Chapter 5
Chapter Five
“To figure out the way to break killers, you just have to understand their weakness. Everyone has a weakness, after all. The best profilers—and agents—know how to exploit weaknesses.” – Gray Stone, from an undated lecture to FBI recruits at Quantico
One week since Briar…
“Aim and shoot.”
Emerson raised her brows at Gray. “Thank you,” she said barely containing an eye roll. “I had no idea what I should do here at the shooting gallery.”
“Smartass, why don’t you just focus on hitting the targets?”
She could feel eyes on them. Far too many eyes. “I know how to shoot.”
“Great. You’ll prove that to me right now.”
They’d been back in Atlanta for two days. They’d stayed in Briar—at a new motel—for a time in order to make certain the case against Jake Waller was air tight.
Gray had sprung this practice routine on her with zero warning when she’d walked into the FBI office that morning. She’d already checked the weapon. The target waited. But she didn’t put on her ear protection and get into firing position. Not yet. “What’s the purpose of this little exercise?”
“To make sure that you can shoot.”
“Smartass,” she returned without missing a beat.
From nearby, Emerson was pretty sure she heard a snort from another agent.
Gray put his hands on his hips. “Fine. The purpose is to make sure that when we enter dangerous situations, I know that I can trust you to cover me.”
“You think I can’t handle myself?” Now that was insulting.
“I think you skipped out on a whole lot of training, freelance consultant. ”
Someone was certainly in a mood. But, actually, Gray had been in a mood since the motel break-in at Briar. Cold, distant, fully activated asshole mode. Uh, mood . Or maybe mode, too. Whatever.
“Before we go into the field again,” his take-no-shit voice told her, “I want to make certain all the basics are covered with you.”
Oh, he did? “If I prove that I’m a stellar shot, does that mean I get to start carrying my own weapon in the field? Because, otherwise, this whole exercise is pointless.” She wanted a gun. Either he gave her one or she’d just bring her own gun that she normally kept locked securely at home.
“Put six bullets in the heart and two in the head, and you can carry your own weapon in the field.”
The agent nearby wasn’t laughing any longer. He sidled a bit closer even as he cleared his throat. “Uh, jeez, maybe make it easier, boss.”
“Maybe mind your own business, Rylan. Now. ”
“Minding my own business, sir, yes, sir.” Rylan Tate rushed back.
Emerson tested the weight of the weapon in her hand. “You don’t have to bite off anyone’s head.”
“I wasn’t biting?—”
“If you’re angry with me about something, just say it.
” She was dying for the man to say something.
An icy wall had been built between them.
Was it because of what had almost happened in her motel room between them?
Or because of her oversharing about her dad?
A cold lump formed in her gut because she feared that he didn’t think she was capable of handling the job.
Not anymore. A ticking time bomb. “You’re wrong if you think I can’t handle myself. ”
“Six in the heart. Two in the head.”
She put down the gun. Grabbed her ear protection. She already had on protective glasses. Standard equipment at the shooting range. “How about give me a little space?”
He backed away. Put on ear protection.
She didn’t bother glancing at the agents who’d all gathered to watch. Emerson knew she was the show they’d come to see. The consultant, having to prove she could handle the job.
Her breath expelled slowly. She’d been at this shooting range before. When she’d first gotten the position as consultant. She’d been out there with various supervisors, and she’d demonstrated that she certainly knew how to handle a weapon.
But, um, there had not been a requirement for six in the heart. Two in the head. Not when she’d fired at the target before.
She picked up her weapon. Shifted her stance.
Gray didn’t understand her at all. Or her mother.
Because Emerson’s mother had been in politics for a very long time.
But Maxine Marlowe had also come from an extremely wealthy family, one that kept guards close at all times.
Emerson’s mother had made sure that her daughter was always surrounded by protection when she’d been growing up.
And perhaps Emerson had convinced some of those guards to give her shooting lessons. A lot of lessons.
She stared at her target.
Six to the heart. Two to the head. Sure, she could do this. Hopefully.
She fired.
And when she pulled off her ear protection a few moments later, the applause had already started.
“Nailed it!” Rylan called out even as he pushed the button to bring her target forward for all to see.
As that target surged toward her, almost seeming to fly, Emerson could see that she had, indeed, hit her marks.
Sure, one hole on the heart was a little close to the left side, but it had still fallen within the designated area. She’d done it.
Six to the heart. Two to the head.
“Happy now?” Emerson demanded as she whirled toward Gray.
“That’s not the right word.” His expression was inscrutable. Typical Gray.
Other agents called out their congratulations. He, however, did not.
“I think you’re gonna have to marry me,” Rylan announced.
Emerson jerked in surprise. Her body swung toward him.
Rylan—handsome, with close-cropped, blond hair and warm brown eyes that always seemed amused—grinned at her. “With shooting like that, you need to marry?—”
“No,” Gray broke through his words. “She does not need to marry you. Not in any universe. And don’t you have some actual work you need to do?”
Rylan shrugged. Mischief danced in his eyes. “You think that you can do better on the target, Agent Stone? I mean, Emerson here just proved herself. You think you still got what it takes to nail a target like she just did?”
At least six agents inched closer.
Emerson could not help herself. She put the gun down. Motioned toward Gray. “Six in the heart. Two in the head.” A deliberate challenge.
Without another word, Gray took up a firing position. Not in the lane she’d just used, but to the right. “Set it up!” he shouted.
And the lane was set up. He checked his gun. Nodded.
He fired until the weapon was empty.
More than eight shots.
Rylan pushed the button for the target to advance toward them.
There was no applause. There was just dead silence. Sort of a stunned silence.
All of the holes were tight and close—basically on top of each other—right on the heart. And in the head. Tight. Close. Accurate. Deadly.
“Want to marry me, too?” Gray asked blandly.
“Uh, no, thanks,” Rylan returned as he backed away and put his hands up. “I’m good.”
One week and two days since Briar…
“We’re sparring?” Emerson crept forward in her sneakers. She’d made sure to change into running shorts and a t-shirt after getting the text from Gray saying they were meeting to workout. At five a.m. “I thought we were going for a run.”
His gaze swept over her body. “That explains the shorts.” His stare lifted. Pinned her. “Self-defense practice. That’s why I asked you to meet me in the training room.”
“Five o’clock in the morning.” She nodded. “For self-defense. Sure, why not?” Emerson squared her shoulders even as she edged closer to the mat that waited for her.
Gray stood in the middle of that blue mat. “Didn’t want us to be disturbed by any of the other agents. As it is, Rylan follows you around like a lost puppy.”
Uh, he did not. “Be careful, you sound jealous.”
“Is that what you want me to be?”
She stilled. Totally stopped her creeping-forward movement. Because this was as close to a personal conversation as they’d come since Briar.
“I’m not jealous.” He rolled his neck. “Not my business at all who you fuck.”
Emerson blinked. “Then why are we having this fun pep talk?”
He growled.
Don’t find the sound sexy. Do not. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.
” Now she advanced fully onto the mat. Stopped about a foot from him.
Maybe she should have taken off her sneakers.
He’d taken off his. Oh, well. Too late. Too late to ditch the shoes and too late to call back the words she’d already spoken.
“Did you decide you want us to be more than partners?”
His nostrils flared. “How much self-defense do you know?”
A lot. Instead of answering, she shrugged. Yes, she was feeling difficult.
A muscle flexed along his jaw. “I want you to get out of some basic holds. Don’t worry about hurting me. You can’t.”
“Never thought I could, not for a second.” She sent him a hard smile. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“The hell I have. I’ve been with you in every briefing session and every case update.”
“Fine, you have been avoiding having private talks with me and you have?—”
He had her ass on the mat. He’d taken her down, and he covered her. “You saw me coming, yet you did nothing to stop my attack.”
She stared up at him. One of his legs was between hers.
That rich scent of his teased her nose. Gray wore black sweats.
A tight black t-shirt. He looked so freaking sexy.
She had seen him coming, obviously, but she hadn’t, uh, responded.
Probably because she’d been trying to ignore how sexy he was in the black t-shirt. “You usually wear suits,” she blurted.
“Not to sparring sessions.”
Of course. Obviously.
“If I were a real attacker, you’d be dead, Emerson.”
If you were a real attacker, I wouldn’t be lusting after you. “Are you afraid of me?” she asked, bluntly.
He blinked, jerked back, and, using that moment of surprise, she shoved up with her arms, twisted, and flipped Gray over so that when their bodies stopped heaving about, she was on top of him. On top as in, she straddled him.
It took exactly two seconds for her to realize that position was a serious mistake. She flew off him. Took a couple of quick steps away from Gray.