Page 75 of Booked for Murder

“I don’t like that at all.”

“Your range time is going to be pretty miserable, especially as you’ll be disrupted for at least two weeks to give your lungs a chance to heal without your abilities impeding you.”

“I regret asking now.”

“I thought that might be the case.”

Bradley chuckled. “We moved all of your things from the Manhattan residence to here last night, so you can keep your magazine collection company. You have a lot of new issues to read. I also got Jezabella to help gather things from your apartment.”

“You can tell me more about my magazines,” I said. “That part doesn’t sound as bad.”

“We got a copy of the bill they are trying to pass. Meridian managed to snag it for us.”

“How?” I blurted.

“Sorcery,” Bradley muttered.

Sorcery or sex appeal, I bet. I shuddered at the thought of Meridian seducing a politician for a copy of the papers, thought about it, and decided while Meridian could be quite the firecracker, she had standards higher than randomly sleeping with a politician to get access to current legislation. “Is it public record?”

“Not yet.”

“Did she legally acquire the documentation?”

“Very probably not. I decided not to ask despite taking all five hundred pages of it to the photocopier so we could all admire the idiocy of our government. She returned the original copies, so I think they were only on loan. There are a lot of handwritten notes in the margins, too. The photocopier I used is a good one, so there wasn’t much quality loss, but we’re going to be spending a lot of time translating chicken scratch.”

Next time, I would not tempt fate. I would keep my mouth shut rather than invite trouble. “Neat handwriting should be a requirement for graduation.”

“I’ve seen your handwriting. You would be sent back for remedial lessons,” Bradley muttered.

“Personal notes should be exempt!”

“Those were personal notes in the margin.”

Crap. “All right. Hit me with it. What else am I not going to like?”

“The entirety of the bill we have to pick through with a fine-toothed comb. The only good news? You can get in a lot of reading between rounds at the firing range, as with your current lung capacity? You’ll unload your magazine and need to catch your breath.” Bradley reached between the seats and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “It’ll get better. Push as hard as you can for the first two weeks doing what you can, and you’ll notice a big difference. Once you’re in the boot, your condition will improve faster, but you’ll be pretty miserable for the first three or so weeks in the boot. That’s when you can hop up and down the stairs, but I’ve been told we should have a chair nearby because you’re going to make it up a flight and stop for a while.”

My ability liked me so much it did its best to both save me and kill me off. “Can we stop telling me things I won’t like now?”

“Sure, Janette.” Bradley chuckled and gave my shoulder another squeeze. “I promise things will get better soon.”

Eighteen

There are your new friends.

The Hamptons, as usual, had gone overboard during their home renovation project. The firing range lurking beneath their backyard also functioned as a bomb shelter and general bunker. A shooter’s paradise waited for me, and I could pick almost any weapon I wanted without having to leave the storage room. From tiny Rugers meant for easy concealment and oversized Desert Eagles exactly nobody needed but owned because of bragging rights, the gun world was my oyster.

I needed to stop drooling before someone noticed.

Lenard caught me staring, and he chuckled, going to a locked cabinet, opening it, and pulling out the silvery case he’d brought to my apartment and setting it on my lap. “There are your new friends. The case, like the guns, is calibrated to you, so you don’t need a combination code to open it. Anyone else wishing to access the weapons will need the code. One failed code entry will result in only you being able to unlock the case.”

“Every gun safe should have this.”

“Unless the catch malfunctions, in which case you’ll need some time and a blow torch to get into it.”

“That part is less than ideal, but okay. I can live with that.”

“How are you feeling?”