Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
She looked at the target, her breath coming out as vapor. “Won’t someone hear us?”
“Probably.”
She stared at me but didn’t question me further.
“Aim.”
She grabbed the gun with two hands, one hand supporting the other, and stared at the target that was at least thirty feet away.
Her stance wasn’t perfect, but she wasn’t training to be a soldier or combat operative. She just needed to shoot someone if the situation ever arose.
“Fire.” I checked to see if she remembered the safety.
She squeezed the trigger, and nothing happened.
“The safety is the most important part of the gun. Always know when it’s on and off.”
She looked at the gun and clicked the button before she aimed again. She went still with focus and then fired, the gun kicking back and knocking her off-balance for just a second. The bullet hit the target, at the very edge.
“Not bad, sweetheart.” I came up behind her and helped her get into position. “Use the nose of the gun to aim. Line it up with the center. Keep your strong foot back and tighten your core for the kickback.” I stepped back. “Try again.”
She aimed for the center, fired, and her body barely moved with the kickback.
I remembered when my father had taught me how to shoot. Not a memory I recalled fondly. Anytime I messed up, he didn’t hesitate to say how weak and stupid I was. Now, I felt like a father myself, protecting the person who mattered most to me.
Did I ever matter to him?
She nearly hit the center of the target, so she fired a couple more times, trying to best herself. Then the gun made a clicking sound because she ran out of bullets.
“Reload.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a handful of bullets.
She grabbed them then inserted each one into the empty clip before she slid it into place.
She already looked like a pro. “Good job, sweetheart.” I pulled out the pistol tucked into the back of my jeans and held out my palm to her, seeing if she’d put on the safety before handing the Glock back to me.
She did then placed it in my palm.
I grinned. “Attagirl.” I was far prouder of her than my father had ever been of me.
She took the pistol, turned off the safety, and got into position again. She fired, her bullets hitting the same places as before. The gun had slightly more firepower than the Glock, but she handled it.
When she ran out of bullets, she turned on the safety and handed it to me.
I put both guns on the table then grabbed the shotgun. “This is what I use when I wanna blow heads off.”
Her eyes widened noticeably at my honesty.
“Hold it like this.” I showed her how to handle it before I handed it over. “It’s heavy.”
She took it without complaint, but it was obvious it was heavier than she was used to holding.
“Hold the butt of the gun to your shoulder.” I placed my hand over my shoulder so she could see where it should sit. “When it kicks back, it’s gonna hurt.” I tapped the top of the gun. “This is where you line up the shot, but you shouldn’t have to aim if you’re that close.” I moved us toward the target, bringing her fifteen feet closer to the target. “Aim and fire.”
She put the gun into position, the butt of the gun against her shoulder like I taught her, and then she fired. She clearly didn’t expect the force of the kick because she took a couple steps back in surprise. But she’d hit the target.
“Again.”
She cocked the gun and fired, blowing off half the sign.
I beamed in pride. “Reload.”
She opened the barrel like I’d taught her, took the bullets from me, and reloaded the gun before she cocked it back into place.
“Alright, time for the rifle.”
She clicked the safety before she handed the shotgun to me.
“This is heavy too.” I handed it off, and she held it like she’d seen enough American action movies to know how it should be handled. Without waiting for me to fire, she directed her gun toward the targets and sprayed them with bullets, left to right, denting the steel fence with all the ammunition.
She fired until the magazine was empty. “Ooh, I like this one.”
I smirked then handed her another magazine.
She reloaded effortlessly then clicked the safety before she handed the gun to me.
“That’s my girl.” I pulled her in for a quick kiss then gave her a playful smack on the ass. “Alright, now I’m going to teach you a couple maneuvers.”
“Like, fighting?” she asked.
“More like self-defense.”
All the excitement she’d shown a second ago disappeared. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
I stared her down and let my confidence comfort her. “No. You’ll probably never need any of this, but I would be an asshole if I didn’t teach my woman this stuff when I had the chance. There may come a time when I have to fight and you need to run, and I want to know you can get away if you need to.”