Page 46 of Cursed
“Of course not. I just like to make sure.”
“I didn’t know librarians had a lot of call for guns,” he drawled, looking her up and down.
“My father was a gun collector,” she answered. “He wanted me to know how to handle a weapon—how to defend myself.”
“Always a useful skill. So, what can I do you?” Malvaux asked, leaning back comfortably. When his gaze flicked to the window, she turned, but she saw nothing beyond the shop besides the street.
“I’m out in the country where anything could happen. I’d like a Glock model 23, if you have one,” she answered.
“So, you’re a little lady who wants the stopping power of a 40-caliber weapon, with reduced size for easy concealment.”
“Yes,” she answered, thinking that the gun part was right. The little lady part made her stomach curdle.
“If you’re recoil sensitive, you might want to try one of the Glock C models.”
“I think I can handle the 23,” she informed him primly.
“Okeydokey.” He unlocked the case in front of him, reached inside and brought out a semi-automatic that was much like the one she’d lost. When he set it on the counter, she picked it up and checked out the mechanism, then turned and sighted down the barrel.
“This will do.”
“You make up your mind fast.”
“Um hum.”
“I have to enter your application into the national data base—and make sure you don’t have a criminal record.”
“All right.”
He made a photocopy of her driver’s license, then handed it back before beginning to type slowly into a computer.
Finally, he turned back to her. “All set.”
She gestured toward the gun. Three refillable magazines come with it, right?”
“Correct. Holding ten rounds each.”
“Yes. And I’d like a box of bullets.”
Malvaux chuckled. “You sure you don’t want silver bullets?”
“Why?” she demanded.
“For that supernatural jaguar—out in the bayou—near Belle Vista.”
The way he said it sent a shiver slithering down her spine.
She kept her voice even as she said, “You’re saying the jaguar is supernatural?”
“I guess you’ll find out.”
“Why don’t you tell me more about the town legends?”
“Legends—well I don’t know about that.” His face had a closed expression as he put her purchases into a plastic bag, and she suspected he’d decided he was sorry he’d brought up the subject.
As she exited the store, she felt his eyes boring into her back.
When she reached her car, she stopped short and muttered a very unlibrarianly curse.
