Glancing at my daughter, who gazed at me and grinned when I made eye contact, I returned to my task. I removed two handguns from the drawers, found two clips of bullets, and retrieved my holsters. Placing them on the table I stared down at them for several long minutes. Stroking my fingertips along the leather and over the shaped metal of my weapons, I shivered with anticipation. I was anxious, yes. I was also excited. I missed the thrill of the chase. Motherhood was a whole new world to me, and one that was both exhilarating and boring. I ached to be back at work. I needed the drama. Looking at Rosie, I began to strap the holsters to my body, underneath my clothes.
“I’m doing this for you, kid,” I told her grimly, “For you, your sister, and your daddy.”
Come join the dark side of the Valentine season. Do away with romance and embrace the wicked. Here the flowers are wilted and the hearts are broken (or stabbed).
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