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“Ona ne uchilas', ona prirozhdenyy talant.”
She didn’t learn it, she’s a natural, a savant.
I’m holding my breath when she gets to the explosive target. It’s so far away it seems like a mockery, but her determination is palpable.
She fires, the bullet a streak. There’s a moment of silence, then the clearing erupts with the sound of an explosion.
Nikko shakes his head. “Holy shit, Harper. Where did you learn to shoot?”
Her eyes twinkle. “Aleks taught me.”
I growl. “Harper,” I say, my voice tinged with amusement.
Nikko snorts.
“Can I use a different gun?” she asks. “I want to play around with them.”
Nikko gives me a sidelong glance.
I nod to her. “Yeah, baby. Pick your poison.”
She chooses another, Nikko’s custom Glock 19 with the silver slide and red-dot optic.
She licks her lips. When she takes her stance, Nikko’s eyes widen and he curses reverently. He sees what I see.
“Hit the pinecone at the very, very top,” I tell her. A lone pinecone hangs from a high branch of a distant white pine.
Nodding, she takes aim and shoots. The pinecone explodes and the pieces fall to the ground.
“Holy shit,” Nikko whispers.
“Yeah.” I start to laugh, shaking my head. “You’re the only one I’ve ever seen that can shoot like that, brother.”
“She’s too skilled for fucking target shooting,” Nikko says. “Forget that. I need to take her to The Hidden Mark.”
The Hidden Mark is a private, discreet place Kolya designed for us to practice.
Buoyed by Nikko’s acknowledgement and the thrill of mastering these challenges, it appears Harper’s ready to up the ante. Selecting a series of difficult targets, she calls them out. “Top left, purple target.”
Bang.
“Center right, target the size of my pinky toe.”
Whiz.
Each shot rings out with clarity, her laughter mingling with the sound of bullets finding their marks. She isn’t amused but buoyed by the knowledge that she’s found her personal super power.
“Look, you know you can’t teach someone this shit, right?” Nikko asks. “So don’t even entertain the thought that she pulled one over on you. Fuck. This is skill someone’s born with, brother.”
I nod. “I know.” I shake my head and laugh mirthlessly. “Her fucking father beat her for touching his gun and he didn’t even know what he had, right at his fucking fingertips.”
Nikko growls beside me. “I knew I hated the asshole.”
“Tell me about it.”
I watch as Harper continues to shoot. She doesn’t take a break. It’s gorgeous, like watching a skilled pianist’s fingers dance over the keys, or a figure skater’s seamless gliding on ice.
“Harper,” I call out, in both amusement and warning. “Remember the point is precision, not showing off. You’re still holding a fucking gun.”
