Betrayal

Betrayal Part 10

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

She swallowed hard. "Why won't I like it?"

"Luke told me you don't like guns."

"I don't."

"Then you won't like carrying one. When I found out what happened last night, I decided you should carry my little pistol. What if you need to save yourself, or Luke, if he's hurt? You need to carry a weapon."

She felt relief and dismay at the same time. "I don't know if I can. My hand shakes every time I think of touching one."

"Why? Did you have a bad experience?"

Bethany hesitated. Then taking a deep breath she decided to share the memory that still haunted her dreams. She'd kept it to herself for too long. She licked her lips, and said, "My father was abusive. One day he came in waving a gun, threatening to shoot my mom and me. I was only nine years old. When he got drunk and passed out, still holding the pistol we left and went on the run. I spent years worrying he'd find us and use that gun to kill us."

Ron turned a corner and pulled in front of a building. "Many things are deadly in the wrong hands. He would have hurt innocents. You won't."

"You don't understand. The idea makes me sick. I don't think I can touch it."

"We'll take it slow. I'll show you it's unloaded. Then you'll hold it. Afterwards, I'll load it and you can put it in your purse. It's only for an emergency. Can you do that for Luke?"

She wasn't sure. The terror of seeing her father wave a gun at her stuck in her mind. Yet, Rod was right. She couldn't sit around expecting everyone else to protect her.

"I'll try, but I can't promise," she said.

He looked around carefully before bringing her into the building. She stood with him as he unlocked his door. Rod struck her as the sort of man who wouldn't care about decorating. Once inside his small apartment, her instincts proved right. She studied the scantily furnished living room containing an old plaid couch, end table, and a small wooden table with two chairs.

Returning with the pistol, Rod said, "Watch while I unload it."

He opened the cylinder and emptied the bullets. Holding it up for her to see, he told her, "See nothing in the chamber. You can hold it."

Bethany's heart raced. She felt faint. "I don't know if I can."

"Close your eyes and hold out your hand."

Bethany squeezed her eyes closed and froze. She didn't want to feel the cold metal of a killing instrument against her skin. "I just can't."

"You know there are no bullets. Just touch it."

Trying to block out the terrifying memory of her father, she touched her finger to the dreaded object. She withdrew it as though she'd been burned.

"Okay. That's good enough for now. We'll work more on this later. Put it in your purse."

She shook her head. "I don't have a license to carry."

"It's not loaded. But it should be. That's our next goal. The police may not be on hand when you need them."

Bethany watched him slip it into her purse. She hated having it. Yet, she knew he was right. She'd never been the helpless sort. For that reason, she would overcome her fear.

He drove to her apartment. When they arrived, Mrs. Armenti was sitting on the sofa with a knitting project in her hands. She drew her brows together in a worried expression. "How is Luke? Will he be all right?"