5. Killian
KILLIAN
The next date is to the shooting range in the basement of my main headquarters in London.
The women are mostly in less formal dresses than last time, and I’m in my customary dark-grey suit rather than a dinner jacket.
Avery tries to stay at the back of the crowd, but I see her anyway.
My eyes are drawn to her as my mother explains the rules.
It’s been a long week. There was some stalking involved.
I discovered that Avery likes her coffee milky, chocolate pastries, and French fries with ketchup. It’s a good thing I’ve seen her since last time, because it means I can just about keep my growing obsession in check when she knows I’m watching her.
“This is a shooting competition. There will be four teams. Ring, Shamrock, Key, and Champagne. You’ve been allocated at random. Team Ring…” She rattles out names for each.
Avery is wearing the dress I had delivered to her.
It’s a flowing dress which is snug enough over her top half to be both practical for shooting and very flattering.
The leather boots finish the outfit perfectly, and her hair is loose around her shoulders.
She looks perfectly edible, and her wearing the dress I gave her has a possessive monster in my chest purring.
Avery has been put with several of the more nervous women in team Key. They congregate together in their groups, and I stand back, my arms crossed. I have plans to unhinge this already brutal little event.
“Whichever group has the highest overall score gets to have a seven-course dinner with Killian.” My mother smiles smugly, and I tighten my lips over my teeth in response. “Cooked by our own chefs, upstairs in our dining room.”
A low moan echoes through the walls and into the momentary silence. Eyes go wide. Several of the women glance around warily.
Avery’s brow furrows, but she remains still and calm where a ripple of discontent goes through the rest.
“Go on then,” I tip my chin when none of them move, ignoring the sound of Liam torturing someone only next door.
There are four tables set up, one for each team, with guns and ammunition and one of my men to guide and monitor.
At the far end of the range are full-height paper targets.
No avoiding what this is with obscure images, they’re colour photos of men, staring back at you.
There are bull’s-eye concentric circles on their chests.
The women form groups behind each table, there’s a murmur of nerves as the first woman gets her chance to practice. I watch from the side lines as the girls take it in turns to try to shoot the target.
There are varying degrees of comfort in the women. Some have clearly used weapons before, and others are scared just to hold the cool metal.
I do my best to keep attention on all the groups equally, but the girl currently shooting for team Key draws my gaze.
Avery is behind her, which is the first point of interest, but the other is that she’s reluctant. She takes the gun from my man allocated to the team—Shane—with a look of distaste, and goes almost green as she turns and raises it towards the target.
Glancing along the row of women, I consider. The one thing that will make this dinner bearable will be Avery with me. That means her team needs to win, and right now, their practice is going badly.
A scream emits from the dungeon that is only a few doors down the corridor, and nearly everyone looks up, some towards the source of the noise.
Avery looks at me. Calm. Aware.
“Apologies about the noise, ladies,” I say comfortingly.
I thought leaving Liam with a man to torture would be a good way of having some women self-select out of the competition.
I didn’t realise it would affect Avery being at dinner.
She needs to win. “This is an old building, even if this—” I indicate the large shooting range room built of concrete.
“Is a recent addition. The basement dates back to the 1700s.”
“A ghost?” squawks one to the younger women.
“There are other rooms. And there’s a guest with us at the moment,” I reply.
The girl in team Key and in front of Avery shakes and drops the gun, which clatters to the solid floor, and covers her face. “I’m sorry!” she cries as she runs for the door. “I can’t do this!”
Feck. I sigh and indicate for Shane to go after her, and stride to retrieve the weapon, making it safe. But at least this has an advantage I hadn’t considered.
Then I turn to Avery and beckon her forwards with one finger.
She’s trembling a bit as I show her the gun.
Putting it into her hands, our fingers brush, and the awareness thrums through both of us.
Her chin snaps up, and her dark-brown eyes drink me in, trusting.
I guide her, helping her aim at the target.
It’s the ideal excuse to be close, every part of me sensitised and aware as I coach her through each movement, making my voice calm.
She’s the perfect student, but I am far from the perfect tutor.
When her finger is on the trigger, and I instruct her to slowly breathe out then squeeze, I want to protect her.
From the kick, even though it’s only a handgun.
From myself. And yet, when she hits the target, pride swells in me.
My cock responds to her proximity as my gaze lowers to her tits as she aims for the next shot.
“In your own time,” I reassure her as she takes a shaky breath, tearing my eyes from her sweet body. This is filthy. She’s young. She’s my employee.
And I don’t care at all.
She’s mine.
There’s a screech and a bang almost simultaneously, and I grit my teeth.
Avery lets out a whimper as she sets down the gun, tugging off her ear protection. “I missed.”
“Only because of the distraction. It’s usually good practice for experts to work with noise, which is why I haven’t sound-proofed.” I don’t look away from Avery. “Shane.”
“Yes, Kill,” he replies promptly, having discreetly remained behind after returning from taking the other girl out.
“Go tell Liam to keep the noise down.” If it’s affecting Avery, it stops.
Shane shakes his head and stomps off.
“It’s well insulated upstairs,” I comment to the otherwise silent room as I scan across the women at the shooting gallery. My mam glares at me and I return a cool look.
“Take another shot,” I murmur to Avery.
Her breathing is fast as she nods, and does as I showed her.
“That’s it. Smoothly.” I touch between her shoulders and nudge her forwards.
“Don’t lean back. Keep a strong stance.” Nearby, three of my men are talking the other girls through the process, and I know my parents are watching.
But with my hand on Avery’s back, the soft cotton of her dress covering the warmth of her skin, it might as well just be the two of us on the moon.
She hits right in the centre of the target, and I can’t restrain my proud smile, and Avery’s eyes are shining as she looks over at me, as delighted as I am.
“Liam says he’ll keep it down, Kill.” Shane’s unwelcome interruption cuts in.
I nod and step away, joining my parents at the back of the room, and watch while making a token effort to not appear as though I’m focused on Avery. My dad starts a commentary on technique that doesn’t require more than murmurs of agreement from me.
Then the practice is over, and the first four women step up to shoot for the competition.
“Jemma is good,” my mam says after a moment.
“Mmm.” I have no idea which she is.
“And Katy is very pretty. She’d be a solid alliance.”
“Yeah.” This isn’t bringing me closer to Avery falling in love. I check her out of the corner of my eye. She’s next for team Key.
There’s another wail. Several of the girls jump, and Avery winces. The two shooting miss the targets, and as I see Shane take the gun from the girl at his table, I curse.
There is one way to have this be bearable, and it’s with Avery.
I storm out of the room, and slam the door behind me. Two corridors, and I reach the room Liam is using, and don’t pause before barging in.
“Kill.” Liam greets me as he sees me. The man seated and bleeding is gagged with tape.
“I’m sorry he’s being too loud, I thought…”
I shake my head, grab up the closest knife from the table, and don’t hear what else Liam has to say. The man’s eyes show a flare of terror. From the side, I flick the knife easily over his throat. Blood arcs out. I don’t pause to look.
“I thought I’d get more from him,” Liam says a bit sadly as I reach the door.
“You’re going soft,” I reply, but with sympathy rather than anger. “It’s been over a week. He just wanted to live. Come to my office tomorrow and we’ll see about getting you an apprentice.”
Liam’s chin comes up, and though he hides it, it’s obvious he’s overjoyed. “Yes, Kill.”
He needs some company.
And as I return to the competition, I reflect that maybe I do too, and my gaze snaps to Avery, who gives me a tight smile and understanding crackles between us.
Folding my arms, I stand next to my mam, irritation filling me that she might have been right. Like Liam, I need someone in my life. Though perhaps not as a partner in murder.
Specifically, I need Avery.
“Who’s winning?” I ask after a moment.
“Team Ring is in the lead.”
I narrow my eyes. “Remind me how the scoring works.”
“It’s on the number of bullseyes hit by the whole team.” My mother smirks.
“Well, since team Key has lost a member, I’ll shoot for her.” In just a few steps, I’ve taken the pistol from Avery’s shaking hands, reloaded, and aimed. Six shots ring out. Every single one a bullseye.
“There you go. Gives you a fighting chance.”
I see the other girls doing mental arithmetic as the last set of girls get into their places.
“She needs one bullseye to beat team Key,” I state, and stroll deliberately to Ring’s table, where the final girl is waiting.
“Hi!” she chirps, obviously nervous.
I stand behind her, arms crossed. And I like that although I’m technically being present and engaged and perhaps even supportive, this girl can feel my presence in exactly the way I intend it.
As a hulking, malevolent darkness. Her breath is shaky.
“Deep breaths,” I say insincerely. “I can’t help you. Hit the target, and you’ll have your team celebrating. I’ll give you dinner at the most exclusive, delicious venue in London. But if you miss…” I leave it dangling.
The twitch of her lips isn’t quite a smile. Fearful.
I wait.
I’m a menacing presence, so I’m told.
The shot rings out.
I tilt my head. “Bad luck. Well done team Key.”
“That’s not fair! You had him on your team!” protests a blonde in an impeccable dress and hair so perfect it must be made of plastic.
I’m millimetres from this little madam in two sharp strides. “You want to know about fair?” I growl. “This is my kingdom. I say what’s fair. My word is the law, and if you don’t like that, you can leave.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right! I just meant that I wanted to be on the winning team!” she babbles, a bit pathetically.
I step back, out of her space. No need to scare her too much. She’s probably under orders from her father to ensure she marries me. It would be a status improvement for his mafia.
My gaze meets Avery’s. Her eyes are wild.
“Time for dinner.” And Avery is the meal I want to eat.