Apocalypse Queen: My Space, My Rules Chapter 89: The Ocean's Heart

Kieran gave up on responding.

...

Mariella messaged Kieran privately, "I have a batch of diesel generators. I want to sell them under your name. You can set your commission."

"Where did you get diesel generators? How many do you have?" Kieran replied instantly.

Mariella wrote back, "Stockpiled. All legally sourced. I can put twenty up for sale right now. Two point two pounds of gold per unit, or jewelry and gemstones of equivalent value."

She knew how scarce electricity would become in the apocalypse. She'd stockpiled a large number of diesel generators herself and had Chandler purchase another hundred in separate batches, along with over two hundred sets of noise-dampening equipment.

Of course, she was only selling the generators for now. The noise-dampening kits were a separate price entirely.

After a long pause, Kieran replied, "Deal. I'll put the word out in the owners' group chat. If anyone wants one, I'll send people to your place to pick them up."

Mariella set her phone down once the deal was locked.

The moment she looked up, she realized someone was standing directly in front of her. No noise. No warning.

A cold sweat broke across her skin. When she saw who it was, the tension on the back of her neck slowly eased.

Her guard was always up. Almost no one could get that close to her without her noticing. Chandler was the exception.

If he'd pulled a gun on her just now...

Her scalp prickled. At this rate, she was going to become paranoid.

"When did you get here? It's broad daylight, yet you're like a ghost—walking without making a sound..."

Chandler seemed completely unaware he'd nearly scared the life out of her. He held out a brown paper bag, looking perfectly innocent.

"Everyone went upstairs together last night after we got back. It wasn't the right time. Here."

Mariella took the bag and opened it. Inside was the Ocean's Heart necklace.

She pushed it back toward him. "It's yours. A gift."

Chandler froze. "A gift for what?"

He didn't exactly have a habit of wearing jewelry.

Besides, it was a woman's necklace.

Mariella blinked her clear eyes, half-joking, half-serious. "Think of it as a wedding gift for when you get married."

Chandler's pupils dilated. What was the boss playing at now?

She really couldn't go a single day without messing with him.

"Relax. I mean, for when you marry someone in the future. Save it for the wedding gift." Mariella clarified at her own pace.

By now, Chandler's nerves had clearly been trained well enough to take it. He responded with remarkable calm. "You're the one always saying the world's about to end. If that's the case, I'm not planning on getting married."

He pushed the paper bag back toward her.

"Just hold onto it. It's not going to eat your food." Mariella pushed it right back.

Last night, he'd helped her clean out that jewelry store, and everything they'd taken had gone straight into her storage space. The least she could do was let him keep one decent piece.

Chandler decided that tugging back and forth with her in the courtyard was a bad look, so he quietly accepted.

To defuse the awkwardness, Mariella changed the subject. "Who built this swing?"

Unsurprisingly, Chandler admitted it. "I did."

"Why the sudden urge to build a swing?"

She looked at the human-shaped target about 50 feet away. "Are you using the swing for shooting practice?"

"Mm." Chandler nodded. "Finished the team's monkey-swing shooting drill this morning."

"Monkey-swing shooting?" Mariella was visibly intrigued.

Chandler turned and handed her a nail gun. "Target practice while standing on a moving swing."

Mariella hopped off the seat, giving it a quick brush-off with her hand.

The whole team had been training on this swing all morning. And she'd been sitting on it this entire time without Chandler saying a word.

She was fairly certain he'd done it on purpose.

She took the nail gun and stepped onto the swing in one clean motion.

The swing immediately started rocking. Off-balance, she grabbed one of the ropes with her free hand and raised the nail gun with the other to aim.

She'd just lined up the target, finger on the trigger, when the swing lurched forward. Chandler had pushed it.

She nearly fell off.

Her reflexes saved her. She caught herself and steadied up.

"What are you doing? Playing dirty." She wasn't angry, just surprised.

Since when did the by-the-book Captain Zimmer pull pranks? It didn't seem like him.

"Monkey-swing training is about the swing. Hitting the target while your center of gravity is shifting and your body is rocking hard. That's the point." As he spoke, Chandler pushed harder, sending the swing flying up and back.

Mariella went quiet.

Good thing she had a solid grip. Anyone else would have been thrown off immediately. Shooting? Hitting a target?

Chandler gave her a look, his tone almost daring. "Can't do it?"

That did it. "Of course, I can."

She instantly turned herself into an octopus. Her flexible left arm coiled around one side of the rope like a vine, her body weight leaning into that same rope.