The soldier holding the gun was furious at Roy's words and moved to cock the hamr to intimidate him further.
But he didn't expect Roy to reach for the gun. Thinking Roy was trying to snatch it, the soldier instinctively pulled the trigger.
The mont he did, he regretted it—his orders weren't to kill Roy.
Then, sothing shocking happened: Roy caught the bullet with his bare hand. Both n stood there, jaws practically on the floor.
Roy gave the two soldiers a cold stare.
"I'm giving you one chance to choose your words carefully."
The soldiers felt their scalps tingle. Their confidence ca from the firearms in their hands, but Roy had just shown them that guns were useless against him. They were at a loss for words or actions.
At that mont, Gerald rushed in with a few FEA agents.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
Roy crossed his arms, smirking at Gerald.
"Just having a friendly chat with these two fine Arican soldiers, right?"
The soldiers didn't dare shake their heads. If guns couldn't stop Roy, what could they do?
Gerald knew exactly why these two were here—soone had tipped him off, which is why he got there so fast.
"You two, care to explain what General Hamr's up to?"
The soldiers stiffened but managed to reply.
"General Hamr wants to invite Mr. Black to dinner."
Gerald didn't need to think hard to know these two had botched the invitation and pissed Roy off.
If it were Gerald, he'd have sent two pretty female soldiers in crisp uniforms—Roy would've been tripping over himself to attend.
"Since General Hamr's inviting Mr. Black to dinner, mind if I tag along?"
The soldiers exchanged a glance, then nodded silently.
Gerald turned to Roy.
"Mr. Black, fancy a trip to an aircraft carrier with ?"
That piqued Roy's interest.
"I've never been on one. Hope the food's worth it."
And so, Roy and Gerald followed the soldiers, taking a lifeboat to board the aircraft carrier.
The carrier felt different. Its deck was about the sa height as the top deck of the San Diego.
And General Hamr had set up a dining table right on the flight deck for their al—apparently not worried about the wind blowing too hard.
Hamr was surprised to see Gerald with Roy. When he glanced at the two soldiers he'd sent, their uneasy expressions told him sothing had gone down.
As a lieutenant general, Hamr understood basic social dynamics, but for the sake of his image, he sotis had to play the hardass.
"Mr. Orin, didn't expect you to show up."
"General Hamr, am I not welco?"
Hamr forced a stiff smile and waved for the soldiers to grab another chair.
The three sat around a square table on the carrier's deck.
Roy looked around curiously. In both his lives, this was his first ti on an aircraft carrier.
But staying on the deck wasn't that exciting. He'd need to go inside to see the cool stuff.
Hamr, though, seed intent on keeping Roy out of the carrier's interior—hence the table on the deck.
Hamr chatted stiffly with Gerald for a bit before the chef started serving.
"Try this special roasted lamb chop."
Three elegant plates were placed on the table, each with a sizable lamb chop that looked tempting.
But Roy curled his lip. This tiny portion wouldn't even fill the gaps in his teeth.
Hamr noticed Roy's expression.
"Mr. Black, don't like the dish?"
Roy grinned.
"Just wondering if this lamb is that million-dollar golden lamb."
Hamr's face darkened.
"Who told you that?"
No way—were they already pulling the $6 million for nine lambs stunt?
"I forgot who ntioned it. Problem?"
Hamr couldn't admit there was an issue without incriminating himself, so he just glared at Roy, setting a sour tone for the evening.
Gerald sensed trouble and tried to change the subject.
"General Hamr, what's the reason for inviting Mr. Black?"
Hamr glanced at Gerald but dodged the question.
"That's classified military business. I can't share."
He was clearly stonewalling, and Gerald wasn't pleased.
"General Hamr, Mr. Black is FEA. You got a problem with him, you go through ."
Gerald's tone turned sharp.
Clearly, if Hamr didn't explain, Roy's temper could make things ssy.
To keep things from escalating, Gerald had to push harder.
Hamr frowned, annoyed at Gerald's attitude, but he knew he was in the wrong. Even if this went to the White House, he'd have no ground to stand on.
Reluctantly, Hamr explained.
"I have a top-secret mission for Mr. Black. My earlier actions were just to test if he's up to the task."
Roy shot Hamr a surprised look, thinking, You call that a test? Keep it up, and I'll knock your head off.
Hamr's explanation didn't satisfy Gerald, who pressed further.
"If it's a mission, you should've inford FEA. Roy's our agent!"
Gerald's relentless questioning started to irk Hamr.
"The military doesn't answer to you, Mr. Orin!"
"Black's my guy, so I have every right to ask!"
The two went head-to-head over Roy, but Roy was busy savoring the lamb chop.
It was delicious—tender, juicy, and free of any gay taste.
Sha there wasn't more. Roy polished it off in a few bites.
Then, as Hamr and Gerald glared at each other, Roy piped up.
"Excuse , got any more lamb chops?"
Hamr shot Roy a look and called his aide.
"Get him another portion!"
"Wait, one's not enough! Just roast a whole lamb and bring it over."
Roy didn't hold back, directing Hamr's aide, who hesitated and looked to Hamr.
Hamr's mood soured further, dropping all formalities.
"Kid, you think you can eat a whole lamb?"
"Heh! Bring three lambs, and I'll still finish them!"
Back at the cruise ship's restaurant, Hamr's soldiers had interrupted Roy's al just as he'd started, so he'd barely eaten.
This lamb was nowhere near enough!
Hamr glared at Roy.
"Fine! I hate big talkers. I'll have the chef prepare three lambs' worth of at. You eat it all in front of , and I'll let today's incident slide. If you can't… hmph!"
Gerald caught on and gave Roy a subtle look, their eyes locking in silent communication.
Back at the Dolphin Hotel in L.A., Gerald had seen Roy's insane appetite. It was already wild then, and it was probably even crazier now.
Gerald: Black, you got this?
Roy: No problem at all!
Gerald: Alright, I'm setting a trap for this guy. Watch my cues!
Watch his cues?
Roy stared at Gerald's dark face, thinking, How the hell am I supposed to read that?
Before he could ask Gerald to clarify, Gerald was already looking at Hamr with mock concern.
"General Hamr, how's anyone supposed to eat three lambs? That's unfair!"
Hamr crossed his arms, unwavering.
"He said it himself! A soldier keeps his word!"
"But Black's not a soldier. He doesn't have to!"
Gerald's defiance nearly pushed Hamr to spit out a certain N-word.
"Then what do you want?"
"If you're betting against Black, shouldn't you put sothing on the line?"
"I said if Black finishes three lambs, I won't pursue his mistakes today!"
"Black didn't make any mistakes! He reported the Color Out of Space—he's got rit!"
Gerald didn't give Hamr an inch, pointing out the flaw in his words, which infuriated Hamr.
"Then what do you want?!"
The words practically squeezed through Hamr's gritted teeth—he was livid.
"General Hamr, you're a soldier, so I'll be straight. Let's make a bet. If Roy can't finish three lambs, he and I are at your rcy. But if he does, you tell us who sent you after him!"
"Deal!"
Hamr blurted out the word but imdiately realized his mistake.
"Wait, you're baiting ?"
Gerald dropped the tough act, a faint smile on his face.
"General Hamr, a soldier keeps his word."
Hamr had just said that, so he couldn't back out now.
"Fine! Let's see if Mr. Black can eat three lambs. If he can't, you're both done!"
Hamr knew he'd been played but had to save face.
Gerald gestured to Roy, signaling it was his ti to shine.
Roy flashed an OK sign.
Soon, the chef brought out a massive platter of lamb. Roy dove in like a storm.
The sheer volu ant this batch wasn't as refined as the earlier chop, but the quality of the at was top-notch, so it still tasted great.
Hamr watched, wide-eyed, as Roy demolished the platter. The kicker? Roy's stomach barely bulged, aning he could keep going.
Plate after plate vanished into Roy's gut. Hamr's expression went from a frown to shock to complete numbness.
He'd lived a lifeti's worth of emotions in one al.
In the end, Roy ate eight lambs' worth of at before leaning back, satisfied.
"Burp! Man, I haven't eaten this well in ages!"
Even at ho, no one had the ti or energy to cook this much for Roy, so he was usually half-hungry. This was a rare treat.
Gerald glanced at Roy's slightly bloated stomach, his lips twitching. He'd known Roy could eat, but this much?
If Roy had eaten like this at the Dolphin Hotel, he might've bankrupted the place.
"Ahem! General Hamr, Black's eaten eight lambs' worth. Anything to say?"
Hamr glared at Gerald.
"I keep my word. No need for reminders!"
Hamr knew Gerald had trapped him, and he was pissed, but he honored the bet.
"Recently, a project I'm overseeing hit a 'small snag.' Our partner, Armacham Corporation, suggested an FEA agent nad Roy Black to handle it."
Roy and Gerald exchanged a look. Armacham Corporation again?
That company was like a bad penny. Last ti, they'd sent a senior FEA agent to ss with Roy, but Gerald caught them.
FEA headquarters had issued a stern warning to Armacham, and things had been quiet for a few months.
Guess Armacham was getting restless again.
"General Hamr, was the suggestion from soone nad Bartholow?"
Roy couldn't help but ask.
Hamr looked at Roy oddly.
"Bartholow? The COO of Armacham? Why would she suggest this?"
Not Bartholow? Then who?
Gerald voiced Roy's thoughts.
"General Hamr, can you tell us who made the suggestion?"
Hamr's face twisted, clearly wrestling with the question. This was military classified info.
Spill, and he'd leak secrets. Stay quiet, and he'd break his promise.
After a long pause, Hamr growled at Gerald.
"All I'll say is it ca from the project's research team."
Research team?
Roy was even more confused. He didn't know any of Armacham's researchers.
Gerald shot Roy a look, likely guessing who it was.
Their goal for the night achieved, Gerald prepared to leave with Roy.
"General Hamr, thanks for the hospitality. It's getting late, so we'll take our leave."
"Wait!"
Kelly Brook's pics are so hard to get approved…
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