Page 41 of Toxic Things I Love About You

“Do not call me that in here. I have a reputation to maintain.”

She skipped along and I realized that just walking in there with her was most likely going to fuck with that reputation anyway. Still, this was an upscale place free of law enforcement, but it was neutral ground. How that was a thing I didn’t know, but the owner knew her way around a gun and that somehow meant she was able to stay in her own world.

“What took you so long? Are you getting old on me?” Emilee asked as I reached for the door a step in front of her.

“Excuse me? I am not old just because you’re practically a fetus.”

She ducked under my arm and went inside, ignoring me or perhaps just trading me in for the new environment.

“Wow. Look at all these guns. Can I buy any of them?”

Shit. How in the hell was I supposed to take her seriously?

“Parks and I are having a very long conversation if you’ve never been to even buy a damn gun.”

She backed up and stopped next to me. Her hands wrapped around my arm, and she looked up at me in a way that said she knew exactly how to play me and every other damn man on this planet.

“Oh, Romy-poo. Remember how I told you I’ve been locked away in my little tower? Well, there weren’t many gun shops out there. But, if it makes you feel better, I did sneak away once and found my way into a gun shop. Just the once though, and my bodyguards caught me before I could do any damage.”

Both of us turned to the sound of gum popping.

“Hey there, Roman, what can I do you for?”

She was eyeing Emilee.

“Shooting. And what do you have that she could handle? Better than this.”

I pointed to the gun she was claiming as her own, which was fine. Didn’t bother me. But the thing was literally the length of her forearm.

“Something for distance as well as damage,” I added.

Mary, the redhead who ran the range and shop, sized up Emilee, but it was for exactly what I’d asked for. To find something right for her.

“Roman, how is she on a first name basis with you?”

Emilee’s eyes were slits as she watched Mary walk back.

“Why, Butterfly, are you jealous?”

She scoffed, but something told me if I wasn’t careful, Mary would be making her way into Emilee's little list of dead bodies.

“Calm yourself. I’ve had business with her for years. Her dad played poker at my clubs for years. God rest his soul.”

Mary popped her gum again and placed the gun gently on a small mat on the glass.

“Try this one out. Should be a good weight. The recoil isn’t bad either. It’s got some good range and is small enough that she can hide it much better than that one. Who gave her that anyway? That looks like something you’d shoot.”

Emilee ran a finger over the cold metal.

“It’s Roman’s. He gave it to me when some bitch was hitting on him.”

I watched Mary and glanced back at Emilee. Emilee wasn’t looking up, too busy focusing on the gun, and Mary? Well, a second later, she was laughing.

“Oh, honey. If that was a threat, you’re fine. I don’t need a man, not one as controlling as Roman, for sure. All yours. But glad you got a bitch. I do not believe in cheating or the people that feel like it’s okay to try.”

Emilee seemed satisfied, like she’d just won some contest, and as she walked away in the wrong direction, I assumed she was ready to move on and learn how to really shoot.

Or maybe shoot me. I’d just be a little more cautious with her. I couldn’t blame anyone but myself though.

---