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It’d felt good to have her sitting beside me while we both enjoyed the game. I’d liked it too. I’d liked it to a dangerous degree. Spending time with Isabel but managing to resist her allure was going to be the hardest challenge of my life.
“I enjoy shooting,” I answered.
Her smile tilted, amused.
My brows rose. “What?”
“I’m just not really surprised, that’s all,” she said with a shake of her raven head. Her voice was warm, as though she liked my response. “It seems like something you’d enjoy.”
“Why do you say that?” I was truly baffled at her demeanor, like she was pleased to have this insight into my personality.
She shrugged. “It’s kind of…blunt, I guess. Very macho. It suits you.”
My chest warmed, a sensation that I refused to puzzle over. “Do you know how to handle a weapon?” I asked to divert her keen attention away from me.
Her pleased expression fell slightly. “No. My father wouldn’t let me. He said that guns weren’t for women.” Her eyes tightened with strain. “I wish I knew how. On the night of the coup…” She paled slightly but pressed on. “I wished I had a weapon. I wished I’d known how to protect myself.”
She looked so small in that moment, far too fragile. She’d been abused by men in the past. Just like how that motherfucker, Arturo, had hit her on the night of the coup to force his way into the panic room with her.
I liked having a weapon in hand because it made me feel safe, powerful. Maybe Isabel could use that kind of lethal comfort too.
“I’ll teach you,” I announced. “We’ll go to the shooting range after dinner.”
“Really? You’ll teach me how to shoot?” Her eyes went wide, sparking with something like hope. It made my chest ache, and I resisted the urge to rub my sternum to alleviate the pressure.
“Sure.” I nodded, and her broad grin knocked the air from my lungs. My wife was truly stunning when she smiled.
I tore my gaze from her face and focused on finishing my meal. Spending more time in her company might not be the best idea. Maybe I’d just made a huge mistake.
I selected a SIG P365 for her first lesson. Isabel didn’t need a massive handgun to learn to protect herself. Once she perfected her aim, she’d be able to stop a man with any size weapon, and something with a lighter weight was better suited to her strength.
She watched with rapt attention as I showed her the pistol, explaining how to handle it safely. When she reached for it eagerly, I pulled back slightly.
“You won’t be carrying a gun until I’m confident that you can shoot properly,” I warned.
Not to mention the fact that I still had her under guard. I was starting to trust my headstrong young wife, but there was no reason to tempt her into doing something reckless. Once I knew that she could aim to kill, I’d let her choose whether or not she wanted to regularly arm herself. She’d most likely feel safer that way, and I wouldn’t deny her the right to protection.
A fresh wash of anger tightened my gut at the thought of her bastard father and brother, who’d denied her the confidence of proficiency in self-defense. We lived in a dangerous world, and they’d left her unprotected in so many ways. I was glad the motherfuckers were dead. Now, I didn’t have to kill them myself. That would’ve pissed off Stefano, and I didn’t need any more trouble with my boss.
“Okay,” Isabel easily agreed to my condition. “I want to learn. Thank you for teaching me.”
I ignored the heat that pulsed in my chest and simply nodded in response. Her gratitude did something strange to my insides. I wasn’t sure that I was comfortable with the sensation. It was too unfamiliar, and I didn’t know how to process it.
“Put these on, and I’ll show you the correct stance,” I said tightly, handing her the necessary protective gear.
Good. We wouldn’t have to talk anymore.
But I hadn’t considered the fact that I’d have to touch her.
This had been a terrible idea.
As I gripped her waist to turn her slender frame, I felt a small shiver race through her body. Electricity arced between us, just as potent as it had been when I’d kissed her on our wedding day.
Thank fuck she was facing away from me, so that I couldn’t be tempted by her lush lips.
I drew in a deep breath and forced down my arousal, helping her learn to grip the weapon safely. I didn’t want the recoil to hurt her. For a moment, I questioned this entire exercise. My fragile wife shouldn’t have to defend herself; that was my job.
I shook my head slightly. No matter how fiercely I wanted to protect her, I couldn’t fully trust in my ability to do so. One day, I might fail her, and the least I could do now was help her learn to handle a weapon.
