“Smith and Wesson 500s, Gen4 Glock 23, 9mm Beretta, SIG Sauer P226.”
I nodded as he named them. He knew what I carried. Joel Garber was the only person in the county that could organize silver bullets. If you asked me every police officer needed to carry at least one cartridge of silver, not only the vampire-prison guards, but vampires hadn’t made that kind of name for themselves yet.
“You’re a star,” I said, taking out cartridges I had on me and filling them. The rest I would put in the storage compartment on my bike. I always felt better when I had a fresh set of ammo.
“Should last you a while,” Joel said.
“I hope so.”
Joel walked to the narrow locker in the corner and opened it. He took out a gun and walked back to me.
I whistled, taking it from him. It was a Carbine AR-15. Th
