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I examined the remaining guns with a frown. “But better not to pick anything that’s got too much of a kick. You’ve got to brace your whole body against that.”
“I’ll be fine,” Quentin started to say.
I aimed a narrow look at him. “We’re not making the injury worse.”
Dolores, who’d been sitting patiently through our conversation, cleared her throat. “If I could make a suggestion… This model of Beretta has a good balance of power and subtlety.”
Rafael took the pistol she’d indicated and looked it over, then passed it to me so I could check it out before Quentin finally got his hands on it.
He aimed it at the wall and then the window without putting his finger on the trigger. A smile crossed his lips. “I could get used to this.”
“It feels all right?” I confirmed.
“Oh, yeah. I might not have fired a gun before, but I’m not squeamish about it. Just train me up.”
The corner of Rafael’s mouth ticked upward. “That’s exactly what I’ve got on the schedule for tomorrow. I’m hauling the three of you out to a shooting range so you can get comfortable with firing those things.”
After he’d handed over the cash for the three guns, Dolores cleared the others from the table and then opened her second case to reveal an assortment of knives. “Don’t forget about these beauties. In close combat, a blade will often do you better than a bullet.”
Niko immediately gravitated to a double-edged tactical knife. Just his initial swipe of it through the air made me think anyone stupid enough to try to take him on while he was holding that thing would quickly regret it.
Jasper went bigger, hefting a serrated hunting knife. He pricked his finger on the deadly tip and hissed before blotting beading blood from the scratch on his shirt. “Christ. This thing’s pretty damn sharp.”
“Of course it is. Dolores doesn’t sell dull blades, young man.” The old woman gave him a wink that looked suspiciously flirty.
I glanced over at Quentin, who was still eyeing the options. “Anything calling to you?”
“Maybe…” He turned a switchblade over in his hand, testing how responsive the blade was to the button. It snicked in and out. “I’ve always had a thing for these. You think it’d be a good choice?”
“Sure,” Rafael said with a trace of amusement. “And it saves you worrying about chopping your own balls off while you’re carrying it around.”
Quentin guffawed. “Let’s go with this one, then.”
When Rafael had paid for those too, Dolores got up, beaming in her unnervingly grandmother-like way. “You’re always a sweetheart, Rafael. And lately, my best customer. You send out a word if you ever need another house call.”
“Will do.”
As I deadbolted the door behind her, Rafael was already leaning forward to start instructing the other guys. “We’ll deal with gunmanship tomorrow at the range, but I can go over the basics of knife combat right now. You might not get a whole lot of time to react, so you want to know the best places to strike to disable someone quickly and how to avoid a block.”
He beckoned me over. “Lou, I’m going to need you to stand in for me here, since I can’t play target very easily.”
I wiggled my eyebrows. “Ooh, knife play. When did I get so lucky?”
Rafael just shook his head at me.
I did take the practice seriously once we got down to it—and the solemn expressions that had come over the skater men’s faces might have been funny if I hadn’t known their lives could be quite literally on the line. Rafael talked us through several scenarios, directing our positions and the tentative jabs and cuts the guys acted out, never actually doing more than grazing my clothes.
None of his three pupils made so much as a murmur of complaint. While I stepped back so that Rafael could demonstrate a grip and a twist with his good hand, my gaze traveled over all of my men, and a strange mix of trepidation and affection tangled in my chest.
I still didn’t like seeing these three acting more like gang stooges than athletes… but there wasn’t anything I could do about that. And when I let myself admit it, the fact that they were so committed to holding their own in the mess I’d dragged them into was something incredible.
I’d never have imagined they’d be devoted enough to get their hands this dirty for me.
A buzzing from my pocket broke through my thoughts. My burner phone.
The men looked up as I pulled the phone out and checked the screen. “It’s Beckett,” I told them with a leap of my pulse, and tapped through to see what the acting Storm had to say.
Would it be possible for us to meet in person in the next couple of days? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you that I’d rather there wasn’t any kind of concrete record of.
