Much too self-conscious, Nick immediately suspected she’d been going through his glove compartment. “Watch out for the Glock .45. It’s loaded and dangerous,” he scolded, flicking an undisguised rebuke. “Nice pistol, but I prefer the Glock .40. The large double-stacks on the .45 are just too big for my hand. I need the versatility and comfort of a sub-compact.” She pulled a small pistol out of her oversized handbag. It fit like a glove in her hand, and she held absolutely no feminine remorse about toting so lethal a weapon. “Should have guessed. Just promise me you’ll leave my firearms alone. You have a permit for that thing, I take it?” “Of course. I’m by-the-book Fox, you know.” “Right.” He started the engine. “While we’re waiting for Steven’s results, why don’t we return to my house and fiddle around with the Internet.
