The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 725

"I'll go through hell and high water for you. As long as it doesn't involve betraying the Boss, consider it done."

Leilani was slightly amused by his dramatic pledge and quickly reached out to stop him from taking another bow.

"Alright, alright. I'm just glad you're fully recovered."

Callahan watched the exchange with a faint smirk. He pulled Leilani closer and cast a look at Arnold.

"Stop putting on a show in the middle of the lobby. Is the car ready?"

"Fueled and waiting!"

At Callahan's command, Arnold immediately straightened up, his professional demeanor snapping back into place as he led them outside.

"As per your instructions, our first stop is Jacko's Armory. I've already smoothed everything over with him."

As he walked, he glanced back at Leilani with a grin. "Boss Lady, when we get there, if you have any questions about the gear, just ask me."

"Or, well, ask the Boss."

"Considering how close you two are now, he'd probably prefer you ask him anyway."

Obviously, buying weapons meant getting hands-on, and Arnold knew better than to third-wheel. More importantly, he knew firsthand how territorial Callahan could get. If he accidentally stepped on his Boss's toes, he'd probably find himself reassigned to a frozen tundra somewhere.

Right on cue.

Arnold's teasing remark earned him a warning glare from Callahan. "Are you asking for a demotion?"

Arnold instantly shrank back, pantomiming zipping his lips shut, though his eyes still danced with mischief.

Leilani couldn't help but laugh at the dynamic between the two.

Arnold parked and walked up to a heavy metal roll-up door, rapping his knuckles against it in a specific, rhythmic sequence.

A small viewing slot slid open. A pair of sharp eyes scanned the alley, locking onto Arnold. The slot snapped shut, and the heavy metal door began to rumble upward with a deafening grind.

Inside was a massive, cavernous space thick with the distinct odors of gun oil, leather, and machined metal.

Tactical vests, combat apparel, and holsters hung neatly on the walls. Glass display counters housed an array of high-precision optics and encrypted comms gear, while a few rugged men in cargo pants spoke in hushed tones in the corner.

A rugged man in his fifties with sharp Asian features emerged from a back room, a microfiber cloth in hand, looking as though he had just been polishing a piece of hardware.

This was Jacko. He clearly went way back with Callahan. The moment he spotted him, a wide grin broke across his face.

"Callahan! Long time no see."

Just as Jacko finished his greeting, he noticed someone standing slightly behind his old friend.