I angle my head to make the kiss deeper, trying to tell her without words that I will protect her with everything I’ve got for the rest of my life. It must be too much for her because she breaks away, twisting her face and then pushing lightly out of my arms. I let her go, and my hands dangle uselessly at my side.
“Sorry about that. Thanks for bringing everything over.” She gives me a fake smile and pats the boxes. “These are the mockups of our packaging supplies. We really can’t start selling anything until our shipping issues get worked out.”
“It’s not a problem, Violet. Why don’t I help you put things together?” I reach inside my pocket for my blade. She inhales sharply at the sight of it.
“Just cutting the packing tape,” I explain.
“Gosh, I know. It just caught me off guard. Most people use a razor blade or a letter opener. Actually I bought this pair of scissors off of the internet that have a little cutting blade on top.” She jerks open a desk drawer a little too hard, and the contents dump on the floor. “Oh crap.”
We both kneel down to scoop everything up and almost crack our noggins together. She’s nervous for some reason.
“What’s wrong, Violet?”
“Huh? Other than the fact I spilled everything? My God, how long has this pack of gum been in here? The stuff feels like a rock. And hand warmers? It’s not like I need those.” An empty laugh fills the air.
I cover her hand with mine. “Let me clean this up while you use your fancy scissors to open the boxes.”
“Good idea.” She pushes to her feet and lets me stuff the things back into the drawer. The gum should be tossed out, but hand warmers can be used later. There’s an assortment of pens, hair ties, a comb, two charging cords, an empty notebook, some screws, and six bullets. I lay the bullets in my palm and roll them along with my thumb. “You got something to put these in?” I show the copper heads to Violet.
She makes a face and points to the other drawer on the long thin table. “I read a safety manual that said you should put the gun and the bullets in separate compartments. Don’t worry; the desk drawer is locked. The key is underneath.”
“I don’t remember putting that there.” I’ve been over this house a couple of times to install security devices and not just cameras but sensors at every door and window along with pressure pads and glass breakage monitors.
“I know. I bought it over the internet along with the lock. It’s a magnetic one, and I installed it myself.” She pats herself on the shoulder. “I’m getting very handy with the drill.”
“How many more of these setups do you have around the house?”
“Just a few.”
“And in your pool house?”
She raises her chin. “I don’t like the tone of your voice. It sounds very judgmental. I would think you’d be happy that I have a gun to protect myself.”
I bite down on the back of my teeth and try to gather in my temper that threatens to gallop in like a hurricane. “Have you ever shot a gun? Put a bullet in a chamber? Pulled a trigger?”
“No. But these are point and shoot guns. All you have to do is put the thingie there into the gun and point it at someone. From close range, you can’t miss.”
I can’t tell if she believes these things or she’s just reciting the ad copy from the web page she bought them from. I grab the handle of the drawer and give it a good yank. The magnet gives way, and the gun tumbles out. It’s a 9 mm Glock, which is a point and shoot gun, but it requires a magazine, which she doesn’t have, and the sight looks mangled, as if someone dropped the gun. I hold it up and peer down the barrel. Sure enough, some of the metal of the barrel is slightly concave. “This is a dud, Violet. If you shot it, the bullet might not make it out of the chamber. See this?” I point to the depression. “It could’ve blown up in your face. You shouldn’t have these lying around if you’re not going to use them.”
“Why would I use them? I’m not a hunter. It’s just for protection, and they aren’t lying around. It was in a cabinet locked away.”
“I pulled the drawer open.”
“Not everyone is the Hulk, Sebastian.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Are you mad at me? For trying to protect myself?” she asks indignantly.
“No. Not mad. Just tired.” Tired of her being so scared she’s stockpiling weapons around the house. “If you wanted to learn how to shoot a gun, all you had to do was ask. That’s my bread and butter. I’ll set up a range in the back yard for you. There’s plenty of space here.”