"He leaned down and removed the gag. "Where am I?" Samantha croaked.He smiled. "Just relax, miss. His Highness wants to see you."She gasped, "His High...ess?"The small man bowed. "His Royal Highness, the Sultan of Al Banyan, Rashid al Abdul-lan."Oh, God! A harem! Samantha thought in terror."I'm in a harem?"The man chuckled. "No, miss. You are to be the sultan's mistress. A very high honor, I must say." Who are you?" Servant to the sultan, my name is Malik. And it is my duty to see that you are. A small factory, already known to DC. A small factory, churning out gun parts with no serial numbers. Legal, because they weren’t selling guns — just kits.Ghost guns, like bump stocks, were pretty much a dead end. For me at least.I needed serial numbers. Real ones, accurate ones.Vanessa and I were sipping wine, lazily looking out our Main Street windows. Holding hands, Leon Redbone instrumentals in the background.Pilar came in and sat beside me, took a sip of wine. She spoke casually — she. More

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