Page 42 of Beastly Armory
“I’ll be ready in ten.” I say, rolling my eyes and slamming the door in his face, muffling his hearty chuckle that seeps underneath the gap in the threshold.
In a few minutes, I’m ready to check out of the hotel. Before we leave, I observe Derichs staring longingly at the restaurant, his tattooed fingers mindlessly fiddling with the strap of his backpack.
“I’m hungry,” I announce.
“Me too!” Derichs says, a big smile crossing his serious face.
Pointing with my head, I ask them, “Do you want to eat in there?”
Derichs darts his eyes to Max, who rolls his and sighs. “Fine.” Max throws my bag and his over his shouldersand shoves off the front desk to lumber over to the hostess stand. Like he’s an unruly teenager.
Once we get a table and place our orders, Max seems to have softened in his resolve to not allow me to pay as his hand grips his growling stomach. Making sure other patrons are out of ear’s reach, he goes over our game plan.
“Derichs will sit in the car, in case we need to get away.”
“Yes, but what do you think he’llwant?” It’s all I could think about last night in the tub before the wine took away negative thoughts. Now that we’re getting ready for the evening, my throat feels tighter again. I’m a fox. My type isusedto planning things well in advance andThe Earwill be a complete unknown to me. I hate surprises.
Could I have asked for my brother’s help? Yes. And he would know everything about the man in seconds. But… he wouldn’t help me, I know. I didn’t need another pacification lecture.
“Markus called this morning. No updates from our intelligence. We know everything you do, unless you’ve learned something—” Max tilts his head at me and pauses while the waiter sets our food down and asks if we have everything we need.
“How’s Hannah, Derichs?” I ask him, changing the subject while we get situated.
Derichs’s deep-set brown eyes become glassy, dreamy, a man in love. “She’s good. She was jealous of our picnic last night. I took pictures for her.”
That’s sweet. He’s a good man, I know. How do Iknow? Because all I’ve known is pieces of shit and Derichs is not one. “Is she in Gnarled Pine?”
“No. She teaches pre-school in Drussville.” That’s about an hour away from us.
“Oh, that must be hard. Is she planning to move closer?”
Chewing slowly, he swallows his club sandwich partially. With a bite still in his open mouth, he says, “I-I don’t want her in Gnarled Pine.” Wiping the corner of his mouth with a finger, he takes another bite, stifling his conversation.
Max and I lock eyes, understanding passing between us both. It’s smart. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t want to live in our town or have any of my loved ones anywhere near it. Derichs is noble for staying and trying to help his clan. Maybe all of us are. Or maybe we’re just insane. The constant threat of death if we leave helps keep us in line, I suppose.
“Well, we should meet her sometime,” I say politely, breaking Max’s entrancing stare.
“Sure,” Derichs says just as graciously. He doesn’t mean it and neither do I. If he loves her, he’ll keep her far away from the Hollow and our kind. We don’t play well with others and their children may end up in one of Strauss’s trafficking rings, or worse.
“Maybe we could meet her there sometime,” Max says to him, giving me a glance. He means him and I. Like a double date. I sigh heavily, staring at the remnants of my thick burger.
“Hey, that would be fun. They have this bar arcadethere that’s pretty cool. We like to go. Friendly competition with the Skee-Ball?”
Shifting my hips in my seat, I suddenly wish I’d never brought up the subject. Both seem to feel as though I’m part of their crew, a Freidenberg... a bear. Strangely, it makes me feel very isolated. Sure, I was used to being alone, even in my own household. What with Cal running everything as ruler of West Side while dipping his eyes into every camera around town. I was only expected to marry someone with a name and have babies, get cheated on with a governess or two, and perhaps get murdered. Rubbing my hands on my napkin, I look at my lap and swallow.
Max slides his eyes to me and notices my sulk. “I don’t think foxes are skilled like that,” he goads me, tapping an elbow into my ribs, but I flinch before he makes too much contact.
Snarling, I tell him, “Better than bears. You probably just jam the ball in the hole without any finesse.”
Max snorts. “Foxy, I’d jam your fine ass with my balls, and you’d still love it.”
“Aw, does the big bear have some blue balls? Not getting what you want, hungry lion?”
Derichs clears his throat and throws his napkin on the table. “Uh… Gun range?”
I nod, and Max laughs loudly but agrees it’s time to go.
Once we arrive, we pay our fees and gear up. Max asks for an AK, and one for me as well. I’ve never shot a rifle, but before I can protest, Max says, “I’ll teachyou.” The rumbling in his voice makes me want him to teach me a lot of things as it vibrates all the way down my body and to my core.