Free When a Man Loves a Weapon by Toni McGee Causey

knowing that exposing his clientele was a line he’d be very wise not to cross, because as a bookie, one of the things he guaranteed was his clients’ anonymity.
    “You know I can’t tell you that, Bobbie Faye,” Nick said, pleading. He’d probably end up with his own kneecaps broken.
    “Sure you can.”
    “He’ll shoot me.”
    “What makes you think he won’t shoot you if you don’t talk?” she asked.
    “Oh, not
him
,” Nick answered quickly, nodding toward Riles. “A different
him
.”
    Bobbie Faye propped her elbow on the counter, giving Nick a good imitation of relaxed, all while her hand closed on that Ruger. “I don’t think your odds are a lot better here if you
don’t
answer. And if you’re afraid to tell me the name, then I must know him.”
    Nick’s eyes widened, his jaw dropped open, and then he slammed his mouth closed. So that was a
yes
.
    “Is it someone who recently tried to blow me up?”
    Riles snorted. “I’m sensing that wouldn’t really narrow it down for you.” But he stepped up and put some sort of Ninja warrior whathootsie hold on Nick’s shoulder and Nick slammed to his knees. “Tell the Walking Disaster what she wants to know.”
    “He knows where I live,” Nick said, genuinely scared.
    Who did she know who had enough money to place big bets, big enough to worry Nick? Who knew where Nick lived?
    One person came glaringly to mind. “Alex?” she asked, and Nick turtled his neck down and arms and legs in, trying to make himself as small as humanly possible, which wasn’t all that easy for a guy who was probably five-ten and two hundred thirty pounds.
    “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.” Alex.
    “I didn’t say a name,” Nick pointed out. “If anyone asks, I never said a name. You guessed. I can’t help what you guess.”
    “This time he is so dead.” Or maybe she finally would publish those love poems to her he’d written and was now humiliated over. The local paper had a blog. They would soooooooo put up poems from a gunrunner. (She had givenback the originals as promised. She never promised not to make copies.)
    “
This
time?” Riles asked. “You’ve tried to kill him other times?”
    “No,” she said, but Nick nodded. “No,” she re-emphasized.
    “You blew up his car,” Nick pointed out. “On purpose. When you were aiming for his house.”
    “I knew he wasn’t in the house. Or the car. And frankly, he’s lucky that’s all I did.” She felt she’d been all restraint and merciful.
    Riles gaped at her. Horrified. He was a former sniper for Special Ops and he had the nerve to look at her as if she was some sort of aberrant quirk of human nature.
    “He’s her ex,” Nick supplied for Riles.
    “Her ex? Hold on . . .
you
tried to kill
a cop
?” Riles asked, apparently having been filled in by Trevor on just who her most recent ex was. Detective Cameron Moreau, state police, and weirdly, still in her life. Once they had been best friends, then lovers, then furious enemies, and now? Now, he wanted her back, and she was so confused about him, just thinking his name made her head hurt.
    “No, not
that
ex,” Nick said, helpfully. “The
other
one.”
    “You have more than one angry ex you want to kill?” Riles asked. “Do you like, what? Get a free toaster oven when you reach a half a dozen?”
    There was a collective gasp from the staff and customers hidden in the aisles, and then a couple of nervous giggles, then dead silence. The hum of the ancient overhead fans chopped through the air, but not a single other thing dared make a sound. It was as if the whole world needed CPR.
    She glanced around and sure enough, every customer plus Ce Ce, Monique, and the twins who worked the front counter, Allison and Alicia, were all diligently examining goods on the aisles around her gun counter. In fact, the word “diligent” would have been quite proud just then, because they were collectively holding their breaths, waiting for Bobbie Faye to