Page 44 of Silver Fox Daddies

“No.” Melissa tightens her jaw, head shaking. “I don’t want to. I want to stay here.”

“The best place you can be right now,” says Cash, “is away from here.”

Bishop rolls his eyes. “Christ alive, if she wants to stay, let her stay.”

His neck is the next one I’ll be snapping if he doesn’t stop being so self-absorbed.

Melissa sees me shoot Bishop another look. “You don’t understand. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“We can protect ourselves just fine,” I tell her, entwining our hands again. “I can even prove it.” To Cash and Bishop, I add, “Let’s take her to the ammunition room.”

“We’re not going there,” says Cash. “That’s not gonna help the situation.”

“She needs to see it for herself.”

“Yeah,” Bishop says. “What’s the harm? Life isn’t rainbows and unicorns forever.”

Cash turns silent, knowing that his prospect voice will never beat the road captain and sergeant at arms.

Pushing open the door, I ensure that the coast is clear before beckoning Melissa out of the room. Her face says it all when we enter the main room, the strong smell of antiseptic causing her to peg two fingers over her nose instantly.

The stronger the antiseptic, the worse the fight.

“Okay, let’s not dillydally.” Bishop lifts up the curtain for Melissa and we all follow.

It takes a second for my eyes to adjust. Like the tattoo parlor, lighting in the ammunition room is low. Out in the desert, we don’t have electricity coming out of our asses, so we limit it as much as possible.

Melissa breaks away to wander around the room, her hand ghosting a rack of guns all hung up parallel to one another on the wall.

She puts her hand to her mouth. “This many?”

“There’s a lot of club members here, darling.”

Next, she discovers all the bullets arranged into boxes on various wooden shelves.

“What are all of these?”

Her question reinforces her innocence.

She doesn’t even recognize boxes of bullets when she sees them.

“This is a bad idea,” says Cash.

Well, it’s too late now.

“Bullets,” says Bishop.

Of course he’s the one to answer, as the impulsive killer of the group.

“We have all different kinds too, see?” He steps in, taking out some of the boxes to present them to her like we’re doing show and tell. “Hollow points—these cause greater damage. Boat tails are good aerodynamics. Bullet cores. Round noses. My favorites are the 950 JDJs. They’re large caliber rifle-rounds and do so much damage.”

Where the fuck is he getting with this?

“Reaper Sons don’t stand a chance if one of these hits them. It’ll obliterate them.” Bishop plucks one of them from out of the box and holds it up for Melissa to inspect. She does so gingerly, probably afraid it’s gonna explode in her face. “Look at the size of this thing. Almost as big as your hand.” He measures it up against Melissa’s. “Here. Hold it.”

“No, that’s okay.”

“Seriously. Feel the power of this baby.”

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