“You’re right.” Sasha slid down, gave Annika’s hand a squeeze. “It was a nice break, to just sit for a while.”
“See any ravens?” Riley asked.
Sasha frowned. “Ravens?”
“I’ll explain. We actually picked up more than pizza and guns, in the information department.” She led the way in, considered, then grabbed the bottle of wine to take upstairs.
“While you were gone,” Annika began, “Sasha and I helped Bran. He’s making a fire shield.”
“Cool. Is that a shield against fire, or a shield of fire?”
“Both! You’re so clever.”
“If he pulls that one off, I’d say Bran wins the clever award.” She headed for the sound of male voices, and into the sitting room—handy between her room and Doyle’s—where the three men loaded boxes of ammo into an antique display cabinet.
“Edwardian,” Riley noted. “Circa 1900. Nice.”
“You do know everything,” Sasha commented.
“You gotta try. Not its original intent, but it works, and it’ll make it easy to keep track of inventory. Still, maybe we should take a share of it to the main level.”
“Doyle said the same.” Bran stepped back. “Kitchen panty, I’m thinking.”
“And that works, too.” Riley looked over as Sawyer unzipped one of the rifle cases. “It’s got a kick,” she told him.
“It looks very mean.”
Understanding, Riley gave Annika’s back a pat. “It is mean. We’re going to need mean.”
“You stick with your Wonder Woman cuffs.” At Sawyer’s comment, Annika rubbed the copper bracelets Bran had conjured for her. “You don’t have to touch these.”
For himself, Sawyer opened the terrace door, took the rifle out, tested its weight, dry fired a few times.
“We tested it at about fifty yards. We need to practice more distance.” Riley unloaded the second rifle herself, offered it to Sasha. “Get a feel.”
Long resigned to weaponry, Sasha took it. “It’s heavy.”
“Compared to your bow or a handgun, sure. But not for what it is. We’ll work in some practice tomorrow, after the dive.”
“We dive tomorrow.” The tension in Annika’s face dissolved. “This is much better. I can show you some caves, but the water will be much colder for you than the waters in Capri or Corfu.”
“We’ll manage.” Riley topped off Annika’s glass, Sasha’s, then her own. “What do you say, a box of each caliber, a quiver of bolts, down in the pantry? Rotate them from here as we go.”
Because he felt he’d earned a drink himself, and hers was handy, Doyle took Riley’s glass, downed half of it. “It’ll do. But I think now we should have bought a third rifle—he had a Remington in stock. We could keep that in the pantry, have another on the main level if needed.”
“Hindsight.” Riley snatched her glass back. “We can go back if we decide we need another.”
“You said you’d picked up more,” Sasha reminded her. “Information.”
“Yeah, we did. I vote we go down, get into the pizza. I had to smell it all the way home, and I’m ready to eat.”
“Don’t have to ask me twice. I’m going to take this down now,” Sawyer said, rifle in hand. “I’d like to try it out after we eat.”
When they started down with the main floor supplies, Sasha held Bran back.
“Something happened between them—Riley and Doyle.”
“They argued? Not surprising.”