Chapter 327： Dolan Church in New York

soon.

The police car roared and drove straight out of the airport!

"what?"

Sitting in the back seat, just turned on his cell phone, and was about to ask whether Locke was Gwen in the hotel or not. He glanced at the corner of the eye, and then noticed that it was outside, walking on the road, pulling it with him, neat and uniform. Well, the dozen or so weirdos I saw on the plane.

It was snowing heavily.

"Did they... don't have a car?"

"Ah!"

George glanced at it and smiled: "It may be that their friends didn't do things well either. They feel guilty and don't have the face to come and pick them up."

Just like Copp.

The Peerless Assassin is as cunning as a mouse, you can't catch it, I don't blame you.

But a Syndra?

What happened to the witch?

A woman, you can't keep it?

Despise you!

Gwen listened to George's words full of resentment towards Cope, shook his head, changed the subject, thought about the bags of the few people just now, and asked curiously, "Will these few people come here to hunt? "

The officer driving the car laughed: "Come hunting in New Orleans, unless they're hunting witches."

Gwen blinked, listening to the driving officer.

"Witch?"

"right."

The police officer smiled and said, "New Orleans, but it has witch culture and voodoo culture, as well as some vampire culture and werewolf culture. It can be regarded as a modern supernatural capital."

talking.

The police officers are very familiar, and they relish the stories of witches and vampires in New Orleans.

Sitting next to him is the senior superintendent of the New York Police Department.

Big man!

If this makes his daughter happy, and the big man is happy, then he can run from New Orleans to New York, that kind of big city.

It's the same patrol officer, but the patrol officer in New York is much better than the patrol officer in New Orleans.

I heard that there are less black skins there.

"A gathering of witches?"

"right."

"New Year's Eve?"

"Well, just over there in the city park."

Gwen blinked, turned on the mobile phone network, typed in, and prepared to make up the class.

George turned his head and glanced, then looked at Gwen curiously, and pointed to Gwen's little hand: "The fluff is up again, is it cold?"

Gwen recovered, looked at the fluff that was raised again, blinked, pressed the fluff down, and shook his head: "It was a little cold when I came out, but it's not cold now."

George hummed.

Gwen shook his sleeves and shook his big ponytail.

The fluff curls up from time to time...

Pretty weird.

Gwen thought so in his heart, and then he was quickly attracted by an event announcement refreshed on the Internet: "On December 31, the New Orleans City Park will hold the once-in-a-hundred-year witch gathering, welcome to participate, The rules of the event, you must dress up as a witch... This is good, Locke and I can go over there to see."

The police officer said with a smile: "Many clothing stores on the road have special witch clothes for rent."

Gwen looked up: "Really?"

George, who was sitting in the co-pilot, laughed directly: "Rent, you came so far, that wild boar, willing to rent clothes for you?"

When he thought that he had come all the way, and that he might have gained nothing, George was speechless in his heart.

Impulsive.

I bring my baby girl at home, isn't it sweet?

Baby girl means Andy, not Gwen.

Even lying has become like someone else's family, and George has completely given up struggling.

As a senior management of the New York Police Department, although his vacation can be filled up like other senior police officers, he is a serious police officer, so George gave himself only a few days off, and then he went back work.

Good now.

One of the few vacations was directly buried on this wild boar who was not a policeman but liked to solve crimes.

When the time comes, go back, this wild boar takes his Chinese cabbage, which has already changed hands, to Canada for skiing happily, and he is going to go back to work hard.

The more George thought about it, the more he had the urge to turn around and go back to the airport and take a plane back to New York.

MMP!

When Lao Tzu was a son-in-law, he was angry with his father-in-law. Now, he is the father-in-law of that wild boar. In the future, he is also angry with this wild boar son-in-law?

What am I picturing him?

With a few stinky money, you can do whatever you want?

This unscientific!

no!

Before I go back, I have to scold Cope.

Damn, I can't even keep a girl!

Listening to George's words, Gwen shook his head: "Dad, Locke's money didn't come from the wind."

George smiled.

"Indeed, if the wind blows, he has to bend over to pick it up. He doesn't need it."

"..."

Gwen listened to the sour words, and George, whose expression was probably also sour, opened his mouth, trying to explain, but, blinking his eyes, gave up.

Ok.

Locke's money is indeed easier than the wind.

After two lawsuits, he became a billionaire directly.

wrong!

Gwen's eyes lit up: "Dad, Locke's money was earned by risking his life."

George: "..."

For the first time, Homeland Security nearly turned Locke into a terrorist.

The second time, the London side directly sent someone to assassinate Locke and her.

Thankfully it didn't work.

Gwen thought so in his heart, and then smiled: "Dad, otherwise, I will invite you to live in Hilton too."

She also has money.

Although most of the money was deposited into a joint account with Locke, the house on Long Island was also bought before Christmas. By Christmas, the house on Long Island had been promoted by $100, which is equivalent to the total price. To calculate, it can be said to make a lot of money.

However, that is the money in the joint account.

But for the next month's scholarship, Midtown University has already called. Although Gwen still plans to save a little, and then continue to invest in a common account with Locke, save money to buy a house on Manhattan Island to live in in the future, but, Gwen can afford to pay George to stay in a five-star hotel.

When George heard this, his heart warmed.

Still refused.

Come to New Orleans, don't live with my brother, live in a hotel, what is it like?

When Hank came to New York, George didn't let Hank stay in the hotel either.

When brothers come, they should live together, drink beer, burp, brag!

Seeing George say this, Gwen also smiled, without forcing it, looking at the getting closer and closer outside the window, suddenly thought that he hadn't confirmed with Locke whether he was in the hotel or not, so he quickly took out his mobile phone and edited the text message.

If this ran over and the result was empty, it would not be a surprise.

"Ding dong!"

"Ok?"

in the hotel.

Locke sat on the sofa, sipping his glass, watching Gwen send a message, and smiled.

"Where are you, I heard it snowed over there."

"Well, at the hotel, it's snowing."

Where else can I be?

Locke got up, held a glass of wine, walked to the balcony, looked outside, seemed to plan to use white snow to cover up the wicked blizzard that was not far away from Lake Laili, and smiled.

Squat down, then, sit and wait for the witches' meeting in two days.

Get things done.

Go back to New York, find Gwen, and then go skiing in Canada together. After that, go back to school and start a pleasant trip to earn points.

at this time.

The wind howled.

Locke looked at the purple cloud passing by in front of his eyes, turned to look, and in the cloud, Carrie came out and sat on the sofa, looking at the ceiling.

Locke smiled, re-entered the living room, walked to the bar, poured a glass of bourbon, and then handed it to Carrie in a trance.

Carrie looked back.

"I do not……"

"Chester gave me a drink when I left school, tradition!"

"……Ok."

Carrie listened to these words, took the cup, sniffed, and then drank the bourbon directly from the cup.

next second.

Carrie flushed, then coughed.

Locke sat next to him, sipping his glass of wine, and after waiting for a while, looked at Carrie, whose face was gradually returning to her rosy and lustrous face, and smiled: "Well, it feels much better."

Carrie was about to shake her head, then, taken aback, nodded.

"Is this some kind of home remedy?"

"No."

Locke shook his head and said, "It's alcohol at work."

Alcohol can inhibit people's thinking, people, don't go crazy about other things.

Carrie looked at Bourbon, which had been set aside, and at Locke.

Locke shrugged.

Then……

Locke looked at Carrie who was about to drink the third glass, raised his eyebrows, and put away the remaining bourbon: "Wine is a good thing, but don't be addicted!"

He didn't want his Dark Führer to become an alcoholic.

Carrie blushed and looked at Locke curiously: "How did you do it?"

Locke smiled: "Do what?"

"not give a **** about?"

"I care."

Locke looked at Carrie with a serious expression: "I care about every life that respects life, the only ones I don't care about are those who don't respect life, those people are just the filth of the world, if you think so, you will feel better already."

Carrie shook her head. "No, I mean, Lake Larry..."

She didn't even think at first that there was actually a witch cemetery in Lake Larry!

so many……

Locke sighed and said, "I care, if I am a witch, believe me, it will not be those people who died."

If he were a witch.

The Vatican is about to explode!

what he said.

God is coming, it is useless, even if Gu Yi blocks the way!

He is the player.

It is destiny.

What is the player's mentality?

At the same time as playing the human world, there is more, if I want to have it, the sky will not allow it to exist, and if I want to have nothing, the sky will not allow it to exist.

From the beginning to the present, no one can survive what he wants to kill!

but……

He's not a witch At least, Rock Broughton is not a witch.

Ok.

but……

Locke looked at Carrie, who was a witch, looking at the endless witch corpses in Lake Riley, who clearly felt that something was hurt, and smiled: "The headquarters of the Dolan Church is in New York, maybe, after we go back, you You can go over there and I'll help you."

Carrie looked up at Locke.

Dolan Church...

Not yet perished?

...

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