The evening ended early because Corey had to work the next morning. On the way back to Corey’s apartment, Scott could sense the younger man’s tension rising. Because he’s afraid the stalker’s been there again? Or because of me?
“Do you think…?” Corey didn’t finish his sentence.
“Sometimes,” Scott joked in an attempt to relax him.
A tiny smile crossed Corey’s lips. “I was going to ask, do you think he would have broken in again?”
“He’s crazy, so yeah, maybe. The more likely scenario is he’s been by my place again.”
“You’ll be careful when you go home?”
“Always.”
“Do you…? Are you armed? Well”—Corey almost grinned—“I know you weren’t carrying at the club. I think I’d have felt it.”
“You think, huh?” Scott chuckled, then said seriously, “I was actually. I always carry a throwaway in an ankle holster.”
That wasn’t quite the truth. There were times when he was deep undercover when he couldn’t be armed. Not going to tell him that, though. He’ll freak. Maybe. “I’ll get out my regular pistol after we get to your place.”
Corey opened the glove compartment and then lifted the console cover and peered inside. “Where do you hide it?”
“In the trunk.”
“I didn’t see it when we were supposedly looking at the painting.” Then Corey rolled his eyes. “No, duh. It wouldn’t be hidden if I had.”
“Exactly.” Scott drove into the lot behind Corey’s building, parked, and they got out after he popped the trunk lid. He retrieved his gun in its holster from the well-concealed space under the trunk carpet and strapped the holster to his belt at the small of his back.
“What if you’d needed it while you were driving?” Corey asked as they headed to the building.
“As I said, I always have the ankle gun, and normally I’m carrying the pistol too. Just not when I go to clubs. The management frowns on that.”
“Most places probably do,” Corey replied, unlocking the back door. Once inside they walked down the hallway to the lobby and took the elevator up to his floor.
I would be a nervous wreck if I were Corey
ReplyDeleteNo kidding.
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