Page 67 of Stone

Still, the days ticked over nicely, except for one thing.

Elise.

After she received my letter explaining my change of plan, she became more distant. I wasn’t stupid, I got why, and I knew I only had myself to blame for the cold shoulder she turned my way, especially after Mom told me about the shit show that happened when she turned up at the club.

I lost my shit when Ma told me what Seth did. That fucker was on my hit list and would be dealt with next time I got some leave. Leesy shouldn’t have mouthed off to Dad, but pointing a gun at my ol’ lady wasn’t smart.

Seth would get an ass whipping, but I had to shelve it until I saw the snaky fuck.

To my relief, my Leesy was finally starting to come around. It had taken months of letters, calls, and apologies, though. For a while there, the bottom fell out of my world because I thought she’d Dear John me. Luckily, she hadn’t—yet— but it taught me a hard lesson.

Discuss life changes with your girlfriend before you agree to them.

It wasn’t rocket science, but still proved effective.

“You taking that shot or what?” Spence called out.

“Slow your roll, asshole,” I called back. “Wanna do it right.”

“Fuck me,” he muttered. “Santa and his reindeer will be flying overhead by the time you pull the trigger.”

In reply, I swiveled my face away from the target, stared him down, and popped off three shots without looking.

“Cocky fuck,” Spence said accusingly. “If Sarge sees you do that shit, he’ll haul your ass over the coals.”

Holding my gun down and away, I pressed hard on a button fixed to the wall and waited for the target I’d just shot at to whir toward me. “Watch and learn, Spence,” I smirked. “Sarge won’t do shit as long as I’m on target.”

Sure enough, all three shots had hit precisely where I’d wanted. Head, heart, and dick.

“Cocky fuck,” Spence drawled again.

I chuckled.

Months of practice had honed my skills even more. Dad’s lessons were paying off, and even the countless axe-throwing contests he’d challenged me to over the years had helped in hand-to-hand combat. Because of all the hours aiming axes, I could throw a dagger at fifty paces and hit my target dead center. My sergeant told me I could take my show on the road and make my fortune.

I told him I’d prefer the biker life.

“Stone,” a voice called from behind. “Sergeant Laska wants to see you in his office.”

I craned my neck to see our Lance Corporal sticking his head around the entrance to our cubby. His eyes veered toward Spence. “He wants to see you, too.”

Spence waited for the Lance Corporal to disappear before turning to me. “If you’ve got us in a shitstorm for not looking at where you’re shooting, I’ll kick your ass.”

My lips thinned. “How the fuck would Laska see us if he’s in his office, dweeb? He ain’t Inspector Gadget. His eyes don’t come out on stalks and look around corners to catch our assesout.” I grinned. “It’ll be fine. We haven’t done shit. We’re in the damned classroom most of the time.”

“What the fuck does he want then?” Spence asked.

I lifted a shoulder. “Let’s go find out.”

As soon as we rounded the corner, we could see the Sergeant’s office door was open. The line of offices was all enclosed with glass, so it was easy to spot Laska with his head bent over some papers on his desk.

As if sensing us, his head raised, and all-seeing light-blue eyes took us in. With a jerk of his head, he gave me a silent order to get my ass inside.

My bud went to sit down on one of the chairs lined up against the glass, but he was stopped by Laska’s raspy voice shouting, “You get your ass in here, too, Spencer.”

Spence shot me a ‘what the fuck have you got us into now’ glare and followed me inside.

We both pulled straight and saluted him. “Reporting as requested, Sir,” I said, my tone steady.

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