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“Did you really think I wouldn’t protect my family?”
“No—I don’t know—I just thought—”
“I know what you thought. But it was wrong. I’m not a pussy, Amy. And I wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in Jack Mooney.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Our eyes meet, and he smiles. “The right time.”
He pulls onto the gravel in front of an old, dilapidated barn, turns off the car, and takes the bag from my lap. “Come on.”
“What are we doing?”
“What does it look like?” he quips, flinging his door open. “I’m going to teach you how to shoot.”
We walk for ages through tall grass, making me thankful for my choice of shoes. It’s sunny out, a little nippy but otherwise mild. Although, the sun is waning, and that will soon change. The further we walk, the more I complain. “I forgot my jacket. And what if I’d been in heels?”
“I knew you weren’t. And here,” he offers, sliding his jacket from his shoulders. “Take mine.”
When we come to a clearing, he stops and surveys the area. Satisfied, he sets the bag on the ground. “This oughta do.”
“The sun will be going down soon.”
“I know.”
“Well, since you know everything, it might be a good time to tell you I offered Alex money to take care of Mooney and now…”
“Now what?”
“Now he might be blackmailing me.”
“Tell me you’re joking.”
My lips press into a hard line. I shake my head.
“I wished you’d mentioned this before.”
“I know.”
He shakes his head. “No, you don’t…I sent an email to the partners at his law firm today and copied him. I said that he was harassing my wife—though I didn’t mention the truth. I just said it was over real estate business, and that if he didn’t intend on taking it to court, that he’d better leave you alone.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I know Alex. I know what pushes his buttons. He loves his job—and he understands the law. He won’t mess around when it comes to either.”
My eyes narrow. “What if he doesn’t go away?”
“I have a strong feeling he will.” He removes the guns and ammo from the bag and lines them out on a log. “And if not,” he says, glancing over at me, “maybe we’ll just kill them both.”
“Okay,” he says as he slides ear muffs over my ears. “Wait.” He hands me a pair of glasses. “Put these on.”
He steps back, checks his phone, and then shoves it in his pocket. He hands me the gun, steadying my hands around the grip. “Flip the safety. Line up your sight, and when you’re ready, pull the trigger.”
Taking a deep breath, I set my stance and focus on my target. I keep my body balanced, preparing for the shock. And then I pull the trigger back. Even though I blink involuntarily the first few rounds, it’s easier than I thought it would be.
He inserts another clip. “Again.”
I roll my eyes. The gun is heavy, and I have noodle arms, which causes me to have to readjust, drop my arms, and fix my stance.
