Chapter 24 Target Practice #2
Anika propped her hands on her hips. “And you aren’t, pretty boy?” The last words were supposed to be an insult, but as soon as they left her mouth, they felt different.
His brow cocked, noticing it too. “A man can’t give up all his secrets now, can he?”
“What about the secrets concerning stolen items,” she said, “from inside my house?”
“You really must have the wrong guy, Anika, because I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The smug grin on his face said otherwise and she thought about pistol whipping it off his face. “Sounds like something you should talk to the police about, not me.”
“As if you don’t pay all their salaries.”
His hand landed on his chest in faux hurt, “I work hard to keep this city safe. Is that such a crime?”
“It’s not safe enough apparently.”
“A few missing items is hardly something to be concerned about, little moon.” Anika’s jaw clenched at the nickname as he continued. “I never would’ve guessed you to be someone who accused others so freely, no evidence in sight—”
“And I didn’t peg you for an early riser,” a glance at the clock caged up on the wall read close to seven in the morning, “I imagined you as more of a sleep in, be lazy and annoying to all your friends kinda guy.”
“While I’m flattered you even imagined me”—she scowled—“I value my quiet time, usually in the mornings.”
“First of all, shooting isn’t exactly a quiet sport,” Anika muttered, cocking her hip out. “And second, at this exact range?”
“Looks like it.”
She refused to believe he had randomly bumped into her. This range was one she’d been coming to for weeks and there’d been no sign of him. Neither of his residences were close to here either.
Why?
She had a feeling she already knew the answer; he was investigating her like she was him.
Anika sighed. She conveyed annoyance, which was partly an act—fuel to make him stay and push—but part of it was real. Covering herself with control and the upper ground was what she did best. This…
This was seceding, giving in to tempt him to come closer. A soft smile was itching to show itself, but she resisted, needing to feign exasperation to spite him. Instead, she decided to push a little bit. “Seems like fate is telling me to ask you to be my teacher then, huh?”
She didn’t miss the flicker of surprise in his eyes as they widened slightly before settling back to mischief.
“I’d hate to intrude like that,” a lie most likely, “especially since apparently this is your gun range,” he said to mock her questions from earlier.
“Don’t tell me a big wig like you is nervous, Romanov.” A taunt.
A vein in his neck twitched at the use of his last name, but he bit at the metaphorical lure regardless. “Charity work hardly makes me nervous.”
Heat flared in her chest as she tapped her fingertips on her hip and counted out the seconds she required to reign in her ire.
Mikko noticed.
Before she could change her mind, she stepped aside and gestured for him to come closer.
Bending to retrieve his bag from where he dropped it, she unabashedly watched him. He didn’t look like he belonged here, instead, his physique boasted mornings and nights at the gym, yet…
“Eyes on the range,” he said, catching her stare before moving into her space. “Distractions leave room for mistakes.”
“‘Distraction’ wasn’t the word I was think—”
“Bring the target closer,” he interrupted with a smile, slipping eye protection on.
Anika pursed her lips, but did as he asked. She pressed the button on the side, a mechanical whirring audible as the large sheet of paper came closer. The automated track had the target fluttering in the wind as it neared her station.
As soon as it was close enough to grab, Anika released the button and let it settle. Mikko’s observant eyes combed over the lines of the silhouette, noting the holes she’d riddled it with.
Most were concentrated in the chest, the larger surface area appealing to most since it made it easier to hit the target, especially if they were moving and unpredictable. A few littered around the outline of the head, but too many were scattered outside the thick black outline.
Imperfections. Miscalculations.
“Better than I would’ve anticipated for an accountant,” Mikko quipped before ripping the paper down.
“I’m not an accountant, I’m a financial data analyst.”
“Right.” He drew out the word as if accepting her response for her own benefit. As if there wasn’t a difference. Maybe to him there wasn’t, but it irked her that he didn’t believe her rebuttal.
I should use this twat as a target.
A disgusted huff left Anika’s lips as she hung up a new paper target. Once it was securely in the clips, he nodded for her to send it back out. “Put it out at about fifteen yards.”
Again, she did as she was told. A rarity Mikko didn’t even know he was in the presence of. Once it had settled, she glanced over at him as if to say, “now what?”
“Now do what you would do if I wasn’t here.”
“Why?”
“I want to see your technique.”
“And I want you gone.” A lie, but she said it anyway.
“Consider this payback for interrupting my night all those weeks ago at the club,” he murmured, coming in so close that his mouth was near the outer shell of her ear protection. It was way too hot and way too small in this shooting booth for this. Anika froze.
“I can think of other ways to repay that debt,” she retorted, hating the way her voice was breathier than before.
“Oh, really? Like what?” Mikko’s hands came up and turned her toward the target out in front of them.
They were warm and gentle despite the verbal battle, and she hated that the sensation was one she could get used to.
It was reckless and electric compared to Levi’s touch.
With him, she went through the motions and pushed him out the door at her earliest convenience.
But with Mikko, she didn’t want it to stop.
Warmth crept up the base of her spine, her skin tingling with his closeness.
“Like filling you with a few rounds of lead,” she finally said.
If he responded, she didn’t give him any space to.
Picking up her gun, she resumed her shooting position—shoulder width stance, locked elbows, fingers tight around the grip of the firearm yet still clear of the slide, and a fingertip resting on the curve of the trigger.
Bang!
The paper didn’t even shiver at the intrusion, the bullet tearing through it with no resistance.
Heat and hard muscle brushed against her back, his distracting hands repositioning her arms. “You’re lucky I like threats”—his boots nudged her feet into a better position—“and charity cases.” Again with that fucking word. “But you’re going to have to do better than that to fulfill your promise.”
Anika’s spine stiffened. She knew he meant the words that he’d spoken, but her mind couldn’t help but wander to another promise lingering in her mind; one she’d vowed to herself and her mom all those years ago.
“I don’t want to show off,” she gritted out.
“Of course, my bad for assuming you chose to be a bad shot.” His fingertips pressed firmly between her shoulder blades, the pinpointed warmth almost causing her to shiver.
“Shoulders back,” he instructed. His hand moved down, skating over her ribs until his hand splayed over her stomach.
“And don’t forget to keep your core tight.
” He tapped her one, two, three, four times until she did as he said.
Each place his hands stopped, Mikko corrected something as if he were rearranging a doll. And the only reason she let him, even as fury and something more sinister lurked beneath the surface of her skin, was because she’d need these skills one day.
“I do better with a live target,” she muttered, afraid to move and mess up her posture. Anika was certain he’d touch her all over again to make sure she was exactly where she needed to be, and she wasn’t sure she could handle that right now.
Mikko snorted, hands finally coming to rest near hers on the gun. “Doubtful.”
“Are you going to fess up to stealing my scarf?”
His chuckle reverberated against her back as his finger trailed over the side of her hip. “Are you going to fess up to stealing my car keys?”
Anika’s mouth popped open, a motion Mikko clearly saw.
“Oh, now you have nothing to say,” he commented. “Funny since those same keys wound up in a dead man’s body…”
“While I’m flattered you think I’m smart enough to keep up with your delusions, you’re going to have to forgive me when I say I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Playing dumb isn’t your thing,” he crooned near her temple, mocking the words she’d typed up to him in text a couple nights ago, “but I’ll bite. One of my men ended up dead with my spare keys inside of his body inside one of my warehouses.”
“Real estate can be dangerous, sounds like a you problem,” she said, burning eyes still focused on the target ahead, her arms growing heavy.
“I’d agree,” he readjusted her arms since they’d fallen, “but I find it funny that the warehouse he was found in was the same one you toured.”
Bang!
In an attempt to shift the conversation, to gain her own control back, Anika fired off a round. It missed the target completely.
“That was a shit shot, Anika.” His hands settled on her hips, turning them so she was square. The heat of his fingers seared through her clothes. “Want to try again? Or should we bring the target closer…say about the same distance as Ivan was to you that night?”
Anika prayed he couldn’t hear or feel the rate of her pulse.
“You’re absurd. I didn’t know touring Romanov properties would get you implemented into crimes,” Anika retorted.
“Only when the client lies about the use of the warehouse.”
“Are you saying my leather goods business is a lie?”
“I’m saying I didn’t see any leather goods in your home when I visited the other night.”
A chill shot up her spine, the sensation unbearable. She couldn’t stifle it, letting it roll through her body as he chuckled in triumph near her head.