Page 56 of A Lick and A Promise
I was ready for a quick escape when he asked, “You bringing Jacques over tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I answered immediately.
Me:
Big.
Idiot.
He smiled. “Great.”
Goddammit.
“Time now for you to take it easy,” I ordered.
His smile stayed in place. “Will do.”
“Later,” I said.
“Later, baby,” he replied.
Another endearment.
I hoofed it to the Prius.
As I started up my car, I realized I hadn’t asked what our talk was going to be about.
And as I was driving out of his complex, I told myself he seemed good. He was getting around. He had a lot of folks dropping by. I needed to stop doing this.
I told myself this.
But I still knew I’d be there in the morning, with Jacques, and I’d be there in the afternoon, to pick up Jacques.
I also knew Raye was right.
I needed to figure my shit out.
Because one thing I wasn’t being clueless about.
I knew I was in big trouble.
SEVEN
I’M ME
“This is some lame-ass shit,” Knox grumbled from behind me. “Dude’s shot off fifty-seven rounds…from a handgun, for fuck’s sake.”
I twisted my neck from where I was lying, tucked in front of him on his cozy, comfy, deep-seated couch.
“You counted the rounds?” I asked.
“There went five more,” he said, then continued with advice I hoped I never needed, because Angels carried Tasers not guns, and we always would, “You always count the rounds.”
Interesting.
And terrifying.
“And there isn’t a handgun in existence with a magazine that carries sixty-two rounds,” he finished.
