Page 47 of Kylo
Theguns.
I had to touch the guns.
There was no way he was going to let me get gloves first. And I had no sleeves to pull down over my hands.
I was going to leave fingerprints.
Fingerprints on illegal guns.
If these guns ended up found after some sort of crime, the police would findmyprints on them.
My stomach wobbled as I tried to find a way to gather them without leaving a direct imprint on the shiny metal.
I pinched with my fingertips when I could, grabbing the attached material straps on the big guns that I’d only ever seen in action movies before.
I did one trip to the SUV, eyes peeled on the road, terrified that someone might pass by and see me openly handling weapons.
Yes, this was Florida. But still. I would find it odd to see someone carrying armfuls of guns in the dark of night. Maybe enough even to call the non-emergency police line.
I dumped two loads into one SUV until one of the men slammed the trunk behind me, making me jump.
The next SUV wasn’t as clean as the first.
I lucked out by finding several long store receipts. I tucked them into my pockets then used them to pick up the rest of the guns for the remaining trips.
As I passed, the men leered, laughed, said things about how Marco and the rest of them could punish me for not behaving.
The worst part?
Marco laughed.
My stomach lurched.
My mind, no longer sluggish, raced with ways to avoid an assault. I remembered one woman saying to act crazy. Though, I didn’t imagine that would stop this crew. Another said to be disgusting. Throw up, pee yourself. With the way the bile was rising up my throat, I was pretty sure I could manage that.
I could try to run.
Get in my car.
Lock myself in Traeger’s shed.
But how would that help?
They would know right where to find me.
They would be back in a month.
I was so lost in my horrible thoughts that I didn’t realize I’d moved the last of the guns until I went back into the truck to find all the boxes empty.
I wasn’t sure what to do then.
So I hopped down and gathered as many of my plants as I could at once, clutching them to my chest, breathing in the earthy scent of the dirt.
“That’s it,” I said to Marco, then turned and walked toward my greenhouse on shaky legs.
I wasn’t sure I breathed again until I heard the truck door slam, then car doors followed, and, finally, engines roared to life.
I turned, watching the head and tail lights.
