Free Sample Friday - B.A.B.E.

A bit from Bodie Myers latest Bad Ass Bitch Extraordinaire - Hell Book 2
We grabbed the bag out of the back and went to the door. Dex met us at the doorway before we knocked.
Before we could say anything, we heard Stringer yelling “Run,” from inside the house, followed by a gunshot.
Dex took Stringer’s advice and bounded past us into the yard. Tommy went into the house and I followed. We both heard him say run, but neither of us wanted to leave Stringer behind if he was in trouble.
We came in just in time to see an older dude dressed in wife beater t-shirt and black jeans finish a fallen Stringer with a bullet from the biggest handgun I had ever seen to Stringer’s face.
We were standing there frozen. The whole scene was just to bizarre for us to comprehend when the man turned and swung the gun our way, “You have my guns in that bag?”
Neither of us said anything. For the first time we noticed another man, shorter and stouter than the man who executed Stringer, but otherwise a twin of the shooter sitting on the couch holding a shotgun with a sawed down barrel and a pistol grip.
He swung the gun our way, “You punk ass little bitches really think you can steal our shit and sell it back to us?”
I took the bag from Tommy and said, “Sorry, we didn’t know.”
“You knew it belonged to somebody though,” He said as he stood up.
I couldn’t think of a good answer to that one so I just tossed the bag into the middle of the room.
They both looked at it, just for a second, but it was enough for me to grab Tommy by the arm and pull him out the door. It was time to take the late Stringer’s advice.
The pistol roared and Tommy’s brains covered the side of my face. I kept running as he fell in the yard. The gun roared again and something cut into the air by left ear but the only blood on me was still Tommy’s as I dove over the hood of the Honda.

A shotgun blast peppered the front quarter panel and blew out the side window as I ducked behind the front wheel. I moved to the door, but I did not have the keys.


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