Chapter 16 #2
I pace toward her, getting right up in her space.
“I don’t give a fuck about the local wildlife.
I’d rather think of the animal you might need to put down if he comes to the cabin.
Without knowing how the gun feels, how to aim and hit what you’re pointing toward, there’s no point in you being armed. ”
Her mouth purses, then she sidesteps away from me and opens a cupboard. “What about these?” She pulls out a tower of plastic cups. “Will these do?”
Of course, they will. It’s a good solution. But I’ll be fucked if I’m going to praise her idea.
My lips purse. “Bottles will be better, but they’ll do.
” Does that look she’s just thrown at me suggest I’m full of shit?
Unfortunately, I think it does. I growl.
“Let’s get outside. Sooner we get started, the sooner we finish.
” Though inwardly I think we’ll be here for hours.
If she couldn’t balance a tray of beers, I doubt she’ll stay steady enough to accurately shoot.
But best I try to teach her, else her clumsiness might mean I catch the bullet she’s aiming at someone else.
I’m grateful for the tightness of the boot around my ankle, even if the excess material rubbing further up my leg is annoying.
I can at least walk across the uneven ground at the back of the cabin.
I’m aiming for a fallen tree trunk I remembered from yesterday.
Glancing around once, I’m satisfied she’s following.
We’re about a hundred yards from the cabin when I stop.
Turning and reaching for the plastic cups she brought out, I take them from her.
I start lining them up on the tree trunk, but a gust of wind blows them over.
A kernel of glee starts to burn inside my chest when, with delight, I realise I’ve got an excuse to return to the original plan.
But she bends down, picks up a cup, finds some stones, puts the makeshift ballast in it, then sets it back up on the trunk. In the next gust it wobbles but doesn’t fall. Encouraged, she continues finding gravel and other shit to anchor eight of the cups.
“Is that enough?”
I grunt. At this rate, I’ll probably find she’s a natural shooter.
Begrudgingly, though, I have to admire how quickly she finds solutions.
But she’s her, and her only saving grace is the million dollars I’ll get when her brother is dead, even though I’ll have to wait another six years to receive it.
For a moment, I slip into a dream world where the woman I’ve married is a well-endowed beauty who worships my cock.
Now that would put a different slant on being secluded in an off-the-grid cabin, with nothing to do but fuck.
“I just shoot?”
I spin around, horrified to find her standing with the Glock held out straight in front of her. At least she’s holding it steady in both hands. It’s loaded, as I remember.
“Wait.”
She turns on her heels, and now the muzzle is pointed straight at me. Hurriedly, I place my hand on the gun, push it down, glare and growl a reminder. “Don’t point it at anything you don’t want to kill.”
One side of her mouth rises. “Who says I wasn’t?”
Well fuck, I guess I’m not growing on her either. The best thing I can do is ignore her comment.
“Stand like this.” Taking my own weapon out of my holster, I demonstrate a strong stance. “Watch me.” Gently, I pull the trigger, and thank fuck, one of those paper cups goes flying. It would have totally sucked had I missed.
She tries to copy me. Before I can stop her, she fires, and a chip of wood flies off a neighbouring tree as the recoil, though not harsh, hits her. Taken by surprise, she falls on her ass. I can’t help it. I laugh.
Placing a hand down to support her, she pushes up and brushes herself off. “There was a squirrel. I thought it might make a change for dinner.”
There was no damn fucking squirrel. And if there was, she’s more likely to coo and admire it. “You eat squirrel?” I challenge. My brows rise.
Her shoulders rise and lower. “First time for everything.” She grins.
And just like that, I’m laughing with her, not at her. Until I realise what I’m doing and frown.
“You’ve got to ground yourself.” I demonstrate a proper stance and wait until she approximates the position I’m showing her.
“Hold your weapon like this.” Again, she tries to copy me.
“Now you felt the recoil, you know you’ve got to be prepared for it.
” She raises and dips her head, then bites her lip.
“Focus on the cup you want to shoot. See that white dot at the front of the barrel? Line it up with the U-shaped sight at the back. When you’re ready, pull the trigger.
Gently until you feel the safety come off, then harder to fire. ”
She does. A leaf higher up wobbles as the bullet goes past it. But at least she stays on her feet.
This is going to take forever. I’m not known for my patience. I’ve got to find another way to teach her.
Moving, I take up a position behind her.
When she startles, I rasp, “I’m going to help you.
” Holstering my own piece, I pull her so her back is against my front and cover her hands.
I kick her feet a little wider to give her a firmer stance.
“Now aim again.” I look over her shoulder and correct her.
“Keep your hands steady. You’ve been shooting high.
When you pull the trigger, don’t jerk it, pull gently.
” The nod of her head causes a strand of her hair to tickle my nose. I try to ignore it. “Take the shot.”
This time, she hits one of the cups. The recoil pushes her ass back into my cock, and I now get a face full of that hair, which smells fucking delicious.
The combination of a female in my arms, the enticing aroma, and the fact that I’ve not been near a pussy in more than forty-eight hours has my cock swelling.
I take a step back so fast, she staggers before righting herself.
“I did it!” she exclaims, pride written all over her face.
Even I can’t deny her this moment. “You did good. Now try again on your own.”
Her face tightens in concentration. She copies everything I’ve just shown her, and fuck me, another cup flies off the trunk. Turning around excitedly, remembering to keep the gun pointed down at the ground, she asks, “Shall I try to get the others?”
Certain it was probably beginner’s luck, I nod. Then, fuck me. She proceeds to shoot all the remaining six cups. She does a happy dance, remembering to keep the Glock facing away from me. She’s a quick learner. I’ll give her that.
“Can we set them up again? I’m having fun.”
What else have we got to do? Calculating the number of bullets she has left, I set up five cups, remembering the ballast. “Let’s make this harder.” At her quirked brow, I explain, “Move back a little further.”
She retreats about six steps. The first bullet misses. A cloud briefly crosses her face, then, with an expression of determination, she lines herself up again, and shoots the next four cups in quick succession. Then looks distraught as only a click comes after she’s pulled the trigger.
“You’re out of ammunition,” I tell her, then taking my own weapon out of my holster, I shoot that last damn cup, just to make it even. Thank fuck I hit it dead centre.
She grins. “Have we got another magazine?”
“Back at the cabin.” Before she asks if we can waste more bullets, when there might come a time we need them, I get in before her. “You’ve done good. Let’s call it a day. We can practice another time.”
“At least I’ll be able to double-tap an enemy,” she tells me, gleefully.
How the fuck does a girl like her know about double tapping?
“Two shots in quick succession for maximum damage,” she elaborates. “Or if I want to go for a professional hit, two in the chest and one in the head, yeah?”
“What the fuck do you know about it?”
“Forensic science.” She shrugs. “I’ve read about it.”
Of course, she has.