Page 63 of Booked for Murder

Oh. I frowned. “I did?”

“You did, yes. It was a part of the contract.”

I didn’t remember that. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Janette. I’m sure. I read over the documents. It was buried something like halfway through, allowing the Hampton family to handle any and all legal affairs on your behalf.”

It was like someone flipped a switch in my head, and I remembered that the for life contract came with a lot more than me just signing my life away.

They had a very lengthy responsibility for my wellbeing.

Huh. Maybe I was missing some things—or more than just some things. “I forgot.”

“That’s the repression. It’s a detail that would have suggested you should return to the Hampton family after the crash. As I have to get you back into shooting form, your mental health is my responsibility. And if you don’t qualify for the shooter spot, I’ll take the spot for you until you can qualify. You might have to work outside of the cell, but that might not be a bad thing. I think you’ll qualify, though.” Lenard popped open the case. “The gentleman here is Hugh. Hugh’s job is to calibrate your new friends to you. The process takes about an hour per firearm, and he likes it when his test subjects are napping, so we have a sedative for you to take.”

“Just give her the painkillers after she has lunch. She’ll be out for a solid eight hours.”

“Painkillers would be fine as long as she’s unconscious, although it’s better to use the sedative as well. We’ve already secured the doctor’s approval for it,” Hugh announced, stepping closer to the coffee table. “To calibrate the weapons, I will have to disrupt your abilities to make sure they’re working. Sedation makes certain there are no risks to myself or anyone else in the room, especially with an ability like yours. The sedative I use is fairly safe, and it typically lasts for three hours. I have four weapons to calibrate, but if you’re taking heavy-duty painkillers stacked with the lowest dose of sedative I can realistically give you, that should be fine. Painkillers make the concentration required to work magic appropriately difficult at best, and the low dose of sedative would make the probability you react virtually nil.”

“You knocked Bradley out for his gun?”

“Yes. He had four weapons calibrated, just like you will today. It’s better to do them all at once, and he wanted to give you a good selection. He made it clear you take gun safety seriously, so I’m giving you the most secure systems I have. They’re, frankly, ridiculously redundant.”

Lenard shrugged. “She saw an idiot kill himself at the range dicking off with a gun. No number of safeties will idiot-proof a gun, but it helps. Half the kids at the range couldn’t deal with their firearms for months after, but the little missy here? She turned her gun in and asked for one with a better safety. In her words, it was too easy for her to flip the safety where it was, and she only wanted to pull the trigger if she meant to kill someone. That’s the right way to go about it. I taught that kid how to use a gun safely. He treated the weapon like a toy, and he paid for that with his life. I sat the little missy down and went through her gun options and matched her with a gun with a safety system she was comfortable with. That’s a form of trauma, too, but it’s a form of trauma that keeps her and those around her safe, so I’ve left it be. You’ll like this system because nobody will be taking your gun and shooting someone else with it. But there’ll be no doubt that you pulled the trigger with this one.”

“Unless I’m unconscious when it happens.”

“And someone with Hampton’s brand of magic would be able to tell.”

“You can, Bradley?”

“Yes. It’s possible for me to tell if something like that happened.”

“That’s pretty cool.” I rolled my shoulders. “This is a lot of work to get this cell set up. I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Whoever is killing these politicians wants to keep their work a secret. I’m of the opinion it’s a form of terrorism. It could be a serial killer with a grudge, but everything I’ve been told leads me to believe it’s a concerted effort involving multiple people. The cops haven’t gotten anywhere. The FBI hasn’t, either.” Lenard pulled out a rather large firearm, and my brows rose at the grip, which was purple with a sprinkling of glitter. “It matches your glasses, and I was specifically asked to provide at least one gun that matched those new glasses of yours. Blame Hampton. He gets weird ideas about guns, and since he’s paying the bill, you get a glitter grip.”

“Isn’t that a Desert Eagle?”

“It’s a Desert Eagle. This is your home gun or when you’re open carrying. This lovely lady won’t fit under your clothes without being noticed, although she’ll do you justice if you carry her around in a big purse.” Lenard pointed at my bag. “I can’t help but notice you have a nice big purse you could carry your new lady in. With the number of safeties on her, there’s no risk of accidental discharge, especially if you install a proper holster for her in your purse.”

“I’m sure she’d love to come around with me in my purse.” She’d weigh my purse down, but if Lenard hinted I should carry a Desert Eagle around with me, I’d listen. “What else do you have for me?”

“A Beretta. I spent several hours last night modding this one for you so it wouldn’t offend your delicate sensibilities. It has the safety systems you like, and I installed a better sight on it. You will not question me about the third mode.”

“Third mode?”

“One of the mods will discharge all rounds in a hurry. You best be ready for the kick, else she’ll take her temper out on you, too.”

“You corrupted that poor Beretta to be a fully automatic?” Unable to keep the anger out of my voice, I pointed at him. “Fix it! Fix it now.”

“I already fixed it. It’s now automatic enabled, and I have the appropriate paperwork for you to be able to legally carry it assuming you qualify to be your cell’s shooter. Your qualifications allow you access to fully automatic firearms. Your past record gives you access to fully automatic firearms at the range. You do not get to keep the Beretta at home until you qualify, so she’ll be coming back with me and locked at the range until you qualify. Her name is Pride.”

Uh-oh. “You named the Desert Eagle Prejudice, didn’t you?” I accused.

“No, I named your Ruger Prejudice. That one is small enough to tuck into just about any pocket without anyone being the wiser she’s there. The Desert Eagle is Bitchageddon. I was feeling a little petty when I named her.”

“That’s because I successfully dropped off the radar, isn’t it?”