“And I’m guessing your best is more than most people’s best.” She squeezed his hand that was resting on the gear shift. “I think you’re an amazing guy, Micha, and I’m glad I got the chance to know you. Even if it is in such a trying situation.”
“Backatcha.” He twined his fingers in hers but didn’t say anything else.
She leaned back, her heart at peace despite her circumstances. She was sure that would change once they reached the gun shop, but for now she would savor his touch and the warm feelings it brought.
They made the last few turns in silence. The exact opposite of the firing guns that greeted them at the gun shop and range. She didn’t want to be in a place like this, but if Buck had purchased at least one of his weapons here—maybe the AK-47—they could learn something to help.
Inside the place, an aroma from fresh building supplies greeted them, and the fixtures looked new, too.
She stepped in. “Doesn’t look like the store’s been open long.”
Micha frowned. “Which means we could be out of luck, and Buck didn’t buy many, if any, of his weapons here.”
She looked up at him. “Do you mind if I take lead here? Maybe the guy won’t be as suspicious of me as he would of a guy who knows his weapons as well as you do.”
“I don’t think it much matters.” Micha’s shoulders drooped. “He’s already sized me up and made me for military or law enforcement and could clam up.”
“Still, I could try.”
“Sure.” He smiled. “Just don’t expect a miracle.”
She headed straight for the guy standing behind a display case. He had dark hair graying in a weird pattern around his head like below where a ball cap might’ve sat. Wrinkles creased the sides of his eyes, and his stomach hung over his belt. He had a gun at his side and several tattoos on his hands and arms.
Behind him, the back wall held a display of rifles. She quickly counted nine rows of five different guns and couldn’t believe they needed such an assortment. Glass-enclosed cases sat in front of it with handguns mounted upright in impressive displays.
The man planted wrinkly hands on the polished glass. “Help you?”
“Hi.” She smiled. “First let me say I don’t know a thing about guns and need to rely on your expertise.”
“No worries, little lady.” His shoulders lifted. “I’m Rob. I own this place, and I got enough knowledge for all three of us.” He fired a challenging look at Micha.
Micha tightened his hands. He obviously wanted to come back with a comment disputing Rob’s superiority to his military weapons knowledge, but held his tongue.
“So I have this friend I’m worried about.” She clutched her hands together to emphasize her concern, though Buck was far from a friend. “He’s kind of gone off the deep end into conspiracy theories and prepping for Armageddon.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Rob said, sounding sincere.
“I don’t want him to get in trouble for owning anything illegal, you know?”
“Sure, I get it.” Rob rested a hip against the counter.
“So when he showed me his cache, he had an AK 47 he was extremely proud of. I don’t know anything about them, but I heard you can’t own one in our state.”
Rob came upright, his eyes wide now. “Well, yes and no. Oregon would count a fully automatic version as a machine gun, and for the most part, it would be illegal to own.” He went on to explain the gun registry before May of 1986, just like Micha had reported to her.
“He had your store’s business card in his stash,” Ava said. “Could he have bought it here?”
“We’ve had a few for sale.” Rob pursed his lips. “I sold all of them except one. Tell me what this friend looks like.”
Ava described Buck the best she could.
“Nah, he’s not one of the guys I sold to, but could be the sale I didn’t handle.”
“Might you be willing to look his name up to see if he did get it here and if it’s legal? I would feel so much better about it.” She ended with a beaming smile she hoped might gain his compliance.
“To put your mind at ease, little lady, I’d be glad to.” He returned her smile. “What’s his name?”
“Buck. Corey Buck. I can give you his address if you need it.”
