“Hold on a minute.” He took the pot off the stove and ladled the soup into the bowls. “Was that your car in the garage?”
“No. That’s Danny’s car. Her husband.” I twisted my fingers together. “I’m just housesitting and got a call for a job interview. I hate driving here, but I didn’t have any other options.”
“Your friend, is she American as well?” He sat a bowl down in front of me before taking the opposite chair.
“Yeah. She met Danny in the States and they went straight on their honeymoon.” Sitting back in my chair I shook my head. “I need to call her.”
God damnit. I didn’t even know her new number.
“That’s not a good idea.” Owen shook his head. “They could be monitoring her.”
“What if it’s not me that they were after? What if they really meant to kill Tess? I have to warn her!” I stood up and stepped toward the counter.
“And if she wasn’t their target, you’ll be putting her in their sights.” Owen didn’t get up, just waited for me to think it over. “Let me see what kind of information I can get before we do anything. There is something weird going on and I don’t like it.”
“You mean weirder than running over a man, being shot at, and stealing cars?”
“That’s a normal work day for me, love.” He winked at me and I thought about punching myself for the giddiness that coursed through my veins. Maybe I should just punch him. Anger was better than panic, right?
“Yeah, I’m beginning to get that.” I sat back down and picked up my spoon. “Who did you call?”
“My handler.” He took a few sips of his soup. “I need to check in and let him know the hit went amiss. I’m also going to ask if there are any hits out for an American woman. Try to feel out the case.”
My stomach clenched. Would he decide to take the job himself once he knew how to get the money? I looked down at my bowl and tried to not show my nerves. One minute I felt completely at ease, contemplating his ass while he cooked, and the next I was shaking like there was a velociraptor watching me while I ate gelatin. I was apparently insane. Or in a really odd situation. Jesus, I wish there was a script I could follow.
He got up from his seat without a word and opened a small drawer next to the stove. When he pulled out the black gun I sat up straight, watching him. If he decided to shoot me there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Casually he checked the chamber and slid the gun across the table to me. I looked from it to him.
“You need to be able to defend yourself.” He sat back down in front of his soup.
“From who?” I slid the gun closer to me. I had used guns on Grandma’s farm. Mostly shotguns or rifles, but it had been a long time.
“From anyone you think is a threat.” He dug back into his soup.
“Would this gun stop you?” I lifted the gun, wrapping my fingers around the grip, careful to avoid the trigger. I dropped the clip and checked the chamber. A large bullet fell onto the table, spinning for a moment. I popped the clip back into the handle, cocked the gun, dropped the clip and replaced the bullet. And I managed to do it all without shaking hands.
“It could.” His amused smile made an appearance. “You know your way around a gun?”
“Some.” I set the pistol back down on the table and decided to eat. I had a feeling it was important to keep my stamina up. “My grandmother owned a farm. So, I know the basics. Mainly it was just shotguns or rifles. Trying to scare predators away from the chickens or occasionally dealing with a sick animal. We didn’t have much to do with pistols, but I did win a couple of sharp shooting competitions in 4H. I didn’t keep up with the training though.” I sighed and tried to not think about that too much. I’d had to put down one of our cattle the year Granny had passed. She’d been too weak to do it and I couldn’t look at the cow suffering any longer.
“Good. Then I don’t have to worry about you shooting yourself.”
“I’d be more worried that I’d accidently shoot you.” I laughed at his expression. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He stood up and went back to the stove for more food. “No one should feel helpless.”
His words rang through the quiet little house. Oddly, I did feel better having the gun. If he was going to kill me, he could have done it already, and certainly wouldn’t have given me a way to defend myself.
I finished my soup quickly. You’d think I wouldn’t be hungry with everything that was going on. I had killed a man today—shouldn’t I feel bad? But instead of praying or offering up Hail Marys, I was scraping the bowl with my spoon like it would magically spout out more chicken.
“I can make more.” Owen watched me, amusement in his expression.
“I don’t know why I’m so hungry.” I pushed back in my seat. “I’ll do it if you don’t mind.”
“Help yourself.” He threw an arm over the back of his chair and watched as I got up and moved through his kitchen.
I looked over the cupboard offerings and picked a can of clam chowder. With the overcast weather and soft patter of rain it seemed like the perfect fit. I took my time as I rinsed out the pot and used the handheld can opener. His eyes followed my every move and I tried to not show how it affected me. There was a tension between us that was undeniable and the new me might have jumped all over that fact, except for everything that was going on.