He shrugs off his suit jacket awkwardly in the driver’s seat, unclips and sheds his pancake holster, passes her the Model 13, plus the speedloader off his belt. ‘Check the load. Anytime someone hands you a gun, check the cylinder.’
She nods as if she knows what she’s doing, as if she remembers what a cylinder is. The revolver is small and heavy, like all handguns are heavy, and it has a wooden grip. She lays Travis’s jacket over her knees and holds the gun carefully, with the speedloader resting on the jacket. She is not comfortable with guns, and she’s nervous about holding this one.
Travis looks at her for two seconds, then reaches over and takes the gun off her. He opens the cylinder, tips the ammunition load into his hand, clicks the weapon shut, gives it back. ‘Hold it firmly. There’s the safety. Remember our firing range sessions – Weaver stance, point and aim, watch your breathing.’
Emma feels more comfortable holding the unloaded weapon.She leans back to give herself enough room to point it into the passenger footwell between her feet. Getting accustomed to the feel of a weapon in her hand again. She takes a deep breath. ‘Okay, give me the ammunition.’
He gives her the handful of bullets. Then he reaches across her once more, cracks open the glove compartment, and retrieves a box of ammunition and a large stainless-steel Colt Python with an accompanying gun belt. He has worn this gun around her before.
‘You got your dad’s gun back after St Elizabeths.’
‘Yep.’ He glances between her and the pale brick house. ‘You sure you want to carry? I don’t want you to shoot me by accident.’
‘I’m not going in there unarmed. I promise not to shoot you.’ Emma swallows hard, hoping she can keep that promise. She opens the cylinder of the Smith & Wesson. She needs to focus her mind. ‘When this is over … When this is over, are you going to Guanajuato to see your uncle?’
Travis nods as he cracks the box of ammunition and starts loading the big silver gun. ‘I think so. I think I’d like to see the horses, and just spend some time being quiet.’
‘Quiet is good.’ Emma has never practiced with a speedloader. She gives it back, puts her handful of bullets into the Smith & Wesson one at a time.
Travis clicks the six-shot cylinder back into the frame of the Colt. ‘You can come, if you want. My uncle has a big house. Lots of room. Lots of horses. They lean over the fence and whicker at you. It’s warm. You can go swimming in the river.’
Her breathing is ragged and she needs to calm it. ‘I’d like that.’
There’s a short pause.
‘I came here with you to show you,’ Travis blurts suddenly. ‘I want you to see that you can trust me. That I’m on your side. That I choose you. Emma, I would choose you over an FBI order every time.’
She glances at him, her bottom lip clenched hard between her teeth as she continues to fumble ordnance. Her fingers are shaking so much the metal taps together. She exhales to speak. ‘I know. I’ve always known. But don’t talk to me about that now. I’m having a hard enough time getting these bullets in.’
She can feel Travis radiating energy beside her. Finally, she manages to get the Smith & Wesson locked and loaded.
‘You’re doing great,’ Travis whispers. He looks up at the house. ‘Okay, time to get out.’
They exit from their respective doors, into the cool dusk of the silent street. Emma gives Travis his jacket back, and he slips it on. She is sweating in her clothes, but the perspiration chills on her skin immediately. Her knees are wobbling bad. She keeps the gun low, pointed at the road. When Travis joins her, they both look at the house.
‘How do we always end up in these situations?’ Emma feels the panic riding high in her chest.
‘We don’t have to go,’ he reminds her.
‘No, we really do.’
‘Come ’ere.’ Travis transfers the Colt to his left hand, gives her a side-on hug. ‘Breathe. It’s all right.’
‘It’s all right,’ she repeats, muffled against his shirt. She breathes deeply a couple times, inhaling his scent.
‘You okay?’
‘Travis—’ Before he moves away, Emma does something she’s been thinking about for a long time. She leans into him. Kisses his neck, where his skin smells hot and good. When she steps back, everything feels better. ‘Now I’m okay.’
Travis is looking at her with his mouth open. Hectic color in his cheeks.
‘You ready?’ Her lips are warm. Her hand, holding the gun away, feels more solid.
He blinks at her. Doesn’t seem capable of speaking. Transfers the Colt back to his right hand, closes his mouth and nods.
‘Okay,’ she says. ‘Let’s go.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
