Page 190 of Captive Ruin

Now I have to disappoint him. “I can’t keep it. I don’t have a license.”

But he doesn’t even blink. “Didn’t stop you last time, did it?” he notes, amused. “If it helps, it’s registered in my name. But it’s yours.”

A reminder he already knew, and remembered. Why am I not surprised?

I undo the clips on the case, opening it carefully. Inside, there’s a pistol resting in molded velvet, finished in pearlescent pink, with the barrel and trigger plated in rose-gold. Engraved into the grip are the letters AVW, and it takes me a moment to realize they’re my initials. Now that I’m married.

“9mm Sig P365,” he says softly, watching my expression. “Lighter than the one you had, designed for smaller hands.”

“It’s… beautiful,” I say, because it is. He didn’t just buy me a gun, he had one made.

It sits in its case beside a magazine in the same color, and a squat, fat cylinder that looks like a barrel extension resting in its own compartment. I lever it out with one finger, wondering what it is, then I realize just as he speaks.

“No gun is complete without a silencer.”

I let it drop back into place. “Why would I need a silencer?”

“For shooting quietly,” he replies, perfectly straight-faced.

That’s so… him.

“Don’t worry,” I say sarcastically, “when I shoot you, I’ll want you to see it coming.”

He only smiles, dimples flashing, and sets the box of rounds down beside my gun. He shows no concern as I fill my magazine then insert it and cock the weapon. I’m armed and dangerous, but he only nods down the lane.

“Let’s see what you can do. Go for a tight grouping.”

“Are you trusting me with a gun that has bullets in it while you’re standing next to me?”

“Do you want to swap the prison I keep you in for a six-foot cell?” He nods to the ceiling. “There are cameras in here.”

Was that a joke?

“Better company in prison,” I mutter, pulling a pair of ear defenders on. Then I take aim the way Lucy showed me: feet wide, both arms extended, weight forward.

“Stop,” he says, before I even fire a shot.

“What now?”

His hands come to rest on my waist, fingers brushing bare skin between my jeans and top as he turns me. “Angle your body like this.”

My breath catches, my skin tingling, nipples hardening. He’s close enough to smell his cologne, sandalwood and bergamot, always so subtle. I find myself inhaling deeply through my nose.

No. Bad Amelia.

“Not what I was taught,” I mutter to distract myself.

“Mmm. This is better.”

If I had to choose between Lucy and Van Wyk to teach me, I guess I know who has more experience. “All right.”

“Push your ass back more,” he murmurs.

I do as he says, and he’s so close behind me, I immediately press into his groin, rubbing against his cock.

“Give a girl some space,” I say, my voice catching.

He chuckles softly but doesn’t move, and I have to decide whether to hold my ground or step away.