Her brows pull in so tight, they almost touch. “You used it like you’d been doing it your whole life.”
“There was no room for a learning curve, Laine. I had to get it done, get you, get the fuck out.”
There was no time for nerves. No time to overthink what was happening. There was just bad shit going down, bullets flying, and fire crawling up her and Jess’ legs.
“Right.” Flushing a soft pink, she steps back when she remembers her hand and turns back to the car. “Do you still use guns? Have you still got the gun from that day?”
“The police took it later on, for evidence or whatever.”
She concentrates hard on a plastic hose that has absolutely no use in this car anymore. “You didn’t touch a gun again after that day?”
“Um…”Does she want me to say yes? Will that make her feel safer?“I don’t know what you want to hear right now.”
“The truth.” She looks up at me through long lashes. “Always the truth. I want to learn, Ang. I don’t want to hurt people, but thinking of you this morning made me feel safe. Thinking of you with that gun made me not sick anymore. I want to learn to defend myself.”
I draw in a long breath until my chest aches. “And learning to fight at the gym like Britt…”
“Is not at all what I mean. I don’t want to learn how to fight. If we’re close enough that I have to touch them, then I’m probably already dead. I don’t want to rely on my monsters getting close enough to touch before I can feel safe. I want something from far away. Something I can do before his hands are already around my throat and I freeze up.”
She puts these images in my head. Visions of a man’s hand around her delicate throat. Of her eyes bulging and tears glistening on her cheeks.
“I could probably ask Kane,” she begins. “He’ll do, but I–”
“No.”Fuck no!“I can take you.”Jesus. Let’s just give her a gun and pray she doesn’t hurt herself.“You don’t have one yet, do you?”
“No, but they’re hidden everywhere in this house. Nothing wakes a girl faster than when she’s making a cup of coffee and she grabs a gun instead of a spoon.”
Fuckin’, Bish.“I’ll talk to him about that.”
She grins. “He also has one in the bread bin.”
“Alright, I’ll–”
“Another taped under the dining table.”
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me right now?”
“There’s one taped to the side of the toilet.”
“Fuck me.”
She snorts. “There’s one under the step just over there. And then there’s the one he keeps on his bedside table that he pointed at me an hour ago.”
“He what?!”
“And about six hundred others. You should talk to him about it; I think he has more guns than we have shoes. MeandJess.Andprobably Jules, too.”
“That’s a lot of shoes.”
She nods seriously. “I think he has a shopping problem. I wonder if he has credit card debt?” She bites her lip in thought. “Do gangster gun sellers take credit cards?”
“No.” I roll my eyes. “You walk up to a gangster with a credit card and you’ll be in trouble.”
She snickers. “The old me would’ve. I was fearless.”
“And your fearlessness often scared the shit out of me. Now you’re asking to visit Spence, I’ll probably get shot, and then I won’t be able to drive my car for ages.”
“Or your bike. Don’t forget about that.”