Reckoning and Ruin by Tina Whittle Read Free Book Online Page A

calm, almost dead-eyed. I examined her gun, a cheap and badly maintained .22 barely bigger than the palm of my hand. It was a classic junk gun, not very powerful or accurate, but quick and dirty and disposable provided it didn’t blow up in your hand.
    I popped the mag, checked the chamber, then stuck everything in the gun safe under the counter. “What are you doing with a firearm? They’ll violate you for that.”
    Her eyes flashed. “You gonna call my parole officer?”
    â€œDepends on what you say during the next five minutes.”
    She stood at my counter, scanning the room for exits and cover and security cameras. I’d watched Trey do the exact same thing every time he entered an unfamiliar space.
    â€œIt’s not mine, it’s John’s,” she said. “I found it in the glove compartment.”
    â€œJohn hates guns.”
    â€œI guess he changed his mind.”
    â€œWhy?”
    She didn’t answer. In the fluorescents, I could see her more clearly. Jeans, dirty at the knees. Dollar store flip-flops. She wore no make-up, and was thinner than I remembered, skinny now instead of willowy. Her clothes hung on her, and her eyes were red.
    â€œI’ll tell you what I know,” she said. “But first you have to turn off the interior cameras. There, and there. Audio and video both.”
    I switched off the two corner cameras while she watched. I didn’t look at the deer head mounted behind me. It was fake, but inside its hollow skull was a state-of-the-art covert surveillance system hooked up not only to the screen on the counter, but to a wireless feed. All Trey had to do was tap in the access code at his end, and he could see and hear everything happening in the front room.
    We’d had long talks, he and I, about my need for space and privacy. This had been our compromise, that he could access the shop feed whenever he wanted, as long as I knew he was watching. I accomplished this by installing red lights behind the deer’s glass eyes that came on whenever he logged in.
    I caught a glimpse of the deer head in my peripheral vision. Its eyes glowed demonically.
    â€œThere,” I said. “Happy now?”
    She took a seat at my counter, eyeing the glass cabinets filled with matte black handguns and CSA replica daggers. I sat opposite her, trying to keep every wit I had about me. I’d thought she was out of my life, but now here she was at my gun shop, just like John had been six months ago, and just as desperate.
    â€œYou gonna play his message or not?” she said.
    I pressed the button on my uncle’s ancient answering machine. The first two calls were Kenny, but then John’s smoke-cured Alabama drawl drizzled through the line.
    â€œHey Tai, don’t hang up. Long time no see, I know, but something’s going on down here and I need to talk to you, soon as possible. Call me back.”
    He recited his number. The next call was an hour later, and this time he was more agitated, nervous, tension flaying his voice. “I’m serious, Tai, I need to talk to you. I think there’s trouble, big trouble, and it’s probably headed your way too, so call me.”
    I turned back to face Hope. “What trouble is he talking about?”
    Her eyes skittered to the side. “Somebody’s been following me. White pick-up with a camper top. No plates. It started a week ago, right after I got out—showing up at my PO’s office, at the trailer, taking off the second I caught them looking. It happened again on Wednesday, and John lost his temper. Said he was gonna take care of it.”
    â€œWhich meant?”
    â€œHe wouldn’t say. Said the less I knew, the better, me being on parole and all.”
    Outside the shop, a car prowled down the street, and her head jerked in that direction. She was nervous to the point of paranoia, her eyes darting and quick, her skin practically crawling.
    â€œStart at the