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“Westorin!” Alastair bellowed.
A few moments later, someone thudded down some steps overhead before a young, dark-haired man emerged from the hallway. “Yes, Grandpa?”
“I need to take the lady to the range and evaluate her skills. Keep an eye on the shop.”
“You got it.”
“Come along, then,” Alastair ordered, waving his hand for me to follow him. “While I won’t send you home with lethal ammunition, I have some rounds that you might like and are legal for you to have loaded in your weapons. The rounds will cost you, but if you’re going to be hauling around firearms, I want you in a position to make use of them, especially if you have no offensive capabilities otherwise.”
“I’m rusty on my martial arts,” I confessed. “And by rusty, I doubt I could remember how to punch somebody without breaking my hand in the process.”
“I can recommend a good trainer if you’d like to brush up on your skills. She’s a white dragon, and she loves turning tiny people into fierce people. And if you’re already fierce, she’ll refine your fierceness until every single dragon in the city wants to take you on a date.”
Ew. “I’m not available for such pursuits, but if she can make me fierce enough to compete with a yellow dragon-kin who is larger and stronger than I am, that’d be nice.”
“A Millson? Those are the only yellows I know that enjoy when their women get feisty with them.”
Damn. Well, if Erik had no problems with having an anonymous as his partner, then I would follow his lead. “Yes, he’s a Millson. I’m a better shot than he is—or I was before I became anonymous here. I’d like to retake my status as a better shot than he is.”
“Now that is something I can help you with.” Alastair led me down the hall, pulled out a set of keys, and opened a door, revealing an armory loaded with every type of firearm I could readily imagine, including a few automatic handguns I’d played with while in Miami. “That’s put you as someone from Miami, as the only Millson boy to have any mystery regarding his woman is that young lad working the Diamond Ward. Erik, the youngest of that lot. The rest are quite public about their women and men. Ex-cop?”
Damn. Were the iron dragons the gossips of Dragon Heights? “Something like that.”
“You’d have to be good if you’re besting a Millson at the range, so let’s see what you got.”
“Erik said you had some guns manufactured by local dragons?”
Alastair flashed me a rather toothy grin. “As a matter of fact, yes. They’re pricy.”
“Below ten grand for one?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s in my budget.”
“Ever work a revolver before?”
“I have.”
Alastair stood on his toes and pulled down a box decorated with battling dragons. “This is the only one of this type I’ve got. It’s a limited edition, and if you treat her well, she’ll treat you well. If you want a more traditional twelve rounder, you want to look at that one.” With his free hand, he pointed at a small gun with a black grip and a silver and gold barrel that’d been polished to a high shine. “For your derringer, you want that one on the bottom shelf with the pink grip and pegasus etchings. Don’t judge her by her appearance. She’s tiny, she’s fierce, and she’ll treat you well.”
Three was more than two, which would be a problem if my license couldn’t handle me having three weapons and I loved all three.
I had a problem with taking home firearms that I loved at the range.
My safe, safely nestled in Miami under my parents’ care, had over twenty guns I’d adopted due to having loved trying them out at the range.
One day, I might learn—but that day would be a long time coming.
I crouched, located the derringer, and giggled over the elegant artwork on the barrels and the ridiculous neon pink on the grip. “I don’t suppose this comes in yellow, does it?”
“It absolutely does. Want it to match your dragon?”
I giggled and nodded. “May as well at this stage. Erik is itching to show me off to his co-workers.” Once I checked the safety and confirmed there were no rounds in the derringer, I placed it beside the black, silver, and gold gun and checked its safety and if it held any rounds, which it didn’t. Once satisfied there was zero chance of accidental discharge, I picked up both weapons and followed after Alastair. “I might get him one, too, but his will need to have a purple grip.”
“I’ve got purple, too, and I am sure I can find his records in the system and register his new firearm. I’ll even hold the weapon for him and start nagging him to come pick up his new friend.”
I smiled at the thought of the shop owner telling Erik he had a gun to pick up. Like me, Erik took care with his firearms, and having a rogue weapon would drive him insane. “Assuming all goes well, that sounds like a great plan.”