"Yep." Granny laughed. "Dwayne insisted we all wear wedding gowns and parade up and down Main Street for two hours."
"Um… oookay," I mumbled.
I noted Hank's completely confused expression and Junior's ear-to-ear grin. Thankfully they'd removed their gowns and were back in their regular clothes. Granny now wore a colorful peasant skirt, jeweled sandals and a boob tube. Dwayne wore skinny jeans, starched wife beater and low heeled pumps.
"It was their highest sales day of the year," Dwayne boasted. "Lori offered me a permanent job at the shop."
"And Layla puked in a potted plant," Granny added.
"What did you tell them?" I asked as I examined the array of weapons on the table. We'd met up at the gun range after hours to get some practice in and to make sure Granny was up to snuff.
"I told them they could only have me for three more days because I have to go kill some stuff in Chicago. However, I offered to Skype with customers twice a week," Dwayne said, quite pleased with the compromise he'd worked out.
Granny slipped on her ear protectors and picked up a Beretta 92. I put mine on and picked out a Glock 22. Junior, Hank and Dwayne stood back and watched.
"You want me to kill him or maim him?" Granny asked as she squinted at the targets.
"You think you're good enough to choose?" I inquired with a grin.
"Little girl, I'm as good as they get."
"Maim," I challenged.
She took aim and nailed every non-kill spot on the body, missing all major arteries and organs.
"Holy sheeeot." Junior whistled and applauded. "Nice work, Granny."
"Can I kill him now?" she asked as she chuckled.
I shouldn't have doubted my granny's skills. She was one freakin' surprise after another. The most major being I'd just found out she'd been WTF before I was born. She'd been partnered with my overworked and grumpy boss Angela. Angela had worked her way up the WTF food chain and Granny had gotten out. Of course she had voluntarily gone back in for this next assignment and I was worried. If anything happened to her my world would not be okay.
"Kill him," I said.
With one clean shot right through the heart of the paper target, he was dead.
"Think you can beat that?" she asked with a smirk.
"Not think—know," I informed her cockily.
"Be my guest, sugar puss."
My pleasure," I said as I raised my gun, kicked off my flip-flops and aimed.
And I killed him.
Shot him thorough the heart ten times and only made one hole.
One small hole.
"He's dead," I announced to my shocked audience.
"Guns down," Hank said with a huge grin on his face as he approached the targets.
"What in the hell was that?" Junior shouted. "I heard the damn gun go off ten times but I only see one hole."
"I'm that good," I said silkily.
"Damn right you are," Dwayne said as he put his arms around me and squeezed. "Boys, move. Let her show you the other thing."
"What other thing?" Granny asked as Hank and Junior hightailed it out of the way.
"Oh, hell to the no," Junior moaned as he and Hank jack-knifed forward in anticipation.
"Geld him," Dwayne instructed.
And I did. I shot his balls clean off his body and then some. Hank, Junior and Dwayne were all leaning forward and wincing in solidarity with the paper man who had just gotten his jewels blown to Kingdom Come.
"That is some fine shootin', honey bun," Granny yelled with pride. "Hank, I'd suggest you stay on my granddaughter's good side."
"Noted," Hank said as he shook his head and laughed.
"Do we really need to be here?" Dwayne whined. "All of you can shoot the teats off of a cow with your eyes shut. I need to start packing for Chicago."
"What do you have to pack?" I asked. We'd been in Georgia for two weeks and Dwayne had brought one suitcase—one large suitcase, but only one.
"I shopped," he told me.
"Nuff said," I replied.
"Speaking of Cows…" Junior said.
"Did you find anything else out?" Dwayne paled and dropped dramatically down on a chair.
"No, not yet, but I have some friends looking into it."
"Want to get me up to speed here?" Hank asked as he and I put the weapons away.
"Dwayne?" I gave him a look and he groaned.
"Fine," he huffed. "A few hundred years ago I kinda sorta married some cows."
"Holy hell," Hank muttered with disgust. "Vampyres marry farm animals?"
"Were Cows," Dwayne hissed. "And I didn't marry them. I pretended to marry them."
"I am so lost," Hank said as he ran his hands through his hair.
Hank had known Dwayne for a year. It was one of the ways he'd secretly kept tabs on me after I had run away because I stupidly thought he had cheated on me. I was training in Chicago and trying to have a new life, which wasn't working out all that well. I was freakin' miserable without Hank. He befriended my BFF under a fake name and since Dwayne had no filter whatsoever, Hank had been able to find out all he wanted to know. Most people would think that was psychotic and stalkerish. After I got over being pissed, I thought it was hot. Hank had always known we were true mates even if I was too dumb and immature to realize it.