Page 43 of Liar's Heart
He walks over to a sideboard and sets the three trays brought with him down before collecting two more from the locked cabinet underneath. He sits down in the armchair across from us, depositing two trays onto the coffee table between us. “Not that it's ever worked. It pays to have the best security tech on the market and a friend who is happy to help keep your systems ahead of everyone else.” He nods toward Ender, indicating the friend he means. “The vast majority of our security measures are courtesy of your husband.”
Ender gestures with his glass to acknowledge the compliment before setting it on the end table. He slides the tray closest to him so it’s directly in front of us. Seven knives are laid out on the charcoal velvet. All are fixed-blade combat, though they vary in length and design. My eye catches an all-black number, about twelve inches long, with a rubberized grip, short guard, and tanto blade. I pick it up to get a better feel for it. Theo tells me the specifications in succinct detail. “Eight-inch tanto blade. Great for piercing and stabbing.”
“I like the rubberized grip on this one,” I let him know. “Easier to hold onto when they're slick.”
He nods, tucking that detail away while I return the knife to its spot and pick up the next one. Same grip style, but the blade has a little upturn to the tip. Not enough to be a gut hook, but enough to feel menacing. Theo rattles off the specs for it while I test the balance and weight in my hand. After playing around with the knife for another minute or so, I flip it and hold it out to Theo. “This one, please.”
He takes it from me and sets it on the end table while Ifinish browsing the first tray. Nothing else entices me, so I slide it over in front of Ender and grab the second tray. This one is butterfly knives and switchblades—not my style at all, so it joins the first in line for Ender's consideration. Theo waits until Ender passes along the first tray before taking it back to the sideboard and returning with two new trays.
The third tray holds throwing knives. I feel myself brighten as I run my fingers over the cool steel. “Merrick is an exceptional knife thrower.” Ender’s voice startles me out of my reverie. He's watching me pet these knives like a weirdo, but his eyes shine with pride. “I've never seen her miss. Maybe if you're lucky, she'll show you.”
Theo’s grin is wicked. “There's nothing quite like a deadly woman.”
Ender's eyes are still on me, pride now mingling with hunger as he replies, “No. There's nothing quite like a deadly wife.”
“But the longand the short of it is I’m now the owner of a strip club I want nothing to do with, yeah.” Theo concludes his story with a long pull from his glass. The past hour and a half has been filled with equal parts shopping and storytelling, and I’ve loved every second of it. I’m coming to learn that underneath that polished exterior, Theo Walsh is hiding a hell of a wild streak. I would say Theo’s mouth loves to write checks his ass can’t cash, but it seems the man has an uncanny ability to land on his feet even when he shouldn't. Somehow, that endears him to me even more.
“There are worse things they could have given you as payment,” I drawl. I’m still debating between two pistols while we chat. I probably should take them both to the range and test them there, but we already have nine set aside between the two of us, and I feel like one more will be about the limit of what I want to mess with tonight.
“Definitely,” Theo agrees. “I think my favorite alternative payment proposal was a tiger. Like a real, live Siberian tiger. I get that they’re endangered and worth a lot, but don’t try to pay me in anything I have to feed. No, a strip club is too obvious. Draws too much attention. Nothingsays ‘perhaps we should dig around in this one’s financials’ quite like owning a goddamn strip club. Especially when the previous owners were mafia and did fuck all to hide it.”
Ender has relaxed into the corner of the couch, one ankle resting on a knee and a mostly empty glass dangling from his fingers. “So sell it,” Ender suggests. “Take the money and walk. Or dissolve the current business and put a new one in its place that’s a better front.”
Theo sighs, releasing some of that charisma he wields so easily right along with his breath. The corners of his eyes pinch a little tighter, and his face turns a little haunted. “You ever work with Bratva?” he asks Ender.
My husband shakes his head. “No.”
Theo pointedly looks at Ender and grunts, “Don’t.”
Ender nods but doesn’t comment further. Whatever mess his friend has landed himself in, it's clear we've reached the limit of what he's going to say about it. Clearing my throat, I hand over both guns to be added to the collection. “Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm ready to hit the range.”
That seems to snap Theo out of his brooding. All three of us stand, and I take our glasses back to the bar. Theo returns the rest of his stock to the sideboard and locks it up while Ender surveys the damage we’ve done tonight. Not including firearms, we have quite the haul between the two of us. I didn’t bring any of my collection with me when I moved, so my house stays stocked just in case we ever need to use it. But now that I don’t have to try to hide this side of myself anymore, I miss having my own weapons to choose from. I’m not much of a collector—I only really have knives I intend to use. But the bad thing about melee weapons is they tend to get damaged or lost, so even my simple needs still amount to a full set of surgical tools, skinning and butchering knives, and multiple combat knives. The three different sets of throwing knives, though, are strictly for pleasure. Ender also picked up a few things that caught his eye but was mostlycontent to sit and talk, like watching me browse for knives is fascinating.
With practiced efficiency, Theo has us packed up and moved to the range in no time. I’ve enjoyed our date so far, but I’ve been really excited about this part. At home, I didn’t have a private shooting range, so I didn’t go shooting often, but when I did, I always had fun. Like knife throwing, I find the intense focus and forcing myself to slow down and go through the movements relaxing. Practical benefits aside, I just really enjoy it.
Theo’s range is, naturally, sumptuous. Bright, cool lighting comes on as we enter the room, illuminating about twelve different bays, all cool whites and grays that make it feel like a luxury space station. We claim the third and fourth bays, and Theo starts setting up. Safety glasses and over-the-ear electronic hearing protection are distributed and donned. Ender walks over to a shelving unit near the door and returns with a handful of paper targets, about equally split between bullseyes and silhouettes. He holds them out for me to make my selection. I take a bullseye, clip it into the target retrieval system, and send it down range. Next to me, Ender does the same.
Theo is still loading magazines and sorting everything out in an empty bay, but when he glances up and realizes we’re ready, he pauses to bring us each our first weapons. We meet him in the middle as he reminds each of us of what we have. “I’ve started you off with one magazine each. My recommendation is to go through that and then, if you’re still interested in a gun, circle back around and take your time with it after you’ve tested everything else.” With that, he cuts us loose and resumes his task.
I step up to the counter in my bay and take a moment to familiarize myself with this particular gun, eject and reload the magazine, and check for a safety. When I’m ready, I chamber a round, lift the gun, and aim down the sights. I takemy time placing my shot, and then I squeeze the trigger. Lowering my arms, I look down range and check the target to see my shot landed within the first ring, but to the left of center. I aim again, make my adjustments, and fire. This time, I'm in the bullseye, but farther from dead center than I'd like.
Before I can set up my third shot, Ender lifts his gun and fires. He doesn't lower his weapon in between shots, but he does go slowly, adjusting through the sights after each one. He’s pushed up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing his forearms, and every time he pulls the trigger, the tendons in his hand and arm flex under the snake tattoo. Between the delicious sight of his body working and the adrenaline spike fueled by the familiar smell of gunpowder and hot brass, I’m starting to think my husband’s intentions weren’t strictly romantic. He looks like the predator I know and love like this, and it's enough to make me salivate.
I forget that I’m staring until Ender lowers his gun and turns toward me, smirking.Busted.
“How’re those working out for you?” Theo asks, watching us.Double busted.
My cheeks heat, and I sheepishly hand my gun back to him. “This one’s a pass,” I say.
Ender hands his gun over. “I’ll take that one. My wife seems rather fond of it.”
We work our way through the rest of them and finalize which ones we want. Theo stashes the rest to be cleaned and reshelved later, then sets out ammo for the three guns we’re purchasing. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he says. “When you’re done, just put them in the case I’ve left here for you and stick them back in your suite. You’re leaving Thursday?”
“Around noon,” Ender confirms.
Theo nods. “Great. Same plane?”
“Yeah. It’s at the private hangar in Reddington.”
