Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [768]
“I know you like leather, but most of those would have to be tailored down for you. The straps on the nylon ones can be adjusted down smaller,” Edward said.
“Thanks, Edward. I was missing my rig.” I looked at him, trying to read past the neutral baby blues. “Why this much ammo?”
“Better to not need and have it,” he said.
I frowned at him. “Are we going someplace where I’ll need this much ammo?”
“If I thought that, I’d have packed the mini-Uzi and the sawed-off shotgun. This is just the normal stuff you carry.”
I drew the big blade that would have normally rode down my back. “When they cut off the shoulder holster, they cut through the rig for this, too.”
“Was it a specialty item?”
I nodded.
“I thought it must be because I asked around and no one had a sheath for concealment of something that large for the back, especially not when you throw in how damn narrow you are through the shoulders.”
“It was a custom job.” I laid the big knife back in the bag, almost sadly. “There’s no way to conceal this thing without a rig for it.”
“Did the best I could.”
I smiled at him. “No, it’s great. I mean it.”
“Why are we taking the police in with us to Obsidian Butterfly?”
I told him what Jean-Claude had told me, though not how the message had gotten through. “With the police at our backs, she’ll know it’s not vampire politics and we’ll probably be able to walk out without a fight.”
He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. The white shirt didn’t quite lay smooth over the front of him. His gun was showing but only if you knew what you were looking for. A paddle holster or a clip holster because the gun was riding outside the pants. It explained why the white shirt wasn’t tucked in, and the fact that he was wearing a T-shirt under the shirt probably meant that he had something on him that would chafe without cloth between it and his skin.
“You still carrying that band of throwing darts?” I asked.
“You can’t see it, not with the shirt untucked.” He didn’t even try to deny it. Why should he?
“Because you’re wearing an undershirt, and because the shirt is untucked. I know, it’s partially to hide the gun, but you never wear an undershirt, so you’ve got to be wearing something under the shirt that would chafe without the undershirt.”
He smiled, and it was a pleased smile, almost proud, as if I’d done something smart. “I’m carrying two more guns, a knife, and a garrote. Tell me where they are and I’ll give you a prize.”
My eyes had gone wide. “A garrote. Even for you that’s a little Psychos ’R Us.”
“Give up?”
“No. Is there a time limit?”
He shook his head. “We’ve got all night.”
“If I guess wrong, is there a penalty?”
He shook his head.
“What’s the prize if I figure out where everything is?”
He smiled that close, secretive smile that said he knew things that I didn’t. “It’s a surprise prize.”
“Get out so I can get dressed.”
He touched the belt where it lay on the bed. “This buckle didn’t come black. Who painted it?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
He knew the answer. “So that if I’m out after dark, the buckle doesn’t catch the light and give me away.” I lifted the tail of his white shirt exposing the large ornate silver belt buckle. “This is like a freaking target after dark.”
He looked down at me, making no move to lower the shirt. “It just clips on over the real buckle.”
I let the shirt slide back. “The buckle underneath?”
“It’s blacked,” he said.
We smiled at each other. It went all the way to our eyes. We did like each