Page 8 of Pretty Psychos
I carefully locked the door behind us and stalked over to grab a gun off the shelf.
"That's a gun," Sable said cheerfully.
I rolled my eyes at her. "No shit, Sherlock. Thanks for the clarification. I thought it was a potato peeler."
She cocked her head at me. She was too fucking cute to be in my presence. I hated myself for pulling a knife on her the night we met. Hated the fear in her eyes, even while she was smart-talking me back. I could have killed her. Where would we be then? Possibly in graves side by side, since Forrest would have torn my head off if I followed through.
"Could you aim with enough precision to peel a potato with it?" She was taunting me. The woman was always doing that. Trying to annoy the shit out of me and keep me on my toes.
If I was Superman, which I'm fucking not, Sable Kohl would be my kryptonite. The fact she was dressed in a green sweater right now only served to back up that assumption. The color looked good on her. It complimented her dark hair and pretty eyes.
What can I say? I liked her in green. And yeah, out of it too.
"Of course I could," I said. "But we're not here to appreciate my accuracy. We're here to show you how to use this thing so you don't shoot yourself in the face. See this part?" I pointed at the barrel. "Always keep this end away from yourself or anyone you don't want to kill."
She snorted. "I already knew that part."
"Then you're doing better than most people," I said.
I handed her the gun. "You know where your finger goes."
She wrapped it around the trigger, holding the gun like someone who'd never fired one before. That tentative way, like it might somehow go off without her pulling the trigger. Or maybe she'd putjustenough pressure on it to shoot, as if it had a hair trigger.
"Don't treat it like it's going to blow up in your face," I told her. "It's not a cock."
She laughed. "You do have a sense of humor."
"Of course I do," I said. "I hang out with Forrest and Leif, don't I? A guy has to, or he'd end up stabbing them in the neck."
Before she could say something, because I knew she was about to, I added, "Yes, I know, they have to have a sense of humor to hang around with me, too. I never said I was a walk in the park."
"Are you always so hard on yourself?" she asked, turning so the barrel of the gun was pointed right at my chest.
I raised a hand and pushed it away, toward the wall. "Don't point that thing at me. Yes, I am. Don't feel sorry for me, I'm fine. Now here, that's the safety. It's on right now, sorry, youcouldn't have shot me. But if you flick that, it'll be off and you could do some damage."
"Is that an offer?" she asked, laughing.
"You're not using me for target practice," I told her. "I'll take you to the range later. It's a good idea to get some actual practice." Shame we couldn't take a few potshots at people that deserved it, but there were still laws against that. Probably a good thing, if I'm honest. People would take pot shots at me.
"Is it loaded?" she asked.
"Good question," I said.
Did she need to learn how to handle a loaded gun? Her waving one around would scare the shit out of most people. Nothing much was scarier than someone who was armed but didn't know how to use the weapon properly. Accidents happened.
I spent the next few minutes showing her how to load and unload the gun. Got her to do it a couple of times herself. She'd manage in a pinch. With any luck, it wouldn't come to that.
"Why was Forrest so certain we were safe after those guys blew the door in last night?" she asked. "They could have been an advance party or something. However that works." She shrugged her slim shoulders.
I took the gun from her fingers, made sure the safety was on before placing it back on the shelf.
"Because he didn't only call for a clean-up crew. He called for a security detail around the building."
Forrest wasn't perfect, but he wasn't taking any chances with her safety, or that of the rest of us. Mostly her, though. Priorities.
"Security detail," she echoed. "Won't that look suspicious?"
"Nah." I leaned against the wall and crossed my ankles. "Forrest gets all sorts of death threats. It comes with the territory of being a judge. This isn't the first time, or the last, he's had tocall people in. Knowing him, he'll keep them around for a while. If anyone comes after us, they'll have to go through them first."
