“Nope.”
“He could stay with Waylon.”
“Ellis wants to be helpful even if he doesn’t know how. He nearly stabbed me with a knife yesterday just cutting potatoes. Then he acted like he’d severed an artery and vowed to never touch a knife again.”
“Tell him I’ll teach him how to get to the artery with ease so he’ll do a better job next time,” I say.
“Every evil word you speak to me is one gun that goes out the window while I drive,” Tavish growls.
I decide that silence is probably best and get into the car with my dogs, leaving the cleaners to finish up. They’re now scanning the yard for any spots of blood, and I trust that when they leave, there is no crime scene expert who could find a trace of what went on here.
Taking off with Tavish following me, I drive the most roundabout way to the safe house that I can think of. The nice thing is that Lucas put the house on a long road where you can see anyone else on it for a good distance, and the driveway is a dirt lane that one would turn onto to do field work.
After turning onto the dirt lane and following it about a hundred feet, I make a sharp turn into the trees where a house that is completely unnoticeable from the road appears among them.
I might hate Lucas with every fiber of my being, but the man does know how to fuck the best over. He’s smart, calculating, and knows exactly how to play everyone.
Maybe if I was better at that, I could keep the ones I love safe. But then wouldn’t I slowly become a monster myself?
The last thing I ever want is to become like Lucas.
When I reach the house, I drive straight into the garage, as does Tavish. After both doors are closed, I get out and let the dogs out. They’re excited to explore the place as the door to the house opens and Jackson and Waylon peek into the garage.
“Everything go alright?” Jackson asks.
“Perfectly normal,” I respond, which really isn’t even stretching the truth.
Jackson sighs… I swear that man can read my mind sometimes. “What happened?”
“The… masked man was waiting with our dogs,” I say as I pull out my phone and hand it to him so he can watch the security camera and see what happens for himself. Waylon nosily stares over his shoulder.
“This first guy gets shot,” I warn, so Jackson tips it away from Waylon during that part.
While they do that, I quickly unpack all of my guns, hoping he won’t notice. Tavish helps by stacking them in my arms until I struggle with the weight. Then he grins, pleased with himself while I debate whether I’d drop something if I kicked him. Realizing that I likely would, I decide I’ll kick him at a later date and time. Preferably when he least expects it.
I have almost all of the guns in the house before Jackson is done and looks up at me. “I don’t know what’s more concerning, that a man was trying to break into our house and this guy took him out, or that you wasted time in our house packing up all of your guns when there are people after us.”
“He considered packing up that fence too,” Tavish says. “I had to be the voice of reason.”
“Voice of irritation is more like it,” I mutter.
Jackson is staring at me while I try my best to avoid his eyes, but I can’t avoid his words when he says, “Is it? Do you really find it strange that Tavish was the voice of reason here?”
I simply smile at him.
He sighs and rubs his head. “Alright, now that we’re happy that all of your guns are safe, let’s get settled in for the night.”
“Tavish, you need to see my new cat,” Waylon says, dragging him off to do that as I follow Jackson inside.
Jackson eyes me, and even though his expression clearly says, “Why did you bring so many guns?” it really feels like, “You’re a sexy beast,” which is much more fitting. “Did you actually pack anything we can use? Like clothes?”
“Of course I did,” I reply, not wanting to admit that Tavish packed the “essentials.”
“Good. I thought for sure you’d forget all about that.”
“I would never,” I say, well aware that I never thought about it once in the midst of thinking about how many guns I needed to take with me.
We head downstairs where Waylon shows off his new cat to Tavish. I pop a leash on both of the dogs before bringing them over to meet the cat. The cat is not even afraid of the dogs, and Sarge couldn’t care less that he exists, but Cayenne is already in love. She’s play-bowing and rolling around and acting like a goof as she tries to reach him. Thankfully, the cat isn’t overwhelmed by her display of love. We keep them leashed for a little bit until it becomes obvious that the dogs won’t hurt the cat before releasing them.
