Then Benny set the hard case down on one of Donna’s patio chairs, which made her make a tiny offended sound until he opened it and she saw what was inside.
Not guns.
Worse for civilians, probably.
Radios. Earpieces. Printed maps. A compact drone. Two trauma kits. A folded ballistic panel.
My uncle Gary put down his beer. “What the hell kind of paperwork continue reading …
