Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
He snorts. “Whatever. Leave the lockbox open.”
“Knock yourselves out. Come on, Paige. Let’s go rescue Anne from your demon spawn.”
When I turn back to Colt, he’s watching me with a considering look that turns into a scowl. “This way.”
“They seemed nice,” I venture.
“Paige and Jess? Yeah, they’re trouble, but mostly worth it, I suppose.” He’s crouched down, sorting through a lockbox with various weapon-y looking things in it.
“Just mostly? High praise.”
Colt actually laughs. It’s a nice sound. “Well, I’m not one of their men, so mostly’s as far as they’re going to get.”
“So they’re old ladies?”
“Look at you with the lingo. Yeah, that means they’re sworn to a brother, or in their case, a few.”
“Really?” I turn to watch as Paige and Jess walk around the building, chatting together. “But Paige has a baby. How does that work?”
He blinks up at me with eyes just a few shades different than my own.
“Don’t look at me like that. I know how babies are made. I mean, doesn’t that cause a problem? I don’t understand how half the time it feels like you guys are all ‘grrrr, mine’ and the other half you’re acting like it’s totally normal for a girl to have two husbands.”
“Three,” he corrects. “Two’s probably fine, but they both have three.”
“Now you’re just making fun of me.”
“Just a little.” Colt scrubs a hand through his shaggy hair. “Maybe you should talk to them if you want to hear this kind of shit.”
“Sorry. I’ve always asked too many questions. It drives Mom crazy, too.”
With a shake of his head, he waves for me to come closer. He points at a black pistol that’s lying on a tray in front of one of the lanes. “Here. This is a good, light one to start with. It’s unloaded, but you always, and I mean fucking always, treat it like it’s loaded. No playing with it, no looking down the barrel, no finger on the trigger until you’re ready to squeeze. Clear?”
Like I’m not terrified of it already. I don’t make a move to pick it up. “They taught us that for the props, too, because there’ve been accidents.”
“Good. We’ll work on your stance first. Pick it up. It’s not gonna bite.”
It’s heavier than I expect, cold and rigid in my hands. I make sure to keep the barrel pointed away at the ground. “Okay.”
“Both hands. Wrap one around the other, make sure you have a solid grip on it. Aim at the target.” There’s a paper target attached to a wall built with hay bales. It has the outline of a torso on it with different lines and colors. I aim for the center.
He adjusts my stance, making me square my shoulders and fixing my arms. “Here, like this. Spread your legs a little.” He emphasizes it by batting his boot against the inside of my foot. There’s something about the strong, straightforward way he orders me around that I don’t exactly hate.
Colt gets behind me, reaching around to guide my arms. With my back pressed against his chest, it’s a lot more intimate than I expected. I swallow hard, trying to concentrate. Something tells me the biker behind me is a lot more dangerous than the gun in front.
“Alright, look past the sights, right at where you’re aiming. It’s like trying to draw a straight line. Easier if you keep your focus ahead of where you’re at. See it?”
I try to do what he says, looking right at the center of the bullseye. He covers my hands with his own, prepared to absorb some of the kick with his own strength. There’s a subtle, woodsy scent coming from his skin. I didn’t notice it earlier when we were riding together.
“Good. Now squeeze the trigger gently. Doesn’t take much, just gotta hold it steady.”
I draw a breath, steeling myself not to flinch. Sliding my index finger onto the trigger, I pull carefully. The mechanism clicks loudly, making me jump back into Colt with a surprised squeak. I’d completely forgotten we didn’t load it yet, and now I feel stupid and embarrassed. It takes a moment before I step forward again.
He chuckles. “If you wanted to cuddle, you coulda just said so. That’s why we started empty. Do it again.”
I’m glad he can’t see my face when he says that.
We take up position again, and now that I know what to expect it goes more easily.
“Okay, I’m gonna load it now.” He pulls the gun gently from my fingers and pops out the magazine. When he’s done, he hands it back, and I very determinedly point it at the ground in front of me. “This is live. You hold in your hands the power to kill someone. Never fucking forget that.”
This was a terrible idea. I don’t think I could ever bring myself to actually pull the trigger on someone.