Page 38 of Property of Rattler

“What’s so fuckin’ funny?” The animals were cute, as long as you weren’t close to them. But comedic? Not to me.

In between giggles, she enlightens me. “If I’d left you there, you could have been pig food.”

My mouth drops open. “Thanks for that visual,” I drawl.

Her mirth fading, for a second, she looks guilty. “I’ll go search the freezer for more peas.” A corner of her mouth turns up. “Seeing as we’re not going to be eating them.”

“Can you check my duffle? I think Genie packed a first aid kit in there. Maybe there’s ibuprofen?”

She brings me peas, then explores the duffle, coming up with the anti-inflammatories. After waiting until I’ve swallowed the tablets, she reveals something she’s hitherto concealed—a packet of weed.

“Want to share a blunt?”

Well, fuck me. I nod, in part to challenge her. Then watch as she reveals she’s also found the papers she needs, and proceeds to roll an impressive joint, flicks a lighter to the end, takes a deep breath in, then, with smoke slowly exiting her mouth in swirls, passes it to me.

Genie only has the good stuff. This packs quite a wallop. Maybe, after this morning, it’s what we both need. As a feeling of mellowness sweeps over me, I find myself uncharacteristically saying in a soft tone, “Thank you for my rescue and for looking after me.”

She looks at me sharply. “What else was I to do, Rat? Leave you there?” Her head moves left, then right, then back to centre again. “As for doctoring you as best I can, you’re all that stands between me and Malachi if he finds out where I am. I need you able to walk if you’re going to protect me.”

Well, shit. That puts me in my place. And she’s right. Really, I should be calling Bullseye, explaining I’m out of action, and asking him for reinforcements. But fuck that. I’m not about to become the joke of the club. It’s only our first full day here, far too soon for me to give up.

Something about the way she’s addressed me niggles. “Don’t call me Rat,” I snarl. Fuck knows why I find it upsetting. The brothers call me that all the time. But out of her mouth? I know she’s just using it as the shortened form of my road name, but coming from her, it doesn’t seem right. “Call me Flynn.”

Her brows rise.

I don’t explain my reasoning. I can’t understand the sudden impulse myself. Flynn Ellington was someone I’d long left in my past.

Flynn, she mouths, trying it out.

Fuck this and fuck the reaction I have to hearing my name on her lips for the first time. Part horror, part resignation, and part something I don’t want to think about cause me to make an abrupt change of subject. “You ever fire a gun?”

She rears back, startled by my question. “Er, no?”

“If your brother comes calling, it would be best if you could defend yourself.”Especially if I remain out of action, I add to myself. Pulling my gun out of my shoulder holster, I tell her, “I can’t teach you to shoot in here, but when I’m mobile, you can get in some target practise. For now, I’ll just show you the basics.”

She backs away, hands held high. “I don’t want to fire a gun.”

“Ames.” I gentle my voice. “Right now, I’m laid up. It’s brought home to me that either due to this, or if something else we can’t predict happens, I might not be able to protect you. I want you to learn how to handle a weapon. Not because I think you’ll have need to, but just in case.”

Her brow furrows as she considers my answer. Then, slowly, she nods. At her capitulation, I send her back to my duffle, so she can take a weapon for herself.

At the back of my mind, I’m second-guessing whether this is the best idea. I’m named Rattler for a reason. While we’ve reached a kind of truce for now, I’m bound to rattle her cage atsome point, or even on the regular. Is it really a good move to ensure she’s armed?

But I’d look pretty damn stupid if I changed my mind. So, I start to walk her through the basics. “Never point it at anyone if you’re not prepared to take the shot.” I then demonstrate how to load the magazine, holding the gun down at my side, both arms close to my body. “Got it?”

Her head does this strange motion that seems to combine a nod and a shake at the same time. Removing the magazine, I pass the weapon to her. She regards it cautiously but finally takes it. Then she tries to copy the action I’ve just shown her. She needs a couple of pointers, but soon she gets the hang of it and is gaining in confidence by the third time.

“Unload it,” I instruct. When she does, I take up the lesson again. “A Glock has little recoil, so it’s great for beginners.” Her teeth worry her lip as she concentrates, hanging onto my every word. “There’s no separate safety. It’s all handled by the trigger. As you pull it, there’s a bar that slides down the safety ramp, which allows the firing pin to be released.” I illustrate what I mean. Then I proceed to dry fire it. Even the small click makes her jump. “Get a feel for it,” I suggest.

This time she takes it from me more gingerly. “Are you sure it’s not loaded?”

I point to the magazine she still holds in her hand. Shaking her head, she laughs at herself, then cocks her finger around the trigger and starts to pull. I can see her noting the initial resistance. She glances up, and I nod. She pulls harder, frowns as she realises she needs to apply more pressure, then continues and is rewarded with a click.

“If you fired a bullet, there’d be some recoil. You have to be prepared for that.” I think we’ve covered all she needs to know for now. Hopefully she won’t have to use it in anger until I’ve been able to take her out back and let her practice. As I’m notexpecting a visit from Stone tonight, I think it’s best to rest my ankle rather than risk putting more strain on it. Nevertheless, I want her to be prepared. “Put the magazine back in and then leave it somewhere where you can get to it easily. Maybe, when you’re down here, put it in the kitchen. When you go to bed, take it upstairs.”

She bites her lip so hard the pink turns white. “Is it safe to keep it loaded?” She’s almost reverent as she asks.

“Yeah, it’s safe. It’s a Glock, so even if you drop it, it won’t go off. It won’t fire unless you pull the trigger.”