Page 56 of Vipers & Roses

He grunts. “You sure are in a bad mood, Rae. Maybe I’ll change my mind and uninvite you. Pizza tastes better without sour lemons.”

“Fine,” I sit at the table to reload my Glock. “I’m supposed to be somewhere else tonight.”

“Me too,” he grunts. “At home, having a date with my pizza.”

“I had a date with a man,” I admit to him, expecting an adverse reaction. Instead, he watches my fingers load the gun. “I named it Til, by the way. This fine Glock. I’m thrilled with it, actually.”

“Are you drunk because you shouldn’t be handling a gun under the influence?”

“You think I’m drunk?”

“No offense, but you changed lanes so fast just now that I’m a little giddy. So, you’re either drunk or, like I said, rolled out of bed wrong and landed on a porcupine. And you’re still pulling quills out of that sweet ass of yours.”

“Do you care that I’m dating someone else?”

“Not really.”

“That’s a lie because you asked me the other day if I was seeing someone.”

“Okay, maybe,” he corrects. “Now, hurry up and shoot that gun of yours.”

“Til,” I tell him.

“Whatever makes you happy.”

“I mean…the gun’s name is Til,” I repeat.

“I heard you the first time,” he answers, amused.

His phone beeps, and he takes it out of his jeans pocket, reads the message, and then immediately answers while I take my place on the mark, raise my Glock in both hands and squeeze. Not only am I starting to get used to this, but having this power in my hands is getting me horny. This time, I imagine, shooting those two men in the parking garage, especially the foul-breath walrus. Two bullets per body should do it.

Next time I use this gun, it’ll be for real.

26

“This is nice,” I tell Blake as I sit at the small round table in his apartment above the mechanics’ garage, a two-minute drive from the shooting club. His apartment is three times larger than mine, with a separate bedroom and bathroom down a short hall. “However, I notice you don’t have a balcony.”

“Don’t need one,” he states, taking the pizza out of the oven using a tea towel and placing it on a wooden board in the center of the table. “I’m too busy to sit around gazing at the view anyway.”

“Do you work in the garage downstairs?” I ask as he takes three cans of beer from the fridge, and I assume the third one is also for him.

“Yeah, when they need an extra pair of hands,” he answers. I suspect there is more to the story, but Blake is a charming bundle of secrets and is unlikely to tell me yet. “Built my truck.”

Blake drives an old white Dodge pickup that doesn’t look like it’s been modernized, so I’m not sure what they did to build it. After my shooting session with Til at the range, I followed him here, lured by homemade pizza and curiosity. Who would’ve thought shooting the living crap out of a target would make me ravenous.

“Two kinds of cheese, camembert, and mozzarella,” he proudly states, rolling the pizza cutter over the large, tantalizing round.

“I’m starving,” I mumble, reaching for a slice as a knock strikes the door.

“Now, I wonder who that could be,” he says, grabbing a can. I realize he was expecting this person, and my heart drops, and I realize that I won’t be spending alone time with Blake. On the other hand, I’m eager to meet someone from his personal life who might be able to fill some gaps.

Blake swings the door open enthusiastically, and my mouth drops open at who is on the other side. “What the fuck?” I hiss, almost choking on my pizza.

“Hello to you too,” Cormac says, walking in like he’s been here many times before and taking the beer from Blake’s hand.

“I want an explanation. Pronto,” I growl, tossing my slice down and glaring at the two men I have been seeing for the last couple of weeks. “Wait. Are you two secret lovers or something?”

“No,” Cormac answers, bending down to kiss my forehead, and I immediately recoil from his touch and give him a warning scowl.

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