Get Lucky by K. A. M'Lady

Author:K. A. M'Lady
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotica
Publisher: Mojocastle Press
Published: 2013-09-24T04:00:00+00:00

Five

I backed out of the bathroom, Collin’s lips still on mine and a song in my heart. The click of my Nan’s gun was the first thing that alerted me that we weren’t alone, Collin’s falter the second. “I think we’re in trouble,” he whispered with a nod over my shoulder.

“Oh, you’ve more trouble than you know,” Nan stated, tossing me my gun. “Get dressed, child and be quick about it. We’ve company coming, and they’ve got murder on their minds.”

“Shit!” I said as the cold rush of dread slammed through me. With a mad dash for the closet, I threw on an old pair of black capris, a silver wrap-around sweater and grabbed the spare shotgun from the closet, tossing it to Collin as I was shoving on the nearest flats. I figured these, at least, were one set of footwear that shouldn’t give me any trouble.

“You’ve no idea,” Nan was saying as she handed Collin a box of shells. “When this is finished, son, you and I will be having a few words about my granddaughter,” she told him, briefly clinging to the box.

Collin paused a moment and looked at the woman’s clear green eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a nod of his head.

“Now, the two of you had best be gettin’. Word on the street is that old Daniel McCray has it in for ya. You wouldn’t have any idea why? Would you, Lucinda Ray O’Brian?”

Damn. The full use of my name. I was in some serious trouble, and not just from the gangsters.

“I might know a bit,” I sheepishly replied as we headed down the stairs like three blind mice, loaded for bear. As soon as we hit the living room, shots rang out like a war zone. All three of us dove for cover.

Personally, I had no idea my Nan could move that fast. The old woman was fast as a wit and just as quick on the barrel. She had a shell jacked and was barking out rounds like a rabid dog before I even knew what direction to fire.

Amidst brazen bullets, I clued in my Nan and Collin into my recent nefarious and not-so deeds. As vases broke, chairs splintered and the picture screen exploded on the television set, Nan filled us in on what she had learned from her phone calls. None of it good.

“We know you’re in there, McGregor!” A voice suddenly yelled in a brief lull of bullets. “You and the girl come out and the old lady won’t get hurt.”

“Ain’t nobody in here but me, you no-good alley crawler!” Nan suddenly yelled, pointing towards a latch in the living room floorboard. “When Father Carmichael gets wind that you shot up my house--the home of Nan O’Brian--there’s going to be hell to pay.”

Voices, loud and arguing, came through the shattered windows as I pulled open the trapped door. Beyond, a tunnel. “It leads to the garage where your car is,” Nan was saying. “You need to find McPhee’s Pub. There you’ll find your answers.

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