Page 12 of Black Waters

“For the record, neither do I.”

Once it was my turn to rest, and I had fallen asleep, I woke to Crash’s whisper. “Link.” I jerked up, already in protect mode, but heard, “Shh, stay down.” Crash was on his stomach with a gun in his hand. I quickly rolled to my stomach, pulled out my gun, and aimed sloppily into the dark.

Unexpectedly, Crash laughed quietly. “False alarm, and that’s a good thing. Have you ever held a gun before?”

Still on our stomachs, facing the lake, and now smelling like the freshly cut grass I’d rolled in, I shrugged. “Uh, not really. My mom’s not a fan.”

“Damn. Well, let’s work on that before you get one or both of us killed.”

I grimaced at the gun in my hand, thinking I had watched enough movies to handle my own, but then I saw how expertly Crash handled his and knew a couple suggestions couldn’t hurt.

Crash seemed to enjoy my humiliation in lacking weapon knowledge. “First lesson, Mr. Equalizer, your safety is on. That may prevent you from being the backup she needs.”

“Hey!” I whispered loudly. “You’re my backup. I’m the one who started this crusade.”

“Yeah? Ever been shot?”

Thinking that was a stupid question, I laughed. “Of course not.” When Crash didn’t laugh I went quiet. “Have you?”

“No, because I shot first. Understand?”

After a moment of contemplation, I said, “Valid point. How do I work this gun?”

“I think you should know what it is you’re holding.” He holstered his gun then took mine. “Your dad’s no chump. Nice piece. This is a Desert Eagle—my personal favorite in Resident Evil.”

“Wait. Resident Evil?”

“Yeah, the video game.”

No, I couldn’t stop my annoyed eye roll. “Not a gamer. Not Whit’s thing.”

“Noted.” He gazed back at the gun but couldn’t seem to stop himself. “Not even Grand Theft Auto?”

“Focus.”

“Okay, what you have here is a semiautomatic handgun. A self-loading pistol.” He looked inside the gun. “Wait. Your magazine is empty?”

“My what?”

Crash looked at me as if I was not exactly the perfect definition of the male gender. “Your gun is not even loaded?”

“Oh, yeah, that.” I sheepishly pulled bullets out of my pocket and handed them over.

Now Crash is the one rolling his eyes. “Unbelievable.” He loaded the gun, explaining every action so I could reload on my own. He then explained some basics so I could be of more use, as he so judgingly put it.

The next day, in my heated robe—courtesy of Matilda—I waited for Whit on my back porch. She appeared per our normal routine. Whitney Summers had no idea she was running right past a hidden, smiling Crash, who seemed entranced by her existence alone. He watched her head down the dock and straight for me. He gave me a salute and ducked behind the tree, disappearing.

Damn ninja.

I got Whitney to school with no incidents. No shady-looking characters lurked in the school hallways, which was a good thing since I had to leave my now-loaded gun in my car. Whit never noticed me sticking it in my glove compartment. She stared out the window, lost in her thoughts.

That night, she and I had dinner together at her house. Maria had made tacos for Whit and me to warm up. I knew Whit hated the fact that Maria was, well, lacking a green card, but damn that woman could cook! I was licking taco juice that was dripping from my hand when Whit said, “Link, if I had two mil in my bank account, I’d be gone.”

“And go where, baby? Why would you want to leave this god-awful paradise?” I pointed. “You gonna stare at the taco all night? Or hand it over?”

She pushed her plate to me. “All over the world, Link. I want to go and have experiences other than the ones my folks want me to have, or force me to have. I feel I need to know what else is out there.”

Her words really stuck with me as I swam home afterward, to fake going to sleep in my own bed. I ate so much I wasn’t sure how I didn’t sink straight to the bottom.