“Erika?” I saw her stop out of the corner of my eye as I walked for the cabinet and pulled out one of the two handguns I had stored there. I ejected the magazine from the Glock and checked the chamber to make sure a bullet wasn’t loaded and then held the gun and clip out for her to take. Her eyebrows shot up. “It’s untraceable,” I said. I wasn’t allowed to own firearms, being a felon and all, but oh well.
