Chapter Six
A large black-and-white sign announcing Big Al’s Gun Shop and Firing Range hung above the brick building KC parked in front of.
The place sat wedged between a tattoo parlor and a rundown strip joint.
The area wasn’t much to look at, but ironically, it was one of the safer parts of town—frequented by locals, cops, and military members alike.
You had to be registered to use the range, though each person could bring one adult guest. Uncle Dan and his nephews had kept their access over the years, even after KC and Sean moved away. It made visits like this easier.
They’d spent plenty of time here growing up, competing to outshoot one another. Despite his nephews being younger and more than capable, Dan Malone still won more often than not—a skill forged in the Army and sharpened with time.
Glancing at Maura, KC took in her nervousness. “Are you ready for this?”
She met his eyes and gave a small shrug. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
“I guess we will. Don’t worry. With a little practice, you’ll be shooting like a pro in no time.”
Her doubtful look said she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t argue as she glanced around the parking lot. “I’m not worried about that. But is this place safe?”
Climbing out, he rounded the vehicle and offered her a hand to help her from the low seat. “Trust me, it’s safe.”
As he walked her into the shop, he became aware of her in a way he hadn’t expected. It felt… easy, having her beside him. Familiar. Her light floral scent lingered as they moved, distracting enough that he had to rein in his thoughts.
Not the time. Not the place.
She was running from an abusive ex and carried a gun. He didn’t need to get any more involved than he already was. He’d teach her how to defend herself during the four weeks he was there, enjoy his time off, and then he’d be gone.
He could keep his libido in check for a month.
End of story.
Yeah, right. Keep dreaming,
The inside of Big Al’s was quiet, aside from the muffled pop of gunfire drifting up from the basement range. The scent of gunpowder and oil hung in the air, and KC took a deep breath of the familiar mix.
Al stood behind a locked display case filled with every imaginable type of legal weapon. Shelves behind him were stacked with ammunition and cleaning supplies. He was about six feet tall and pushing three hundred pounds—hence the name—and wore what looked like a permanent scowl.
Maura went rigid and slowed her steps.
KC understood. Al had the kind of face you didn’t want to run into in a dark alley… or anywhere else.
Then the big guy spotted them. His expression broke into a grin, and the transformation was instant. The scowl vanished, his features softening in a way that almost made him look like a different man.
“Hey, KC, my man! I didn’t know you were in town. How’s it hanging?”
Al extended his mitt of a hand to KC, who gave it a hearty shake. “Great, Al. I’m on leave for four weeks. I got in last night. How’ve you been?”
“I’m doing better now that you brought this beautiful lady in to see me.” He waggled his eyebrows at Maura, who visibly relaxed and smiled at the teasing.
KC leaned down, his mouth near her ear, lowering his voice to a stage whisper meant to be overheard. “Gotta be careful around Al. He’s the world’s biggest flirt, and women can’t seem to resist his charm. It’s a wonder his wife, Theresa, hasn’t kicked him out yet.”
Maura laughed softly. “I’ll have to remember that.”
Straightening, KC gestured between them. “Maura, this is Al. Al, this is Maura. She’s renting my uncle’s beach house.”
Al flicked a glance at KC, then back to Maura, surprise flashing across his face. “Really? You must’ve made quite an impression on the old man. Dan doesn’t rent that place out to just anyone.”
Maura’s smile turned a little sassy. “So I’ve heard. It’s nice to meet you, Al.”
“Nice to meet you, too, pretty lady.” He gave her a quick wink. “And for what it’s worth, Theresa knows I’m a flirt—but I’ve never strayed. I’m too smart to mess up a good thing.” He tapped the counter. “Now, what can I do for you today?”
“She needs some range time,” KC said. “Figured I’d bring her in as my guest.”
“No problem.” Al opened a drawer beneath the counter and pulled out a form and a pen. “Just sign the waiver, and you’re good to head downstairs.”
Ten minutes later, Maura stood in a narrow shooting lane, the faint tang of gunpowder and oil clinging to the air.
The low hum of the ventilation system pulled the smoke downrange, but the scent lingered, sharp and familiar.
Her Smith & Wesson 9mm sat on the shelf in front of her, the muzzle pointed down range.
Two men KC didn’t recognize stood at another lane, talking.
He stepped in behind her, leaning in slightly over her right shoulder. “We’ll start at this distance, and as you improve, we’ll move it back, okay?”
“Okay. You’re the boss.”
KC nearly groaned as his body reacted to her nearness. He shifted his stance, putting a little space between them, and forced his focus back where it belonged.
On training. Not her.
“Okay. First things first. Never point a gun at someone you don’t intend to kill.
Unless you’re a sharpshooter with years of experience, it’s only in the movies where you shoot to wound someone.
And firing a warning shot is also Hollywood in action—in the real world, there’s no such thing.
Always keep the gun pointed at the ground unless you’re aiming at a target.
Be aware of who and what is near your target.
It’ll help keep you from accidentally shooting anyone else, but there are no guarantees. ”
He put his right foot between hers and tapped her sneakers. “Move your feet so they’re shoulder-width apart, and put your right foot a little behind your left.”
She followed his instructions. “Like that?”
After assessing her positioning, he nodded.
“Good, just like that. Now, pick up the gun and extend your arms straight out with your right hand around the grip. Your left hand goes around and under your right, supporting it. You want your finger to be out of the trigger guard until you’ve decided to shoot, so you don’t fire the weapon by mistake. Got it?”
“I think so.”
The weapon felt as heavy and foreign in Moriah’s hand as it had the night before.
It had come with the duffel bag full of money, and she’d never fired it—or any gun, for that matter.
Hell, last night was the first time she’d ever pulled it out and pointed it at someone when KC had come through the door unexpectedly.
She’d been so relieved it hadn’t gone off accidentally.
She wasn’t sure she could ever pull the trigger on another person and silently prayed she’d never have to find out. But learning how to use it properly? That was smart. Necessary.
A few cubicles down, the two men who’d been talking when Moriah and KC arrived packed up and left, their voices fading as the door shut behind them.
Up to ten people could shoot at once in the underground, windowless range—but now, they were alone. The enclosed space seemed to close in around them as KC stood behind her inside the narrow cubicle. A shiver slid down her spine, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the gun in her hand… or him.
His presence was solid and steady as he guided her stance and adjusted her aim. The faint scent of spice and salt air clung to him—clean and unmistakably male—and it made her head feel a little too light.
His voice was calm and even as he gave instructions. When his breath brushed the back of her neck, another shudder worked its way through her.
“Are you okay? You’re shivering.”
Moriah didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded instead. She tried to concentrate on his directives, but her mind wandered again. She wondered if her finger had been in the trigger guard when she aimed the gun at KC’s chest the night before.
As if he’d read her mind, he reached out and tapped her right hand. “Last night, your finger was along the side of the gun, as it should have been, but your grip was a little off.”
He pointed to the two small raised pieces with red dots at the top of the gun. “These are your rear sights. You want to line up the small space between them with the front sight and then line that up with where you want to shoot. Okay?”
“I think so.”
“Good. Now, set the gun down on the shelf so you can put your ear and eye protection on, then we'll see what you can do.”
Once they both had their gear on, she picked up the weapon and settled back into position, trying to remember everything he’d said.
He stepped to the side, studying her stance, then moved back in behind her. “Okay, line everything up, slowly squeeze the trigger, and try to hit the bad guy on the target.”
Holding her breath, Moriah did exactly that—until the last second, when she squeezed her eyes shut.
The gun fired with a sharp crack and kicked in her hand, pulling a startled yelp from her. The recoil jolted up her arm, and she nearly dropped the weapon, but recovered quickly, tightening her grip.
Behind her, KC set a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Okay, not bad.”
She searched the target at the far end of the range and then groaned. “But I didn’t even hit the guy, and I closed my eyes.”
His unexpected laugh was low and easy, and it distracted her more than it should have.
Concentrate, you idiot.
“No, you didn’t hit him, but you did hit the paper target within two inches of him.
Not bad for your first time… considering you shut your eyes.
The shot going off is supposed to surprise you, but try not to let the muzzle come up too high.
Don’t jerk the trigger. Take a deep breath, then slowly pull the trigger as you let the air out. And don’t close your eyes this time.”
She lined up the target with the sights again, inhaled deeply, and gradually let the air out of her lungs as she squeezed the trigger. This time, she kept her eyes open, and when the gun discharged, a small hole appeared in the black area at the lower left side of the target.
“I did it!” She bounced on the balls of her feet, still mindful to keep the gun pointed downrange.
He let out a hearty chuckle at her excitement. “You sure did, but you just winged him. Try again. Aim at his chest to stop him. If you have to shoot someone, you want to make sure he’s not getting back up.”
She kept at it, and by the time she’d gone through a full box of ammunition, more of her shots landed in the black than not.
By the end, her arms trembled with fatigue, and that accounted for most of the shots that missed.
Still, pride swelled, pushing aside—if only for a moment—the reason she’d needed to learn how to shoot in the first place.
After ensuring the safety was engaged and the magazine was empty, KC guided her to a small work area outside the range, near the stairs leading back up to the store.
He dropped her borrowed eye and ear protection into the storage bins before turning back to her. As he showed her how to break down the weapon for cleaning and oiling, he praised her. “See, I knew you were a natural.”
Still a little giddy about her success, she glanced up, about to respond with something witty, when his smile faded. Her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
He held two pieces of the dismantled gun, his gaze fixed on her. Hard. Assessing. “Where’d you get this? The serial number’s been filed off.”
Fear surged. She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. The first excuse that came to mind tumbled out. “I… um… stole it from my ex-boyfriend. I swear, I don’t know where he got it, but I took it for protection.”
Her knees shook, and she bit her bottom lip as he continued to stare at her.
Did he know she was lying?
Seconds stretched, tight and suffocating. Then his expression eased, and he gave a short nod. “Okay. I’m not thrilled about that, but I can understand it. Just do me a favor—keep it hidden. And do not, I repeat, do not point it at anyone you don’t intend to shoot.”
Her shoulders loosened, some of the tension slipping away. She managed a small smile, trying to lighten the moment. “Like you?”
He huffed out a breath, a hint of a smile returning. “Yeah. Like me.”