when she left home, but this was next level. Rifles, semiautomatics, handguns, and magazines of ammunition all gleamed in the low light. One shelf contained boxes and boxes of bullets and cartridges.
She bit her lip as she counted at least thirty weapons. She had grown up hunting, her pink child-sized rifle a natural extension of her arm during the season. For large swathes of her childhood, the ability to hunt was the only reason her family didn’t starve.
But thirty? That was a whole lot of guns for one man.
She ground her teeth together to stop herself from saying anything. They’d already had this caustic debate more times than she could count in the years after she’d left for university and discovered a different world to the one she’d grown up in. Her father saw her views as yet another way that she had betrayed her roots and joined the ranks of the liberal elite.
“A handgun.” She didn’t say it until she trusted herself to talk. “One I can conceal.” The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that there was only one reason Meredith would have flown twenty-something of them to Duluth for a week of “team bonding.” She wasn’t going into it unarmed.
“You still got your permit?” Her father picked up one of his rifles and pointed it at the wall in a practiced maneuver.
“Yup.” She’d had a permit to carry in Minnesota since she’d been legally allowed one. She kept renewing it. There was something oddly comforting about the fact that if she ever returned home, she could at least pack a pistol—which was more than anyone could do in New York short of being in law enforcement or a celebrity.
“Here.” Her dad reached into the safe. “I got this one for your mom, but she won’t mind if you borrow it. It’s a G19.”
Lacey took the Glock and held it in her palm. It was light and compact, fitting her hand well. She used to be a crack shot, but she hadn’t fired a gun in years. And she wasn’t going to have time to find a range. Muscle memory would have to suffice if she needed it. Hopefully, she wouldn’t. She slid the clip out and checked that it was empty, then checked the chamber.
Her father pulled a small case out from under the bed. “How many bullets you want? A couple of hundred? More?”
“Just one box.” She placed the Glock into the cushioned case, then added the box of bullets her father handed her. Zipping the case shut, she lifted it off the spare bed.
“Here’s the holster I got with it.” Her father flipped a leg holster up from under the bed. “I have others if you want.”
“This will be fine.” A leg holster was the best way to conceal it. All going well, she’d never have a reason to use it, and her colleagues would never know it was there. “I’ll bring it back before I leave. Won’t be more than a week.”
“That’ll be fine.” His father rubbed the scruff on his cheek. “Is everything okay?”
“Why don’t you tell me, Dad?” Lacey looked pointedly at the overflow of boxes stacked along the wall. “What happened to the money I sent for house maintenance?”
“We’ll get to it, baby. I promise.” They both knew they wouldn’t. Not as long as her mother sat in the den with a credit card in one hand and her phone in the other.
But they’d always been good at playing pretend.
CHAPTER SIX
You had to feel a little sorry for the British contingent. They’d been expecting an all-expenses-paid week in New York at some swish hotel.
As soon as she’d walked into the cocktail party, Lacey had known that Meredith was lulling people into a false sense of security. A sleight of hand, switching a week in the city that never sleeps for … well, they’d find out soon enough. But their anonymous two-star hotel somewhere in Duluth was only a staging ground.
Lacey scanned the buffet set up in the bland hotel conference room and helped herself to some fruit. She’d made good time with her side trip, even with the stop she made after her parents’ place. She’d arrived a few minutes before the taxis had appeared with the people who’d been on the second flight.
She studied the room for a second, determined to keep her gaze away from Victor, who was in a huddle with his colleagues.
The Brits and the Yanks clustered in their separate groups, each occasionally