Chapter 4
Aria
Beau’s hands are steady on the wheel as he drives us to the center of town.
I glance out the window, my thoughts swirling with everything that’s happened this morning.
The worst thing that could happen from all of this is they're taken away from me and sent off to prison or, even worse, shipped back to Florida to go to prison. As much as I hate to admit it, I can’t pretend I’m not scared.
I’m scared for them, for me, and for what comes next for us in our relationship.
Beau pulls into the parking lot of a store called Crimson Curse Armory, a large, plain building nestled between a couple of other storefronts. It’s not the kind of place I’d ever go to if I were out shopping. But since meeting my men here I am, walking toward a whole new reality.
“Alright, time to arm the queen.” Beau says, glancing at me with that panty-dropping grin I’ve come to know so well.
I give him a nervous smile, trying to steady my breath. “You know I’m still not comfortable with guns,” I mutter, my fingers fighting with the hem of my jacket. “I don’t know how to use or even hold one.”
He chuckles softly. “Don't worry, I already have a plan for that." He teases.
I slide out of the car, the cool February air biting against my skin, even through my jacket.
I roll my shoulders back, trying to shake off the nerves, but they linger.
The last thing I ever thought I’d need in my life was a damn gun.
Sure, I can handle myself…thick body, sharp tongue, and a temper to match…
but weapons? That’s a different beast all on its own.
Beau doesn’t seem to notice the nervous edge in my movements, or maybe he’s just pretending not to.
His tall figure looms beside me, dark and brooding.
He’s dressed in all black, the shade of danger itself.
He doesn’t need a weapon…and neither does Jackson…
because they are a weapon all on their own.
The doorbell chimes as we enter the store. The air smells of gunpowder, metal, and something sharp. There’s a low hum of murmuring in the background as other customers look through the display case.
Beau turns to look at me. “Alright, baby, it's time to get some backup to go with your fighting moves.”
I cross my arms and give him a sideways glance. “How much stuff do I need?”
Beau looks over at me, his grin growing wider. “Depends on how much you value your life.”
I roll my eyes. “And here I thought I was dramatic.”
But I don’t miss the way his eyes flick to me, always protective, always calculating. He’s serious. Damn serious. And when Beau gets like this, there’s no arguing with him.
He heads toward the handgun section, and I follow, my boots clicking against the floor. He picks up a sleek black Glock and studies it, the weight of it in his hand like he’s been holding guns his entire life, which, knowing their past now, probably isn’t far off.
“This one’s easy to conceal,” he says, his fingers brushing the barrel. “And it packs a punch. You can carry it on your waistband. Right here.” He taps the side of my hip. “I’ll show you how to handle it later once we get back home.”
I glance at the gun, uneasy. “I’ve never used one before.”
He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Jackson and I will teach you. We can take it as slow as you need.”
I give him a look, my arms still crossed, but a smile tugs at the corner of my lips. “So, you two will be my personal instructors now?”
Beau chuckles, and it's a sound that sends a strange mix of warmth and danger flooding through me. He sets the Glock down and picks up another gun. This one is a little bulkier, with a heavier frame. “This one’s for when you need more power. You know, more oomph, if you catch my drift.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Oomph? Are you seriously using that word?”
Beau narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t hate on my vocabulary, babe.”
He slides a few more handguns, ammo and holsters into his basket. Every time he picks one up, he explains its benefits in his low, steady voice. It’s all starting to blur together, and honestly, my head’s spinning. I know I need protection, but I didn’t think it would come with this much stuff.
He picks up a taser next. “This,” he says, holding it up, “will put anyone down with a little zap. Just press here.” He pushes the button down. “And boom. They’re on the ground.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You want me to carry this too?”
Beau’s smile turns almost wicked. “It fits in your pocket and drops creeps like dominoes. What's not to love?”
“Great, so I’m going around like a walking arsenal now.” I glance down at the basket, which is quickly filling up. “What else are you going to grab? Some mace? Brass knuckles?”
Beau doesn’t miss a beat when he adds, “I thought you’d never ask.”
He picks up three sets of daggers. Each one gleaming with lethal potential.
“These are for close combat. You’re strong, Aria, but a blade is always useful when things get up close and personal.
Or even for surprise attacks.” He grabs the first one, a sleek silver blade.
“You can keep this one in your boot, this one hangs around your neck and lands between your breasts, and then one goes on your belt.” He finishes throwing all three knives in the basket.
Then, he reaches for the mace. I chuckle despite myself. “Are we really doing this?”
“I’m not taking any chances,” he says, slipping it into the basket. Then, as though he’s done this a thousand times, he picks up the brass knuckles, sliding them into the palm of his hand. “These are for when you don’t want to kill, but you want to hurt. You can slip them on like rings.”
My mouth goes dry, and I glance at the growing pile of weapons. There are five guns, three daggers, a can of mace, a taser, and now two pairs of brass knuckles. “You really think I need all this?”
Beau looks over at me, his expression unreadable. “I think you need whatever it takes to keep you safe. Until I’m sure this motherfucker is dead, you’ll carry whatever I give you.”
I swallow hard, the weight of his words sinking in. I don’t like the idea of needing all of this protection, but I get it. He’s not just thinking about what’s best for him or even Jackson. He’s thinking about what is best for me.
“Fine,” I mutter, giving him a playful shove. “But you’re carrying the damn bag to the car. I’m not hauling around all this stuff.”
Beau laughs, a quiet understanding mixed with a fierce protectiveness. “Deal.”
We head toward the checkout counter. Today has made me wonder just how much darker this world of ours is going to get.
We reach the counter and walk up to a young guy, probably in his early twenties. He looks up at us and jumps up to the register. His eyes flick to Beau and then land on me, lingering just a second too long.
"Hey there," he says, his voice betraying his nervousness. He looks at the basket Beau empties onto the counter, eyes scanning the array of weapons before he starts scanning them one by one.
I notice the way his eyes flick back to me when he thinks I’m not looking. It’s subtle, but there’s that look. The kind of look I’ve seen too many times from guys who think they’ve got a shot. His gaze lingers longer than it should, and I almost feel the heat of it on my skin.
He rings up the first item, his fingers brushing over the handle of one of the guns, but his eyes? Still on me. It’s the same kind of stare that makes you want to reach over and slap someone upside the head.
I sigh, already over it. This is the last thing I need right now. My nerves are frayed, and I don't need some kid in a store thinking he can get away with acting like I’m some sort of toy while Beau’s right here.
Leaning forward over the counter, I rest my elbows on the icy surface, giving him a sweet smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “If you like those fingers, I'd keep your eyes off me. My boyfriend doesn't play nice with little boys who think they can win me over right in front of him.”
His smile falters for a split second, and I see his face drain of color. The realization hits him too late, and for a second, he freezes, caught between the fear of pissing off the guy who’s buying all this dangerous gear, and the nervous embarrassment of being called out.
I watch as he quickly shifts his focus back to the scanner, scanning the remaining items with a newfound urgency. His fingers tremble slightly as he works. He keeps his eyes down, and I can feel the tension.
A soft chuckle comes from Beau. There is a dangerous, possessive gleam in his eyes as he looks at me. “I think it’s sexy as hell when you put stupid people in their place like that.”
I smirk. “What, you think I like making grown men turn into a pile of nerves?”
Beau’s grin widens, his eyes flicking to the guy behind the counter, who’s now just trying to get the transaction done without saying another word.
The guy finishes bagging everything quickly, practically throwing the last items into the bag, and hands it over to Beau with a polite, strained smile.
Beau pulls out his wallet, swipes the card, and the guy hands him the receipt without another word.
As soon as we walk toward the exit, I can actually hear the guy breathe a sigh of relief.
We head back to the car, and I slide into the passenger seat, feeling that mixture of adrenaline and satisfaction.
Beau follows me in, slamming the door behind him with a quiet thud, and starts the engine.
The purr of the car fills the silence between us for a moment before Beau glances back over at me, his voice low and playful.
“You might have just scared that kid into never looking at another woman again.”
I shrug, trying to play it cool. “He’ll be fine. He learned his lesson.”
The car hums beneath us, steady as Beau's silence. But my thoughts are louder…someone knows. Someone's watching. And this world we just started to build already has a crack down the center.