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Yeah, it is.
I’ve got a dozen stationary targets interspersed between the trees, all of varying heights, some mimicking a standing assailant, others crouched or only partially visible. Some are intended for knife practice, others to facilitate gun practice.
I watch as Charlotte pulls a blade from the holster at her right ankle.
I smile to myself. “Knew you’d go that route first off.”
“Throwing a blade takes more skill.”
“Debatable,” I say, pulling my gun, flipping off the safety and taking aim at the furthest target in the distance.
I fire and watch as the bullet hits dead-center in the bullseye of the head of the target. I lower my piece then turn to Char with a smirk like the arrogant shit I am.
She shakes her head at me, then takes aim with her blade at one of the wooden targets I carved into the shape of a person—damn good carving on my part. Her eyes narrow at it and she takes a beat, sucks in a breath, then lobs the blade.
It cuts through the air and hits dead center in the heart of the target, driving deep until just the handle is visible.
She returns my smirk. “It might not match the distance of a bullet, but it can still do some serious damage.” She shrugs. “Besides, when it’s feasible, I prefer to inflict my damage up close and personal.”
I fist my hand in her tactical jacket and jerk her into me. “Damn, woman, you turn me on something fierce.”
I crush my lips to hers, taking her in a deep kiss that leaves her breathless by the time I pull away.
She chuckles and presses her hand to my chest, easing me back. “Ease up, or we’re going to be rolling around in the grass and mud, fucking each other senseless out here on the forest floor.” She pulls another knife from somewhere inside her tactical jacket and eyes it reverentially. “Besides, we’re not close to being done here yet.”
“Gonna kick my ass, yeah?”
“Of course. It’s always been that way, why change it up now?”
“Calling me out? You know that ain’t gonna end well, kitten.”
She spins the blade in her hand with some major skill. “I guess we’ll see.”
And that’s what we do, playing off each other’s egos and skill, as we battle for a good couple of hours, basically decimating the targets. Our methods may be different, but they both get the job done. They ain’t really comparable. One ain’t better than the other. We ain’t better than the other, just friendly competition that lights a fire under each of us. It’s just like old times getting lost in it.
Hell, I don’t want it to end.
But it does.
With one phone call, as my ringtone cuts through our revelry.
I holster my gun, shoving it back into my hip holster.
“One second,” I tell Char. In the next beat, I pull my cell phone from the back pocket of my jeans.
I tense as I see that it’s Sin.
When I’m on lockdown at one of my safehouses, he don’t call just to shoot the shit with me. Nah, something’s gotta be wrong, real wrong.
I swipe it open, and don’t even get the chance to utter a word, before his frantic voice comes down the line, telling me, “Dealer, we got a situation down here in Brockford. Somebody’s tapped into our surveillance feeds and from what I’m seeing, they’re tracking one target all over the city. I’m here at our surveillance room trying to cut them off, but whoever’s got control is another level to me and you, I ain’t having much luck. I’m gonna head out into the field and cut them off from the target, but I wanted to get your take first, in case this is bigger picture stuff to do with the Gatekeepers. I don’t wanna be screwing with your plans and making things worse for you.”
Adrenaline shoots through me like livewires, making my hands shake, making me start to pace, unable to keep still.
I catch Char’s eye and she tenses at the freaked look on my face.
I force myself to ask the most obvious question, one I know I don’t want to hear the answer to, because the awful notion of who it is has already crossed my mind several times over since I picked up his call.
But I gotta know, I gotta hear it. And I gotta fix it.
