Havoc Read Online Free Page B

bats
her eyelashes, refusing to respond. He mutters, raising his beer,
“Eh, we'll find out soon enough.”
    He shoots me a wink. I take my stance and
knock the bottles down like some show pony. Annoyed, I growl, “Give
me a fucking challenge, Lordy.”
    “How about the plate?” he says, knowing it's
his best bet to gain ground. He grew up shooting plates with his
father. It's what piqued his interest in guns in the first place.
They shot all kinds—clay plates, pottery plates, dinner
plates—though that pissed his mother off. He turns to Glove's slave
and demands, “Get four plates from the kitchen.”
    As she disappears, he explains how girls will
toss two plates as high up in the air as they can, and we're
expected to shoot them before they fall—the dispute being can you
hit both plates in a row. Juvenile. He's clearly trying too
hard.
    Lordy goes first. Both plates fly into the
air. Shattering one causes Redhead to perk up, but he fires again,
missing plate two. It lands on the ground, her hero’s spirit with
it. I ask for something more difficult and he gives me plates.
Jesus. Such a disappointment.
    I raise the ante and look at Cowgirl. “Wanna
be impressed?” Eagerly, she nods. “One eyed.”
    I shut one eye. My plates fly into the air. I
shoot the first one without a thought. The second I let get closer
to the ground before I fire, shattering it as well. Needed to build
a little suspense.
    Through clenched teeth, Lordy swears every
curse word known to man and some I'm sure alcohol made up. The
crowd cheers, and I turn, not smiling but with a remotely pleased
look on my face.
    The redhead pouts, “I feel like I got
hustled.”
    “Lordy's usually a pretty good shot.” Glove
offers sympathy, fresh beer on his lips. “But, uh, Grim never
misses. Obviously.” She drops her jaw, and Lordy shrugs, probably
thankful he got to see the girl naked with minimal effort. The fact
it's in front of a crowd probably keeps any humiliation or guilt he
might be feeling at bay. Playfully, Glove adds, “Did I forget to
mention that? Damn it.” She huffs again, and he points, “Drop
'em.”
    Off the thong falls, and Lordy chuckles as he
pops her on the ass. “Everything matches!”
    Laughter starts, and people, including the
naked girl, head toward the house. I collect the box of shells and
prepare to put the gun that's still in my hands out of those
idiots’ way. Here I am again cleaning up their mess.
    Cowgirl still lingers behind. She's watching,
waiting for me to make a move. The sooner the better. I'm ready to
see those boots above her head and hit the bed for the night.
Watching over those bastards is exhausting.
    “What's your name again?”
    “Amber,” she pulls her hair to one side of
her face. “Grim, right?”
    “Yeah.” Most people don't know my real name,
and I prefer it that way. Keeps it from coming out of the wrong
mouths. Keeps me from attaching myself to many people. “Thanks
again.”
    “Yeah,” she nods rapidly, her hands sliding
in her back pockets. “Thanks for helping me keep some self-respect,
you know, helping me keep my clothes on.” I nod and turn my head
toward the house when she follows with, “Wanna help me take 'em
off?”
    A small smirk is on my face, my back still to
her. I toss a look over my shoulder and respond, “Follow me.”
    We slip through the main party. It’s dying
down as drinks are running dry and mouths are getting lost in one
another. The two of us head upstairs into the only empty bedroom
left. The others are filled with people doing exactly what we're
about to. Once inside the cheap deer-and-camouflage decorated room,
I place the gun in a closet, shells next to it, and shut the
door.
    The moment my hands are free, she pounces on
me, her body leaping into my arms, shaking my balance a bit by the
unexpected attack. God, why do women feel they need to reenact shit
they read in romance novels? Her legs are wrapped around me
tightly, her bird-thin lips pecking