Destiny's Revenge (Destiny Series - Book 2) by Straight, Nancy (management books to read .TXT) 📕

earsplitting. From this new gun he fired what sounded like ten shots. My idea that we were here to blow off steam could not have been further off the mark. Max was not here to have a good time. He was all business as he inspected his latest shots. These shots were in a tight group, all in the silhouette’s head.

Max set the second handgun down and looked in my direction again. “I’m going to go talk to Marvin for a little while. Take all the time you want. Did you want to try any others?” I shook my head but said nothing and turned my attention back to my target. I had been shooting at one-half the distance he had and was not anywhere near as accurate as Max.

Marvin stepped back in to check on me a few minutes later. There was no one else at the range. I put the safety on and set the handgun at the counter and removed my ear muffs. He had another box of ammunition that he set down in front of me. I had just loaded the last of the first box.

“Thanks, Marvin.”

Marvin looked as though he were arguing with himself when he finally said, “Lauren, I don’t hardly know what to say. I would have visited you, or sent flowers or somethin’. I didn’t know that you were…okay.”

Kind of a strange response? Marvin and I weren’t friends or anything. I had only met him once, on my first date with Max. “Don’t sweat it, Marvin. I’ve only been up and around for a few weeks, and I surprised everyone.” No one more than Max, I almost added but thought better of it.

“Yeah,” he said this slow and drawn out, “I imagine you did. Max was here several times a week right up until he lef’. He took what happened to you really hard. Really hard.”

Marvin wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know. “I’m glad you kept his spirits up.”

Marvin shook his head at me, “Shooot…No, I didn’t. None of us could. I never seen a man so…what’s the right word? Distraught. None of us really thought he would come back from Afghanistan. If you ask me, I think he was hoping it was a suicide mission. I’m glad you’re okay, and I’m not sure why he’s all a ‘da sudden collecting an arsenal for you. I just want you to know, what happened to you come jus’ as close to killing Max as it did you.”

“I knew he took it pretty hard, and if it makes him feel better for me to be packing a little heat, who am I to tell him no, right?”

Marvin agreed and threw in, “It’s good business for me, that’s fur shore.”

I nodded to Marvin, put the muffs back on, and reloaded. His words echoed a few times. I remembered the conversation between Max and Ski the night of their rescue. Ski’s description of Max did sound really close to a suicide mission.

I finished off the last of the ammunition and walked back up front. Max and Marvin were talking about Max’s year in Afghanistan, but the conversation abruptly halted when I walked through the door.

Marvin said, “You’re all set. Max has loaded everything into the truck except the one you are carrying.” Marvin handed me a small gun case to put it in, and I noticed there was already a box of ammunition inside.

Max and I walked out to the truck. We had only burned through about forty-five minutes at the range. He was not as tense as before, but he wasn’t a big barrel of happiness spilling over either. I asked where we were going next, and he said in a very monotone voice, “To get you a new best friend.”

***

We drove up to the Humane Society, which was brimming with barking dogs and terrified cats. I had never been a huge dog person, not opposed to them, just not a big-time dog lover, so I thought I’d let Max find a good replacement for Missy.

I saw several Labradors, but he didn’t hesitate at any of their cages. He just kept walking up and down the rows of kennels. There were some really cute dogs and most seemed pretty excited to have someone outside their cage. Max paused for a second a few rows over from me and then said, “Perfect. Lauren, come here.”

I walked up to where he was standing. In front of me was one of the biggest Doberman Pinchers I had ever seen. The dog was seated with his tongue hanging out to one side, whining at us. Taped to the top of his kennel was the name, “Peanut.” I laughed and said that must be some kind of joke. Who would name a Doberman Peanut? Max waved one of the volunteers over and asked, “What’s Peanut’s story?”

“A military family turned him in. They got orders to Hawaii, and I guess it’s like a three month quarantine for animals coming to the island. They didn’t want to do that to him, so they put him up for adoption. He’s got all his shots, he’s been neutered, and I think he’s gone through obedience training, too. He’s supposed to be fine with other dogs and kids – but not so great with cats. Peanut has only been here a day and he’s already had a lot of interest.”

The volunteer let us take him into a play area, and although his size was massive, he was convinced he was a lap dog. When I sat on a well-worn couch, he climbed right up beside me and put his head on my shoulder. I picked up a ball to play fetch with him, tossed it to the other side of the room, but he made no move to retrieve it. I stood up and got it from the other side of the room while Max laughed, “Looks like he just taught you how to fetch.”

It was nice to see Max happy, even