Page 40 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

“I have range,” I whispered, feeling weirdly proud of it. “I can throw them.”

“And kill someone with botulism?” he asked, incredulous.

I lifted my chin. “And don’t forget the raccoons. I’ve got backup.”

That shut him up for a second. “Have you lost your damn mind?” he finally asked.

“No,” I shot back. “I think I've finally found it.”

But before he could either argue or drag me bodily inside, movement flickered through the trees. Webb's reaction was instant—gun up, aimed, and deadly. My heart jerked into my throat as a figure stepped into the clearing, hands raised in peace, and I exhaled in relief.

It was Eddie. He had a coil of fishing wire in one hand, one eyebrow raised like it was trying to take off from his face, and a look that screamedyou idiots are going to be the death of me.

“Easy,” he snickered. “Don’t shoot the guy on your side.”

Webb lowered the gun with a curse and shoved it back into his waistband. “Jesus, a little more warning next time.”

“I thought the flare was warning enough,” Eddie muttered sarcastically, scanning the clearing like he expected something to goboom. “That was me. My boot caught the outer perimeter line, and I tripped it by accident.”

I let out a breath and leaned back against the nearest tree, the adrenaline still buzzing through me.

Eddie’s gaze moved to the crate of dented cans and the firepit, then to me—clearly clocking the fact that I was seconds from raccoon deployment.

Then he looked at Webb. “Is that seriously the best trap she’s got? Because if that’s all she’s working with, she’s screwed.”

“Gabby’s got more,” Webb muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “I’ve got the good ones set farther past the ridge. That flare was just a warning line.”

Eddie didn’t look convinced.

Webb jerked a thumb toward me. “This was all I was willing to let her handle. I didn’t want her getting caught in anything sharp or swinging.”

He glanced at me with something between fondness and defeat. “She’s got salmonella in a can and an army of raccoons.”

“Don’t forget the wieners,” I pointed out, narrowing my eyes and already mentally aiming one at someone’s head.

Eddie gave us both a long, baffled look, as if we were the punchline to a survivalist joke he didn’t want to hear the setup to.

“You know what,” he shrugged. “I’m not even going to ask.”

He still squinted at me like he was trying to figure out what kind of creature I was, though. I held his gaze, my arms still crossed, because I wasn’t moving. Not while Webb was out here. Not while any of us were still in danger.

“If I dare ask,” Eddie said to Webb, “can she at least shoot in the general direction of someone trying to kill her?”

Webb sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, she can shoot. She’s not perfect,” he added, giving me a sideways glance, “but she can keep a threat busy.”

Eddie winced like it physically hurt him. “Then she should be carrying.Allthe time.”

“No,” Webb snapped immediately, head shaking. “We’re not turning the cabin into a full-time live-fire zone. She doesn’t even always know where the muzzle is pointed.”

“Once,” I muttered.

“Twice,” he countered.

“That’s not entirely fair,” I called out cheerfully as I pushed through the front door.

“Idoknow which end’s the dangerous one!”

Behind me, I heard Webb’s voice echo after me. “That’s not comforting!”

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