An hour after they’d returned to the motel, the man at the front desk called Kegan to say there was a package for him. It was the MGL—in a plain brown wrapper, as promised. Kegan checked it when he got back to the room, before putting it back in its box for the time being.
The men slept together—but with no s*x involved—waking at five the next morning. They packed up what little they’d unpacked after arriving at the motel then took their gear down to the van. Each man wore jeans and T-shirts, as well as light jackets in deference to the cool morning, and baseball caps to shadow their faces.
“It’s sure not Louisiana, temperature-wise,” Gage commented as he attached his MOB holster, with its pistol, to his waistband before putting on his dark denim jacket.
“No kidding,” Ash agreed. “I’ll
