![]() ![]() Christian Hawkins, had kicked more ass and taken more names than most men alive. The girl was out of control, but Superman, a.k.a. “And if you bend over that desk one more time, I’m going to paddle you.” “Put out the damn cigarette, Skeeter,” the man working at the last computer said. A billow of smoke came out of her mouth when she exhaled.ĭylan was the boss of 738 Steele Street in Denver, Colorado, second in command of Special Defense Force, SDF, a group of tough as nails black ops shadow warriors who specialized in doing the Department of Defense’s dirty work. “Make me,” she said, then stuck the Faro between her lips and inhaled, holding the match to the end of the cigarette. She knew there was no smoking in the office. She knocked a cigarette out of the pack of Mexican Faros on the desk and struck a match off her belt. She was out to slay him, his nemesis, the bane of his existence – Skeeter Bang, five feet eight inches of blond bombshell leaning over a computer. ![]() ![]() Dylan Hart flipped his cell phone shut and rubbed his hand over his forehead, trying not to stare at the girl on the other side of the office. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |