Page 4 of Dirty (Chicago Underground 5)
I was joking, but this floor unnerved me. While downstairs had felt happy, up here the air vibrated with expectation and something else I didn’t recognize. Over the years, I had learned to trust my gut feeling more than what I could see. Right now, it didn’t feel like danger, just anticipation of it. Like fear.
She unlocked a door. “I’m giving you what you came for.”
“And what’s that?” My breath held while she considered me.
“What do you most want?”
To be safe. “To be free.”
“You want to feel like you’re in control again. I understand. This isn’t a group therapy session where I tell you everything will be okay. That wouldn’t work for you anyway. This is better.”
Curious now, I stepped inside. She shut the door behind me, and my eyes adjusted. I blinked. Equipment and wires nestled among—yes, those were guns. Two men worked laptops at the foldout tables. The guy in the far corner looked up blearily, then turned back to his screen.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the sleek metal. “I thought you said there wasn’t any violence here.”
“There isn’t, because we have these. All our security works to keep us safe.”
“There’s irony here, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
She hefted a gun with a chilling nonchalance. “Are you telling me you’ve never held a gun?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m telling you. I have gotten shot before, and I’m not really looking to repeat the experience.”
“Good, because I’m not planning on shooting you. You need to know how to defend yourself.”
“I use my feminine wiles for that.”
“And yet you’re in hiding.” She raised her eyebrow. “How’s that working out?”
Ouch.
“As long as you’re running, you’re prey. Ta
ke a stand; see how it feels. You may still get hurt, but isn’t that happening anyway? This way you’re in control. This way you have a chance.”
I let my expression convey my doubt.
She shrugged. “So don’t. You came here for my advice, and this is it. You want to win a fight without getting your hands dirty. Go ahead and try.”
When she put it that way, it sounded silly. Cowardly too. “Okay,” I said. “What exactly would this entail? Do I need to buy chaps? My ass looks great in leather, but it’s a little restrictive, don’t you think?”
“It’s not a costume, Shelly. It’s a gun.”
And yeah, she was holding one out. As if I was supposed to take it.
I stared at it like it might magically float in the air, turn, and shoot me. I could see it in my mind’s eye. Absently, my hand went to my shoulder, where the old wound seemed to pulse.
“It won’t hurt you,” she said. “They will, though, if you don’t defend yourself.”
My breath stuttered out of me. I gingerly took it from her. It was lighter than I expected. So sleek and shiny.
“Point it down,” she said sharply. “Finger off the trigger.”
I almost dropped it. “Is it loaded?”
“No.” She softened a fraction. “That’s not the point. You need to be careful. As careful as they are, or they’ll win. They’ll beat you.”
Her words rang in my ear like a premonition. “I don’t know what I’m doing with this.”
