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“A man is never too young to learn how to handle a gun, Evie. I was younger than he is now when I learned.”
My mother shook her head. “Whatever you say. Lunch will be ready in a half hour, so don’t get too involved.” She went back inside.
My father had set up some old soda cans on a big stump several yards ahead. Was he really going to let me shoot?
“You’re little yet, son, and you’re going to get a lot of kickback.”
“I can do it, Dad. I wish Joe were here.”
“We’ll bring Joe along next time. This time it’s just a father-son thing, okay?”
I smiled again. A father-son thing.
I had the best dad in the world. The very best.
I jerked as I steered the Mustang back onto the road. I wasn’t prone to daydreaming while I was driving. It was well into the evening, and the country roads into Snow Creek were pretty deserted. Good thing. I’d veered across into the opposite lane.
I had the best dad in the world.
Boy, had I been deluded.
I’d first held a pistol when I was seven years old. Pretty damned young. But he’d taught me gun safety, and by the time we were nine, both Joe and I were crack shots.
We were good at it. Damned good at it. Even now my Smith & Wesson was strapped to my ankle. I’d never shot at another person. Never had to.
But I would if life necessitated it.
I would to defend myself or someone I loved.
Absolutely.
Marjorie was at the hotel bar with Colin Morse, if Ted was to be believed. Colin Morse was hardly a threat. Still, I’d come prepared.
What was she doing meeting Colin Morse this late on a weeknight in town? I was pissed off just thinking about it. Colin had already met with her and Jade. Why the hell couldn’t he stay away from us?
A half hour later, I’d parked the car in a loading zone and stalked into the hotel bar.
There she was, sitting with him.
Then she looked up.
Straight at me.
I stalked toward her. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” I demanded.
“I haven’t heard my phone,” she said. “Who do you think—”
I grabbed her arm and pulled her out of her chair.
“Bryce, what—”
“Come with me.” I walked quickly to the front desk. “Give me a room. Now.”
“Hello, Bryce,” the night manager said. “What can—”
“Whatever you have. Now.”
He arched his brow.
