Page 106 of Ugly Truths
I blink. “What?”
His hand falls from my face, but he doesn’t look away. “A concealed carry permit. Do you have one?”
My heart kicks against my ribs, hard.
“No,” I say too quickly. “I don’t.”
It was always a passing thought on the job, usually right after something reminded me just how vulnerable I really was. I was never in one place long enough to make it happen, and even if I had been, Peter would’ve seen it as a threat and the consequences for that…
Silas shifts, fingers curling around the latch for the center console and lifting the lid. For a second, my brain catalogs the usual contents. Sanitizer wipes, napkins, several pens, a bottle of handlotion, but then I see it. It blends into the black interior, mounted cleanly to the inside wall closest to him with a lock and biometric scanner.
A handgun.
Suddenly, the air in the cab feels thinner.
“Do you always have that with you?” I ask a little breathlessly.
“When I can,” he says. “It doesn’t exactly send the right message if someone sees me concealed carrying. That’s why I have the team.” He shrugs, like that should be the end of it. Then he adds, quieter, “Still, I’d rather be prepared. Especially when I’m alone.”
My gaze drifts from the gun back up to his face. He’s already watching me.
After a moment, he closes the console. Slowly, tentatively, he reaches for my forearm. His fingers wrap around it, thumb brushing back and forth.
“I want you to learn how to shoot,” he admits.
Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, what we just learned, the violence I witnessed, or my nerves getting the better of me—maybe all four—but a laugh bubbles up so hard that it burns the sides of my throat.
There’s no way I just heard him correctly.
One corner of his mouth lifts, just barely, though the seriousness never leaves his eyes. Then, the hold on my arm tightens. I suck in a sharp breath as he pulls me halfway over the center console. His breath is warm against my face.
The tension in his body coils around both of us. “I’m worried,” he says, voice fraying around the edges. “About what happens next.”
Our noses brush as he ducks his head. “What we just learned…” His jaw tenses. “It changes nothing and everything. We’re still going to find him.”
Silas’s fingers move to my wrist, cradling it, thumb pressing lightly over the veins.
“But I’m more worried about what he’s going to do when he finds out aboutyou.” He swallows hard. “I don’t want you to ever feel helpless.”
I shake my head. “I don’t. Not with you, notwhen—”
“There are going to be times I’m not there.” Silas cuts me off, voice hardening. “And if something happens to you… If you’re not safe—” He leans in the final inch, forehead touching mine.
My lungs constrict painfully as he pulls back enough to lock eyes with me.
His voice stays steady, low. “I’m going to show you where all the gun safes are hidden in the house,” he says, picking up a strand of my hair and running it between the pads of his fingers. “And add your prints to the scanners.”
I don’t look away.
“I’ll teach you how to handle a gun properly. How to shoot. How to clean it. Everything.” He pauses, just long enough for the weight of it to settle between us. “If you ever decide to get a permit to carry, I’ll help with that, too.” Then, softer, he asks, “Will you do that for me? Please?”
He tenses. I feel it in the hand still resting against my wrist, in the breath he doesn’t take.
The wordnosits at the edge of my tongue, but it doesn’t fully surface.
We don’t know what Peter’s going to do. Once he finds out I’m alive and here, he won’t stop. He’ll burn the whole place down if that’s what it costs, including everyone and everything I care about. And likefucking hellam I going to let that happen.
The lump in my throat feels impossible to swallow. “Okay.”
