Dirty Deals by Nicole James Page 0,9

want her to be safe,” he snaps.

I can’t help giving him hell. Butterfly’s kept him on his toes for months. The boy is head-over-heels lovesick. I can’t help feeling a little jealous.

The clerk moves off to order the conversion kit, and another clerk waits on someone farther down the long glass case that extends about twenty feet across the back wall of the store.

“What can I help you with, ma’am?”

I’m leaning on the glass with an elbow, facing Reno, my back to them, when I hear the woman respond.

“I’m looking for a small handgun, please.”

I recognize the voice straight off. It’s the beauty I encountered on the side of the road last week. I straighten, my head swiveling to look over my shoulder. It’s her, all right. My first thought is I can’t believe my luck. My second is, what the hell is she doing in here? I abandon Reno and walk closer so I can overhear the conversation but hang back near a display, pretending a sudden interest in duck calls. The old man waiting on her shows her the features and benefits of a small Ruger.

She tries it in her hand. With hardly more consideration than she’d take picking out a pack of gum, she hands it back. “I’ll take one. Can you put it in a case for me?”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but there’s a waiting period. You won’t be able to take it with you today. I’ll need to fill out some paperwork first, and you’ll have to come back to pick it up.”

“Oh.” Her body deflates at the news, and she swallows. “I see. All right.”

The old man moves off to get the necessary forms, and I move in.

Almost immediately she feels my presence, and her head jerks up. Her eyes widen. “Oh, it’s you.”

“How are you?”

“Fine, and you?”

I frown. She seems nervous. I lift my chin at the Ruger sitting in the glass case. “Please tell me I’m not the reason you’re buying that gun, darlin’.”

“I, um, no of course not.”

I cock my head to the side. “Thought you were just passin’ through. You’re still in town?”

“Obviously.” She averts her eyes.

“Babe, do I make you that nervous?”

Her eyes return to me, then look over my shoulder and widen.

I glance back. Reno. He’s giving her the once over, and I’m sure he’s connecting the dots since I did tell him about her. “Scram,” I growl.

He smiles and ambles off toward the door.

Ashlynn follows him with her eyes, and then looks at me. “You seem to turn up everywhere I am.”

I chuckle. “Sometimes I get lucky.”

The clerk returns with her paperwork. I stand silently while she fills it out and notice she scribbles a local address down. I’ve already got it memorized. I step back when the clerk looks at me. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Nope. Got all I need.” I wander outside and find Reno sitting at our bikes in one of the rows. I glance around for that unmistakable yellow sports car and spot it two rows over.

“So, that’s the chick?” Reno asks.

“And there’s her car. Wait here.”

“Sure, take your time. It’s only eighty-five degrees out here.”

“Fuck off. I just stood in that store for an hour waitin’ on you to pick out a pink camo pistol.”

“True.” He grins.

I amble over to her car. When I do, several customers are checking the vehicle out. When they see me, they take off.

I glance at the tire; it looks brand new, but there’s a fine sheen of dust on it, red Georgia clay, which tells me the address she gave must be in the country or at least must have a dirt drive.

I fold my arms and lean against the car. I can’t wait to hear this story.

I don’t have to wait long. She slows as she sees me, and then beeps the lock on her door.

“So, you live here now?” I ask.

“That’s really none of your business.”

“Babe, I’m not a bad guy.”

“You’re vest suggests otherwise.”

“The MC thing… that’s a deal-breaker for you?”

“Deal-breaker? Oh, no, no, no.” She shakes a finger back and forth. “There won’t be any deals, so don’t get any ideas where you and I are concerned.”

I grin. “Ashlynn, I’ve already got all kinds of ideas where you and I are concerned.”

“Rusty, was it? I really don’t have time for this.”

I clutch at my heart. “Oww, she barely remembers my name. That hurts.”

“You think you’re pretty memorable, do you?”

“Most women think I am.”

“I’m not most women.”

“Yeah, I definitely get that. Normally I wouldn’t waste