my gun, arm steady, waiting for the first target to pop up. I feel myself drop in the zone, focus laser-sharp, finger itching around the trigger.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
One after the other, the targets go down with bullet holes square in the chest, not missing a single one.
As the last target fal
Dante has been like this since the night I ran into the woods. He’s been distant, focused on work, maybe even too focused. And it’s been weeks and I’m not too proud to admit that I worry about him. He hasn’t been sleeping and I doubt he’s getting any rest with all the preparations he’s been doing, plus keeping up the strong appearance in the mafia community. The moment they see a crack in his armor, they will chip away at it until Dante cracks and breaks. I sincerely pray that it doesn’t come to that. And then there’s that stupid email I sent to Gavin. With nothing else to occupy my time apart from going to the gym and training with Adeline, my mind keep
“Peter Atwood. Does that name ring a bell?” “Who?” He even has the audacity to play dumb. Fighting to keep the hatred and annoyance from showing, I school my face to remain neutral. Not one tick in my jaw, not one quirk of an eyebrow, I must remain calm. I can’t give my position away or he’ll never tell when what his relationship with my father was. “Drop the dumb act, I know you know him.” My voice drips with so much hatred I barely recognize myself. Despite my little personal pep talk. I apparently am not able to hold back my rage when faced with the potential perpetrator leading my parents’ demise.
Dante “Let go of me, Dante.” Seething, I grip her wrist tighter. She shouldn’t even be here. She shouldn’t even be within breathing distance of that scum, Guerrero. “Where are we even going?” Where are we going? Even I have no clue. The only thought occupying my mind is that I have to get her away from there. Away from that prison. Away from the stench of blood and violence.
Dante “Fuck, baby.” Jean hasn’t even taken me in her mouth and yet I’m damn near coming already. Just by the way she’s caressing my dick. Damn, did I just say caressing? Jean’s tongue has got me writing poetry and she’s barely even touched me. Jean giggles, and oh what a sight she is, on her knees for me, my thick throbbing cock covering half her face as she rubs against it. “Baby?” she asks and for a brief second, I thought she’d call this off. But Jean licks a wet stripe along the base of my dick up to the tip, flicking her tongue and collecting the precum leaking t
Dante wastes no time pounding into me with practiced skill. His dick curved at just the right angle hitting my sweet spot again and again. “No, please! I’m gonna cum!” I scream feeling the orgasm building in me, threatening to explode at any moment. But Dante’s deaf to my pleas, only driving his cock harder and faster into my cunt. “Come, then. Come around my cock, sweetheart.” It’s as if Dante has full command of my body because one last thrust from him sends me over the edge with a loud moan muffled by the sheets. I’m a drooling, crying mess as I let my release roll over me.
I don’t know what’s more pleasing, waking up pleasantly sore all over, or finding out Dante didn’t wake and leave early like how he usually does. Carefully, without jostling too much, I reach over to find my phone on the nightstand. “Holy shit,” I curse barely above a whisper, afraid that Dante might wake up. My heart goes into overdrive, Gavin has responded to my email. ‘Good day, Miss Atwood. Yes, I did work with your father long ago. Unfortunately, I didn’t stay in touch. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.’ That’s it? He didn’t even answer
“Calm down, easy now, Jean,” I whisper to myself, thumbing the napkin neatly placed on top of the table. Every second I spend in my head thinking this whole thing over triples my anxiety levels. I can’t believe I’m this nervous to meet someone, but this someone could potentially clear the mystery surrounding my family, and I feel like that justifies my nerves being all over the place. Looking over my shoulder, I meet Adeline’s eyes. She gives me a reassuring nod and then takes a sip of her coffee. I’m grateful she’s in the cafe with me. At least I have her for moral support. I think we blend in pretty well with this dainty coffee shop at the edge o
“Ah, here it is.” As soon as I got home, I scoured every ledger and note that I could find that could even be remotely associated with the island my father bought. Carefully, I take pictures of each note and compile them into one file, before forwarding them to Gavin. His reply is almost instant. ‘Got this. Thanks, let me do some digging first. I’ll get back to you soon.’ ‘Thank you, and be safe.’ For the first time in a