Page 60 of Dope Boys: Most Wanted
Reign nodded, her head brushing against his chest. She squeezed the trigger, her hands jerking back just enough. “Did I hit it?”
“You barely got him, now that nigga is bussin’ back at you. What you gonna do about that?”
She fired another shot.
“Remember, when guns are drawn, it’s you or them. You makin’ it home or not?”
Reign squeezed another three shots out. They did this until the clip was empty and she was almost comfortable. Markus took the Glock, showed her how to reload, and held her hands again.
“Shoot that nigga,” he urged.
She squeezed again until the clip was empty, finding her comfort. This time, he let her reload and fire without his assistance. He watched from a safe distance, eight shots to the face and neck, the rest to the body. When her target was glided to her, he took in her proud smile.
“You’ve done this before?” he quizzed.
She swayed her head. “Nope. You said it’s me or them. I’ve gone through too much to go out like that. Is this it or can I get another round?”
“You can have as many rounds as you want. Put your earmuffs back on, though. And your safety glasses,” he directed, picking the items up and donning them on her himself. He swiped a curl out of her face and motioned her back to the stand.
He stood in the booth next to her and shot his own targets. It went from teaching to friendly competition to a series of bets. So far, Markus was going to help her cook and clean up after.
“Aight, I got one more before we get out of here. I win this round, you letting me have that spot on the couch without all that lip every night.”
“Every night?” Reign screeched.
He licked his lips and quietly admitted. “I haven’t taken a perc since I’ve been in your presence. Deadass. I’m learning I don’t do well alone.”
“Outshoot me and we’ll see.”
They turned back to their respective targets and waited for the timer to count down. Three rounds, three targets, and Reign was outshot by one bullet.
“Dammit. I just knew I was getting rid of you,” she grumbled, feigning upset.
Markus laughed, something he found himself doing more and more of around her. “You full of shit. You want me on that couch.”
“Uh huh, and that’s as far as you’re getting.”
“Hate to burst your little bubble, Speechless, but them little guardrails you putting up don’t stand a chance.”
“You want this alfredo or not?”
“Definitely want it,” he stated. “Already got the JoyCart on the way.”
“Well, the quicker we get back, the sooner I can get this forced sleepover over,” she offered him a tight smile and broke her gun down the way he’d taught her.
Back at Reign’s spot, they moved around each other, prepping, cooking, and eating from their respective plates.
“Nah for real, this shit is amazing,” Markus groaned.
“Don’t act like you don’t eat five-star meals,” Reign said, picking up her plate and moving to the sink. “It’s noodles and some cream sauce.”
“I do, but it’s nothing like a home-cooked meal. I don’t get that often. How’d you master this?”
“Uh, being left in the house with a clove of garlic, some milk, butter, and cheese. And pasta noodles or ramen. I learned to love noodles and how to doctor it up. Noodles are my favorite, I probably should’ve been a noodle,” she shared, not realizing she’d opened the door to his wayward comment.
“So you can be slurped up?” he grunted. “Noted.”
Reign balled up the dish towel and tossed it at him. “Emilliano, please.”
