Page 99 of Trust

“Damn right you did,” Cash says proudly.

“Chris is gonna lose it.”

For a second, I worry I said the wrong thing, but Cash only smiles, takes the helmet from me and stows it away.

“Go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

Before I rush toward the cabin, I spin back, throw my arms around his middle, and hug him.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice barely above the breeze. “For this. For trusting me.”

His hand presses against my back. “Anytime, honeybun.”

GUNS

Chris

Leaning over the coffee table, I work the slide back and forth, checking the fit before laying the barrel down. The door swings open behind me with a rush of cool air and Sara’s laughter. “I drove the quad,” she says all delighted and proud of herself.

I turn with a grin already forming. Every time she learns something new, she shines. Her cheeks are pink from the cold and adrenaline, her hair messy from the helmet, her eyes glowing. God, she’s perfect.

“Did you now?” I reply, matching her tone and move over to help with her coat.

“She did. Handled it like a pro. Barely screamed,” Cash says, kicking off his boots.

“I did not scream,” she glares.

“Okay, fine. Swore like a sailor.”

Sara narrows her eyes at him, but she’s beaming, and I can’t help it. As she passes, I pull her in for a quick hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead before she can slip away.

“Proud of you,” I say into her hair.

“You should be. It was insane,” she mumbles, wrapping her arms around me.

“Next time,” I murmur, “you’ll be flying helicopters.”

She snorts. “Let’s start with not flipping the quad.”

She’s gone up the stairs and back down again in seconds, but her smile dims. Her gaze locks onto the table she’s approaching. Two Glock 19s lie field-stripped beside their magazines and a small maintenance pouch.

Her eyes widen slightly. She looks at the weapons with the same curiosity she has for anything new. “What is all that?” she asks, cautiously curious.

“Show-and-tell,” Cash says, too flat to sound light.

Even empty, the guns carry a presence. I pick one up. Exactly what she needs to start with: a compact pistol, light enough to hold with one hand, not too wild when it kicks.

I glance over at her. “Thought you might be up for some more action. You ever shot a gun?”

She shakes her head.

“We’ll go over safety first. Then we’ll practice and show you how to hit what you’re aiming at.”

Her eyes spark. The idea of learning a new skill excites her. She steps closer, leaning in with that eager hunger of someone catching sight of a world they’ve never entered. Her shoulders tuck in a fraction as she touches the metal with care, the same reverence you’d give a borrowed instrument.

A flicker of uncertainty crosses her features, but she stays, fingers twitching. She glances from the weapon to me, then back again. I guide her hand so she can get a closer look.

While she studies its shape and weight, Cash’s words replay in my head. He really had been digging on his day out. Still nothing about a Board, but he checked every name on his list. Public footprints. Databases. Socials. Too easy these days. Not like I haven’t done the same. One name belongs to the type of man who leaves a trail. Goes home to a wife and kid. Cash talked about leverage, using them for intel. He said it like it was just math. Like it didn’t come with blood.