Chapter 6
“First things first, a few things about safety. Never point this at something—or someone— you don’t intend to kill.
” Grant pulled on the barrel, and a sleeve of bullets fell out of the handle of the pistol he’d brought with him.
“This is the clip. You load it like this—he pushed the bullets back into place with a click —“and unload it like this.” He pulled on the barrel again, and the bullets fell out.
“Your turn,” he said, handing Everly the gun.
“I feel like a preschooler learning how to use scissors,” she mumbled as she repeated his motions with fumbling fingers, and the clip clattered to the ground.
“It takes practice,” he reassured her, stooping to retrieve it. “You’ll get quicker over time.”
“Over time? You expect me to do this more than once?” she called after him as he jogged across the clearing, then set up a few soda bottles and tin cans on the straw bales on the other side of the small clearing.
She stood, holding the gun away from her body as if it might bite her, and watched Grant arrange the targets.
Why hadn’t Jeremy ever mentioned his sister’s death?
If she’d died three years ago…Everly did the mental math.
That would have been shortly after they’d arrived in Atlanta.
Grant had a hell of a poker face, because she’d never even suspected something was wrong.
He clearly didn’t want to talk about it, and she wasn’t going to ask.
She, of all people, understood that some stories were just better left untold.
A yawn cracked her jaw. Last night’s nightmare was already fading from memory, but the sight of Grant in his boxer briefs certainly wasn’t. She’d brushed it off, but part of her had ached to melt into him and let her problems fade away for awhile.
Not that he was remotely interested in doing that. He’d laid so far from her, he was practically falling out of the bed. Like Jeremy’s ghost was there, watching him.
Everly shuddered.
Yeah, she needed to get laid, as her body had been reminding her lately, but Grant was not the guy. She could hold out for a few days until she returned to civilization.
Or can you? He strode towards her, relaxed and confident, an easy smile tugging at his lips when he noticed her looking at him.
Her already stuttering heart increased its beat to a hummingbird-like thrum.
All the forbidden thoughts she’d carefully dismissed as pointless fantasies nudged at her, faint but persistent.
She refused to examine them and forced herself to breathe deeply and return his smile.
“You want to lead off?” he asked, coming to stand at her side. He handed her a pair of earplugs, then put some into his own ears.
She took them, then handed him the gun and wiped her palms against her jeans. “Not really,” she admitted. “Can you go first, so I can watch?”
“Sure. Stand over there.” He pointed behind and to the right of himself, and she obediently stepped back.
He raised the gun to shoulder height, his back broad and shoulders strong as he went still and squeezed the trigger.
A crack rang out through the quiet woods, startling a flock of birds from the trees, although the earplugs muffled more sound than Everly had expected.
He fired a few more times, cans flying off of the bales one by one.
“Ready now?” he asked, turning towards her.
She gave him a tight smile. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“This will be fun,” he assured her. Everly arched a brow, but took the gun when he offered it and stepped into position. She tried to aim as he had done, to hold the pistol steady, but her hands betrayed her, the first shot going embarrassingly wide.
“So much for beginner’s luck, huh?” she snorted.
“Everybody starts somewhere. Even Chilstrom had a Day One, though he’d probably deny it if you asked,” he said, naming STAG’s top sniper. He patted her shoulder. “Just get a feel for it and then we’ll worry about hitting the target.”
She fired again. Straw flew out in a violent puff as the second bullet landed squarely in the middle of a bale. Her cheeks burned.
“Here—like this.”
Grant stepped in behind her, his chest brushing her back as he reached around and gently adjusted her grip. His hands moved over hers, steady and sure, until she held the gun the way he’d shown her.
“Keep both eyes open,” he murmured next to her. “Focus on what you want to hit.”
His breath skimmed across the sensitive skin below her ear, and whatever he’d just said scattered from her mind like leaves in the wind.
Her nipples immediately pebbled underneath her sweatshirt, and in response, warmth unfurled in her core. She shifted on her feet, trying to ease it. “Steady,” Grant said, settling his hands on her hips.
Nerves gave way to something else just as intense, but far more distracting. Everly forced herself to focus, to look at the tin can that was her target, to ignore the warmth of his breath on her jaw and the way his fingers curled above the waistband of her jeans.
Steady, girl.
She pulled the trigger again, and the bullet grazed the can with a clang. She let out a whoop, then fired off three more shots, nicking each target and finally knocking the last one off of the bale.
“See? Just needed a little practice,” he said from behind her.
They kept going, Grant adjusting her grip now and then, murmuring quiet instructions against her ear. With each shot, her nerves settled, her hands steadied. The cans danced, tipped, and sometimes were missed entirely, but less and less. She was getting the hang of it.
“Hell of a shot!” he exclaimed as another one flew off the bale.
She shot him a grin over her shoulder that was genuine this time.
His hands still lingered on her hips, warming her skin even through her clothing.
She imagined those hands slipping under her shirt, caressing her stomach and then traveling higher, and her breath quickened.
If she asked, would he take her up on her offer?
“Everly?” Grant’s voice cut through the fog of desire clouding her brain.
“Hmm?” She hadn’t heard a word he’d said.
He frowned and dropped his hands. “Did those earplugs work? Your ears aren’t ringing, are they?” She shook her head no , and he continued. “I said we’ll need to head back in a bit. Storm’s rolling in.”
Just as he spoke, wind gusted through the clearing, bringing the unmistakable smell of rain with it. Everly followed his gaze skyward and saw heavy gray clouds gathering on the horizon. “Think we have time for one more round?”
“Sure, I’ll set up the targets one more time. You’re doing great!” he hollered as he started across the clearing.
She waited until he was behind her again –hands to himself this time, much to her disappointment — then raised the gun and fired. More cans flew, the acrid odor of gunpowder hanging around her in a cloud.
“You were right, this isn’t as scary as I thought,” Everly admitted. “I feel like I could do this all day–”
A fat raindrop splashed her right in the face.
“Looks like Mother Nature has other plans. We better head back.” Grant shouldered the backpack he’d dropped in the grass, and Everly helped pack the few things they’d brought while he holstered the gun.
Thunder rolled over the mountains like artillery fire, following them out of the clearing as they headed into the woods. Everly ducked under a low branch, brushing rain off her forehead. “So far, this isn’t terrible.”
“Give it a minute,” Grant said dryly. “Mountain weather’s got a mean streak.”
They were halfway down the trail when the drizzle escalated into chaos. Without warning, the sky cracked open, dumping water in sheets so thick Everly could barely see the trail ahead.
Grant reached through the rain for her hand. “Stay with me. Trail gets slick fast.” She gripped his hand, stumbling after him as rain turned the trail into a river of mud and debris.
Her hair slipped loose from its ponytail and whipped across her face, caught by the wind.
At the same time, the ground sloped sharply downward, and her foot snagged on a leaf-covered root.
Their hands wrenched apart as she stumbled with a yelp, arms flailing, but Grant was already there.
One strong arm caught her around the waist.
“I’ve got you,” he said against her ear. Without missing a beat, he swept her clean off the ground and tossed her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.
“Grant!” she squealed, laughing in spite of herself, her breath stolen by the sudden movement and the pressure of his shoulder. “Put me down!” She half-heartedly pounded against his back to no avail.
“Consider this an emergency evac,” he called over the storm, his voice warm with amusement.
His hand curled securely around the back of her thigh as he took off down the path, mud squelching under his boots.
“You slip once and I take no chances. You’re mission-essential. Can’t have you twisting an ankle.”
She gave in and clung to him, half-laughing, half-stunned, as the trees blurred past. Rain soaked her through, dripping down her nose and even from her lashes, but she barely noticed.
All she could register was the steady strength of him, the rhythm of his steps, and the heat of his body even through their wet clothes.
By the time they neared the cabin–she could tell they were close when the leaves and mud turned to mowed grass–her heart was thundering louder than the sky.
Grant carried her through the yard, then threw open the screened porch door and lowered Everly to her feet at last. She sagged against the wall of the house to catch her breath, and then laughed as she caught sight of Grant, hair plastered to his head and his entire body dripping water onto the floor.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, a half smile forming on his face.
“You’re absolutely soaked,” she laughed, still breathless as the blood rushed from her head. “You look like you fell down a well or something. I’m sure I look just as bad.”