Under the Gun

Another sexy half smile. Another glinting tweak in those bedroomy, cobalt eyes. “You should be wearing safety goggles.”

 

 

“Right.” I masked my juvenile need to giggle uncontrollably. “Safety first.”

 

I felt Alex gently push his leg in between mine and I widened my stance.

 

“Both hands,” Alex said. “Arms up.”

 

I did as I was told, snaking my other hand over Alex’s piece. It felt heavy in my hands but alive, electric.

 

“I forgot how much I missed this. I was really scared the first time but now—”

 

“Shhh.” Alex’s hands trailed down my arms until his were outstretched, too, his hands clasped over mine. “You’re a natural. Remember what we talked about. Slow . . .”

 

“No jerking.”

 

“Right. Give it a gentle squeeze.”

 

Alex must have sensed my anxiety because he squeezed my hands and whispered, “Gentle,” in my ear. It sent shivers down my spine.

 

“Okay.” I felt the weight in my hands. I felt his hands, warm, on mine. I squeezed—gently, slowly.

 

This was going to be okay.

 

I was going to be good at this.

 

It seemed to fire in waves. Molten sparks that shot through my body. There was moaning. There was screaming.

 

There was me, huddled on the ground, crying. “Aughhhh,” I wailed. “I can’t do this! I suck!”

 

Alex crouched down in front of me, his smile so wide it pushed up to his earlobes. His body was shaking and his eyes were glassy, rimmed in moisture. “No, Lawson,” he fought off a round of guffaws. “You’re a bad shot now, but you’ll get the hang of it. I promise.”

 

“Go ahead!” I moaned. “Laugh at me. I know you want to.”

 

I had barely finished my permissive sentence when Alex flopped onto his butt and howled like a country bear, smacking at the ground. I crossed my arms in front of my chest, anger creeping into my soul. “It wasn’t that bad for a second time!”

 

Alex wiped his eye, sitting up and gasping for air.

 

“I bet I even hit the target this time. Maybe not on his body, but I’m sure I hit the paper.” I sprang to my feet and fiddled with the lever that zipped the paper target toward me. I examined it with narrowed eyes.

 

“Well?” Alex asked, brushing off the seat of his pants and standing behind me.

 

I mashed the lever back. “It was there.”

 

“Really?” He yanked on the lever from the target in the next booth over. “You sure it wasn’t here?”

 

“Well, I said I knew I hit the target, right? I just didn’t specify which target.”

 

“Smooth.” He raised his eyebrows. “Try it again?”

 

“Maybe firearms really aren’t my forte.”

 

Alex was already curling me into him. “All the more reason for you to go again. You can only get lucky with ass shots so often.”

 

I turned, my face reddening. “You knew about that?”

 

That sexy half smile again. “A hot chick doesn’t shoot a complete lunatic in the ass without the entire force hearing about it.”

 

I felt oddly proud—both because my ass shot to Roland Townsend had made me a legend, and because as Alex curled me into him for the second time in ten minutes, I didn’t pool into jelly. Completely.

 

I shot off a few more rounds and little by little—little by very little—my aim was improving. By the time I had cleared about a dozen, Alex was sitting on the cement bench behind me, popping peanut M&M’s into his mouth. I turned and looked at him over my shoulder.

 

“Some teacher,” I harrumphed.

 

“You’re doing great. You went from hitting the ground to hitting the ceiling to hitting someone else’s target to—” He stood up, squinted, and then nodded, impressed. “Hitting your own target.”

 

“While you sit there eating chocolate.”

 

“If you must know”—he popped a handful in his mouth—“I’ve been keeping an eye on your form.”

 

The slant to his smile was nothing short of shameless and the heat that had zipped through my body now pooled low in my belly—and lower into my panties. “Well, how is it?”

 

Alex quirked an eyebrow. “How’s what?”

 

I dropped the magazine from my gun, feeling its heat on my palm. Something about handling that thing made me feel bold, confident—dangerous. I looked at him through lowered lashes, snaked my tongue over my tooth sexily like I had seen Nina do a thousand times. “My form.”

 

It was fleeting—but definite. Red shot across Alex’s cheeks and his usual cool demeanor was challenged. He quickly regained control, put both booted feet on the floor, and strode toward me. “Let me help you with that.”

 

“I can do it.”

 

Alex stopped short of me, arms crossed in front of his chest, trademark half smile cutting up the left side of his cheek. “You sure?”

 

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