Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
~SHANE~
“ Y ou have a shooting range.”
It’s the following morning, and I’m pleased to see that the shadows have cleared from Ivie’s eyes this morning. After a quick breakfast, I brought the sexiest woman alive to my own private little playground, out here in the middle of nowhere.
It’s a bit overkill, as Carmine would say. But it keeps me in top form. I have to practice and work on my skills so I don’t get killed on the job.
“Yes, I do.” I press my palm to a plate to unlock the door with my print, and the door slides open. I flip a switch, and lights illuminate the massive area that I carved into the side of the mountain.
“Holy shit, Shane, this is some crazy high-tech stuff,” she says. “I thought this only existed in movies.”
“If you have the money and know the right people, it’s out there.”
“And you know the right people. You’re a little scary. Also, this was just a door in the side of a hill,” she reminds me.
“Actually, once upon a time, this was a gold mine. Gold is huge up here in the mountains, and just about five miles that way,”—I point to the west—“is a mine that yields several million dollars in gold every day. This particular shaft has been abandoned for a hundred years at least. When I bought the property, I knew it would be the perfect place to hollow out and put in my shooting range.”
“Of course.” She nods, then glances around with her hands on her hips. “That’s what I would think when I see an abandoned mine. Let’s make it into a super-secret, high-tech shooting range .”
“Precisely.” I laugh at her sarcasm and pull her to me for a quick kiss, then lead her to another door before I decide to press her against the wall and take her right there in the side of a mountain. “Lay your hand right here.”
She frowns but does as I ask. I tap on the screen of my phone, recording her palm print into the security system. When the light blinks green, another door slides open.
“You have access to this door now,” I say as more lights flip on and we step inside.
“Holy. Shit.” She stops and turns in a circle, taking in the weapons lining the walls around us. I’m fully equipped with everything a person could ever need—especially if they’re going to war. “It’s an arsenal.”
“Yes.” I take a deep breath as she turns back to me and stares up at me with confused blue eyes.
“Who the hell are you, Shane?”
“It’s better if you don’t know the answer to that.” I take her hand and walk her to the back of the vault where the bulk of my handguns are stored behind glass in a case mounted to the wall. The ammunition is kept beneath the case in a stainless-steel cabinet. “We’re starting out small and easy. This is a .22 pistol. It won’t have much kickback, and it will fit easily in your hands.”
I take the weapon from behind the glass and offer it to her.
“Shane—”
“It’s not loaded yet. I want you to hold it. Get a feel for the weight of it, how it feels in your palm. A weapon should be an extension of your hand. It’s a tool.”
She does as I ask, careful not to point the barrel at herself or me.
“This isn’t your first rodeo.” My voice is full of surprise as I watch her hold the weapon with the hands of someone who’s done it many times before.
“I took a class once,” she says softly. “But it made me nervous because I am so clumsy. I always worried that I’d hurt someone.”
“You didn’t have confidence,” I reply and retrieve two boxes of ammo for the gun, then take her hand and lead her to the firing range. “Which tells me that whomever you took the class from was shitty at their job.”
“Maybe. I was one of about twenty students.”
“I’m not shitty at this,” I inform her as I set up a target, then flip a switch and send the paper with its black outline down the lane about twenty yards. “In fact, it might be one of the things I’m best at. And we can practice as long as it takes to get you comfortable. I want this to be as easy as breathing for you.”
“We could be here a while,” she says with a laugh.
“I have time.” I kiss her cheek, then reach for two sets of eye and ear protection. “Okay, we’re going to start simple. Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“For this round, I’ll load and get you ready to go. But after this, you’ll do it. We’ll also practice doing it quickly. The bad guys won’t wait for you to load a gun.”
“I feel like I’m in boot camp,” she mutters, making me laugh.
“Nah. We’re much more friendly here.” I load the magazine with rounds of ammo, clip it into the gun, and pass it to Ivie. “Here we go.”
I step back to watch her first, to see how much she already knows. Her stance is excellent, feet spread shoulder-width apart, her hands wrapped around the gun, her shoulders down.
Damn, she looks like a fucking pro.
When she empties the magazine, she turns to me.
“I don’t buy that you didn’t do well in that class.”
She shrugs a shoulder. “I didn’t say I didn’t do well. I just didn’t feel comfortable.”
“Okay, let’s build that confidence.”
“How do you feel?” I ask her after we lock up the range and head toward the barn.
“I’m okay,” she says.
“Does anything hurt?”
“My hands are tired. Who knew that squeezing a trigger that much could wear out your hands?”
I knew. But I keep the thought to myself.
“We have one more stop this morning.”
“Are we feeding animals?” she asks as I park by the barn.
“No. I don’t have much for animals here. Just some elk, deer, and the occasional mountain lion or bear.” I wink at her, and we walk toward the barn door, which is also secured with a palm plate.
“It feels like your security might be overkill.”
I turn and look at her, then bust up laughing. “That’s exactly what Carmine says.”
“Your brother’s not wrong.”
“The security is necessary. And right now, I’m damn glad I have it to keep you safe. Come on.”
We walk inside, and I’m pleased to see that Curt is already here.
I converted the barn into a massive gym about five years ago. On this floor, we have a sparring ring and weights. The second floor has treadmills, ellipticals, rowing machines, and bikes.
“You don’t do anything half-assed, do you?” Ivie asks, turning to me.
“No, ma’am. What’s the point in that? Or the fun?” I cross to Curt, who’s already dressed in a simple T-shirt and gym shorts. “Thanks for doing this.”
“Hey, I just work here,” he says with a half-smile.
“What are we doing?” Ivie asks, her brow raised.
“Sparring.”
She coughs in surprise and then stares at the two of us. “The two of you are going to beat each other up? Why do I have to be here for this?”
“No, honey. You and Curt are going to spar. I’m going to coach you.”
She looks back and forth between us. “You’re insane.”
“That may be true, but it doesn’t change things. Now, let’s step into the ring.”
“No.” Ivie crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not hitting anyone.”
“Let me ask you something.” I don’t walk to her, just stand my ground and fist my hands at my sides. “If you’d had some self-defense training, would that asshole have been able to take you out of the office like that? Would he have been able to stick that syringe into you and just walk you out of there?”
“I don’t?—”
“No. The answer to that is no. Now, we’re going to make sure that no one has the opportunity to do that again, Ivie. And this is part of that.”
“I don’t want to punch Curt. He’s too nice for that.”
“No,” Curt says with a shake of his head. “I’m not. I probably have it coming, Miss Ivie.”
“You’re Southern,” she says. “Where are?—?”
“Let’s do this,” Curt interrupts and walks into the ring, deflating Ivie’s sails.
“I’m going to break through that wall he’s got up,” she says to me as she stomps past. “Mark my words.”
I just shake my head and follow behind her, enjoying the way her hips sway when she’s riled up.
Ivie certainly has less experience with hand-to-hand than she does firing a gun. We spend an hour just going over the basics.
She’s sweaty and panting when I give her the order to go ahead and punch Curt in the face.
“No.” She turns to me in horror. “I’m not going to actually punch him.”
“Yes, you are.”
“It’s okay,” Curt assures her. “You can’t hurt me.”
Ivie’s eyes narrow at the challenge, and I see determination fill them as she takes the stance we’ve been teaching her, stomps on his foot, then follows through with a right hook to the jaw, sending Curt back on his ass.
“Oh, yeah?” Ivie asks, staring down at him.
“Okay, I was wrong.” He cradles his jaw in his hand and shifts it back and forth. “That hurt. Nice one, Miss Ivie.”
“Thanks.” She grins and offers her hand to help him off the floor.
But Curt doesn’t like to be touched, so he just shakes his head and climbs to his feet unassisted.
“One more time,” Curt says.
“I really don’t want to hit you again,” Ivie says and turns pleading eyes to me. “Don’t make me.”
“You’re too nice,” Curt says and approaches her from behind. Wrapping his arm around her neck, Ivie immediately slips into defensive mode. She slips out of his hold, knees him in the balls, and jams the heel of her hand into his nose, making it bleed. “Never mind. Not too nice.”
“Oh, God.” Ivie covers her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry.”
“You did exactly what you were supposed to do,” Curt says and dabs at his nose. “I provoked you on purpose. A few more lessons, and you’ll be able to kick both our asses with a blindfold on.”
Ivie’s smile is wide and proud. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Curt replies. “Good job.”
“Why won’t Curt talk about himself?” Ivie asks when we walk into the house, and I start making us sandwiches for a late lunch.
“I told you, he has some baggage. He doesn’t like to be around people.”
“He can’t be more than thirty-five,” she says.
“What does his age have to do with anything?”
She shrugs and bites into a potato chip. “I don’t know. It just seems sad. He’s so young.”
I stop opening the mayo and slowly turn to her. “Ivie, are you telling me that you have a crush on my ranch manager?”
She scowls and then laughs. “No. No, he’s not the one I have a crush on at all. I just feel bad for him because he seems kind. And he’s young and handsome and?—”
“If you keep singing Curt’s praises, I’ll fire him.”
She laughs in earnest and crosses over to me. She wraps her arms around my middle and lays her cheek on my chest. “I just like him. And maybe I feel bad for him.”
“Don’t.” I kiss the top of her head. “He’s where he wants to be, doing what he loves.”
She sighs and then tips her face up to mine. “I’m glad you’re his friend. I’m hungry.”
“If you stop singing Curt’s praises, I’ll finish making lunch.”
She grins. “Deal.”
She pulls another handful of chips out of the bag and munches happily as she watches me build sandwiches.
“Are we ever going to have sex?”
The turkey falls out of my hand and onto the counter as I spin and stare at her. “What?”
“Sex. You and me. Is it ever going to happen, or are we just going to flirt and kiss and drive me crazy forever? I just want to know so I can plan accordingly.”
“What if the answer is no sex?”
She shrugs. “Then I need to order a vibrator or something because a girl can’t be with a sexy guy like you forever and not touch the goods. Is that how it’s going to be?”
“Fuck, no.” I shake my head and return to the sandwiches. “You were a little upset last night, Ivie. And we had things to do this morning.”
“So, you’re a planner when it comes to sex.”
I cut the sandwiches and deliver them to the breakfast bar. She immediately digs into hers as if we’re discussing the stock market. I take a bite, as well.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You just said?—”
“I know what I said. And it didn’t include plans for sex. It just wasn’t…shit, I don’t know. I want you so badly that I ache with it. I’ve wanted you naked and under me the minute I saw you at Annika’s wedding, for Christ’s sake. Keeping my hands to myself has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Cool. Let’s not do that anymore, okay?”
“Do what?”
“Keep our hands to ourselves. I’m sleeping in your bed. I haven’t told you no, and I don’t plan to. I’m on the pill, I’m healthy, and I want you, Shane. I’m not playing games here. This also isn’t a Stockholm syndrome thing. I’d want you under any circumstance. So now you know.”
“Are you about done with that sandwich?”
She grins and sets it on the plate. “Yeah.”
“Good.”
I circle the breakfast bar and take her face in my hands, staring down into her fierce, blue eyes. “If there’s anything you don’t like, you need to tell me.”
“I’m not shy, and I don’t think you could do much that I won’t like.”
“Jesus, I don’t deserve you.” I kiss her long and hard and then take her hands and pull her quickly through the house to my bedroom. I close and lock the door.
“Expecting someone?” she asks.
“I’m not taking any damn chances.” I shuck my boots and yank my shirt over my head. “Now that I have you here, right where I want you, I’m not taking any chances that someone could fuck this up.”
“Good plan.” She smiles and pulls the band out of her ponytail, setting her hair free, letting it tumble around her shoulders. Then, she calmly pulls her pink shirt over her head and lets it fall to the floor. With her eyes on mine, she unclasps her bra from the front and drops it with the shirt.
I swallow hard. Jesus fucking Christ, she’s gorgeous. Those full breasts that I can’t wait to get my hands on are on full display, her nipples already tight and begging for my lips.
When she reaches for the waistband of her yoga pants, I shake my head once and then step forward.
“Let me,” I whisper as I take her hand in mine and draw it up to my lips. “Let me unwrap the rest of you. I’m going to worship every damn inch of your gorgeous body.”
“It’s good, then, that I have lots of extra inches for you to enjoy.” Her lips twitch, in both humor and a little insecurity.
“Every bit of you is stunning. And I’m going to show you, slowly and methodically, just how much I want you. All of you. Every bit.”
“Oh, that sounds like a good idea.”