“When do we go shooting?”
“Tomorrow. Early.”
I groaned. “How early?”
“Earlier than you like. Want to complain?”
“Nope. Let’s do it.”
“Thought so.” He hesitated and looked at me. I couldn’t read his expression, but I thought there was a sense of pride in his eyes.
He laughed again and left, shaking his head.
I sat down on the couch and stared up at the ceiling.
This was my life now. One second, I was bored and wishing something interesting would happen. And the next I was terrified for my life.
I couldn’t tell if I liked it or loved it.
17
Owain
I got her up at the crack of dawn, a half hour before the sun began to peek up over the horizon.
I didn’t need to do that. I could’ve let her sleep as late as she wanted. The shooting range we were going to was owned by another guy in the crew, a man named Brett Crofts. I shot him a message the night before letting him know that I was going to use his facility for a little training, and that meant I could head in whenever I damn well pleased.
But she didn’t need to know that.
She grumbled the whole way over. Big sweatshirt, tight black jeans, large brown boots, and a messy bun—she looked gorgeous, even though she complained the whole time about how early it was and how she didn’t have enough time to get ready. At least I was nice enough to stop in at the coffee shop around the corner right as they opened and got her favorite drink.
I was a gentleman, after all.
The range was on the outskirts of west Philly in a large, single-story building with a gun shop attached. I parked out front and led her to a side door with a pin pad outside. I entered the pin, the door buzzed open, and I let her inside.
The space was cavernous and completely abandoned.
“This is pretty cool.” She walked along the shooting stalls and looked out across the range where targets hung from ropes that could be pulled in and out. “Do you normally comes when it’s empty?”
“I know the owner.” I walked over to a large storage locker and got out two pairs of hearing protection. No need to fuck up our ears all day for this shit. I walked back over to her and steered her toward the center stall.
“So how’s this work? We do some gun safety first?”
I snorted. “Probably should.”
“But I take it you’re too gangster for that.”
I grunted and took my Glock from my waistband. It was a 9mm semiautomatic with a custom grip. I kept it in perfect working condition because I knew I needed to ready at a moment’s notice. She stared at the gun as it sat there in front of her on the metal shelf.
“Pick it up.”
She hesitated. “Is it loaded?”
“Assume any gun you see is loaded.”
She nodded and hefted it into her hand. The grip was a little too big for her, but not too bad. She immediately put her finger on the trigger. I stepped in behind her, pressing my body close to hers, and helped adjust her stand, her grips, and positioned her finger on the side of the trigger guard.
“This feels awkward,” she said, moving her feet.
“Trust me. Stand like this. You need a solid base so that the recoil doesn’t fuck your aim up too bad.”
“I don’t see you take a solid base. Heck, nobody does.”
“We do, you just don’t notice because you’re too busy freaking out. At least, the guys that survive do.”
She snorted but let me adjust her to my liking, which was fun for me. I got a little liberal with my hands as I moved her legs, her thighs, and at one point gripped her ass, just for my own pleasure. She glared at me, but she didn’t complain.
“When di I get to shoot?”
“Soon.” I stepped ack and admired her. Nothing sexier than a hot girl with a gun. “Okay, here’s your safety lesson. Assume all guns are loaded at all times. Which means whenever you have a gun in your hand, that gun can kill someone.”
“Got it.”
“Never, ever aim your gun at another human being unless you intend on killing them. Do you understand?”
“Sure, makes sense.”
“That means accidentally as well. Always pay attention to where your barrel is aimed. If you’re not sure and you don’t want to think about it at all times, aim it down at the ground , angled forward slightly so you don’t shoot your foot off.”
“Okay, fine.”
“The majority of guns don’t have safeties, unlike the movies, so that’s not a thing. Triggers are harder to pull than you realize. Most guns won’t go off if you stick them in your pocket. You need a fair amount of force to get it going.”
“Why do movies and TVs always have safeties on and stuff then?”
“I don’t know. It’s a cliché I guess.” I stepped up behind her again and raised her arms up. “Sight down it like this. Keep your target in focus and let that small notch line up with these two notches. When they’re aligned, take a deep breath, and as you exhale, squeeze.”
“And it’ll shoot?”
“No, it won’t.” I took the gun from her and removed a magazine from my pocket. “First, you have to load it.”
I showed her how, showed her how to take the bullets out, how to make sure the barrel was clear. Once we went over that twice and she did it herself, making sure to keep the barrel down range at all times, I let her hold a loaded weapon.
“It’s surprisingly heavy.”
“Right? Feels good in the hand.”
She chewed her lip and got into her stance. “Should I shoot?”
“After I put the hearing things on, you can go wild. Sound good?”
She nodded. I put the hearing protecting over her head then put on my own. She glanced back at me and I gestured at the target. It was about twenty feet away, so not too far but not too close.
