“Of course,” he agreed, smiling.
Caymen slipped me into the seat and let me scoot over to make room for him, then reached for me and pulled my legs over his.
“You okay?”
“I’ve had better nights.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, sighing. “Never been that worried in my entire fucking life.”
“Enough to go find my dad when he didn’t even know about you yet.”
“He shot his gun off in the air when he saw me.”
“It’s his way of saying hello.”
“I like him. We should have dinner when you’re all healed up. Do it right.”
“Yeah?” I asked, that swelling feeling in my chest starting up again.
“Yeah. But not at his place. That rope bridge is a fucking nightmare.”
“I know. It gets easier over time, but I won’t be moving across it in my boot. Oh, my boot…”
“Pretty sure Daniyal brought the boat back to shore. I can send someone over to pick it up.”
“Oh, good. Anything else I need to know about?”
“We found the guns.”
“What? How?” I asked, straightening.
With everything going on, it was probably not super healthy that I was able to think past the events of the night and focus on work, but, well, that’s just who I was.
“Arty found the camper. In the suburbs. We went over there, still thinking this might have been linked to them.”
“And?”
“And they were all high as fuck in the living room. The guns were still in the camper in the back.”
“They didn’t sell them?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Frog God.”
“I’m sorry… what?”
“Frog God told them that guns were bad, so they stole them back.”
A sound that was half sigh, half laugh escaped me.
“They’re too much.”
“Yeah. Zayn took the guns. The job, on our end, is done now. So that’s one thing off all our plates.”
“Which means we both get to take some time off to relax.”
