Zeke chuckled in an attempt to dispel that thought, telling him, “I’m not going to spend twenty-four-seven with you, only when you’re out in public. I’ll also check your house before I let you go inside. After you take your car home this evening, I’ll be your driver when you go to and from work, or shopping or, well as I said, whenever you’re around people.”
“Will you…?” Greg paused when the waitress brought their food—sandwiches for each of them—and then left.
“Will I what?”
Greg leaned forward, almost whispering. “Have a gun?”
“Possibly, although I’m not a big fan of them. I’m not a superhero. Bullets don’t bounce off me—” he grinned, “—or knives, or baseball bats, or…” The grin faded. “Or whatever he used to get his hands on Rory.”
Greg sobered instantly. “You think that’s what he
