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Once we’re inside the building, cases of guns greet us, as does a brawny thirty-something man with tattoos. “Rick-fucking-Savage,” he greets. “Long time no see.”
“Too long, Kevin,” Rick says. “Too long.”
The two men share a heavy handshake and Kevin’s attention falls on me. “Welcome. You must be Candace.”
Surprised that he knows my name, I eye Rick. “Of course, he knows who you are. You’ve been here before. With me.”
My brows furrow and I scan the room. “Actually, yes. It’s familiar, but—”
“It wasn’t blue,” Kevin supplies. “And I didn’t have all this muscle or ink.”
A bosomy, fit redhead appears by Kevin’s side and links her arm with his. “I inspired the muscles, ink, and eye-popping color.” Her words are spoken with Texas flavor, her grin friendly like the offer of her hand. “I’m Lea. I’ve been around these parts a good nine years now.”
I shake her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
She waves at Rick. “Howdy, Savage.”
“Howdy, Lea.” He slides an arm around me. “Full disclosure. I went on a date with Lea before you and I met. We pretty much hated each other.”
Kevin laughs. “Which is why he introduced her to me. And the rest is history.”
This news doesn’t faze me. I’ve never questioned how fully committed to me Rick was or is now, which is why him leaving and failing to return shook me to the core. But that had nothing to do with other women. It was about demons and monsters of a variety that includes Tag and others, perhaps that I knew and I didn’t know I knew. Which has me thinking about my mother’s funeral, not a redhead with another man on her arm. “The gun’s burning a hole in my purse, Rick,” I say.
Lea’s eyes go wide. “Honey, there was nothing between Rick and me.”
I blink. “What? I know. I know that.”
Rick squeezes my arm. “You’re staring at Lea like you want to use the gun on her, baby.”
“Not you, Lea,” I say. “But someone. I want to shoot someone.”
Kevin clears his throat. “I think we better make sure she has good aim.” He eyes Rick. “Downstairs.”
Rick gives him a nod and then catches the fingers of one of my hands in his, leading me forward and through the display cases. “They’re good friends,” he says. “The kind you can call if you need help.”
I give him a side glance. “They’re more than they appear,” I assume.
“He has a nasty history, but she set him straight. That history with her by his side makes him an asset.” He motions us down the stairs. “Grab your phone and either let me put their numbers in for you, or you put them in. I just want you to have them as a backup. I’m always your number one call. Walker is still your number two, any member of Walker, and then Kevin and Lea.”
I reach into my jeans pocket and hand him my cell. We reach the bottom of the stairs and a sealed steel door, that is—surprise—turquoise blue. We halt there and he keys in Kevin and Lea’s numbers before handing me back my phone. “I don’t plan on leaving your side, but you never know when you might need back-up. For instance, if I’m busy killing five or ten guys, you dial for help.”
Five or ten guys.
There is no statement that he’s made that better defines how dirty he feels this is going to get.
Or perhaps how dirty it already is.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Candace
Rick opens the steel blue door and motions me inside. I slide my phone into my purse and enter what is not even close to the typical shooting range I’ve visited on the upper level, but rather what has to be an obstacle course with a rectangular table of weapons set in the front of the room.
“Time to learn how to protect yourself, baby,” Rick says, the steel door slamming with a force jolt, as he joins me. “My way,” he adds, sauntering toward the steel table, all long leg swagger with an undercurrent of sex and danger, stepping to the other side of the display. “Join me, Candy baby.” He picks up a pen.
Not pleased with the direction this has taken, I’m there, across from him in an instant. “Are you really showing me a pen right now?”
“Not your preferred weapon, I know,” he confirms correctly, “and it’s not easily a lethal weapon. What it is, is a weapon no one will think of as anything but your work tools. The obvious uses; take out an eye and slam it into the groin.”
“It’s going to break and that takes force I’ll have trouble finding if fighting off someone stronger,” I point out.
“Excellent points. Haha, points. It’s a pun.”
“I’d kill you if you weren’t so hot and you weren’t presently teaching me to kill other people,” I snap.
