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Ivan sat at the end of the table looking at his tablet and smiled up at me when I came in. He motioned to the breakfast laid out on the buffet, but I was more interested in the arsenal in front of me.
“You need to eat,” he said, scowling.
To appease him, I grabbed a granola bar and munched on it while he explained the different types of weapons, then told me to choose one.
“Do you mean it?” I asked, almost choking on the dry raisin and nut bar. “You’re going to teach me to shoot?”
“You said that was what you wanted, right?”
“I never thought you’d say yes.” I threw myself at him and he hurriedly put down the semi-automatic rifle he had in his hands to catch me.
“A good first rule is to probably never fling yourself at someone holding a gun,” he said with a laugh.
I wanted to get to shooting right away, but he insisted on showing me how to hold them, where the safety switches were, how to load and unload, and all the rules involved in order not to accidentally shoot myself or him.
“Don’t ever aim at something you don’t mean to hit,” he said seriously.
I nodded, shockingly aroused by him as he speedily loaded up a smaller handgun for me to use. He put it in a case along with packing up a few others and told me it was finally time to actually pull some triggers.
“In the backyard?” I asked, wondering how the neighbors would take that.
He laughed and motioned for me to take my very own gun case. “Shooting in the backyard is a very good way to draw unwanted attention,” he said mildly.
I had to stow my impatience for a little longer while he drove us to a private gun range out in the boonies. He walked ahead of me, beating back the overgrown palmettos that were trying to take over the path from the secluded driveway. The building was deserted, but Ivan had a key and let us in, flicking on overhead lights. It was quiet except for the hum of the fluorescent bulbs and Ivan told me to sit tight in the front area while he set up the range.
“No way,” I said, following him.
He pulled me close and dropped a kiss on my head. “You don’t have to be scared, but come along with me if you want.”
Just then the sound of tires rolling through the gravel parking lot outside made him smile. “That will be Pavel. He runs this place for me. He’ll set it up.”
Pavel was a burly older man with a mouth full of chewing tobacco and a strange mix of Russian and redneck accent. He scratched his big belly as he greeted us, half joking and half grumbling as he went to get the shooting stalls ready for us.
Once it was ready, Ivan helped me get my ear protection on and slid the safety goggles over my nose, smiling at me as he watched me take my gun out of its case. I did everything he showed me and he deemed me ready to fire.
“It’s about time,” I said. He stood back and nodded for me to have at it and I unloaded at the paper target.
His mouth hung open when the gun was empty and I laughed at how exhilarating it was. He handed me one of his bigger guns while he reloaded mine and I quickly emptied that one as well. He reeled in my target and pointed out how I could get better accuracy. I was ready to keep practicing and eagerly held out my hands for my own little handgun back.
He shook his head and smiled at me. “You’re certainly having more fun than I expected, my bloodthirsty queen.”
“I’m not bloodthirsty.” I put my hand over my stomach, never wanting to feel the helplessness that I had in the basement, not sure if I was going to live or die, or if my baby would ever have a chance to be born. “I only want to protect your heir.”
He put my gun down and put his hand over mine. “Our heir,” he corrected.
I believed him then that he loved me, that he didn’t just keep me around for the baby. I desperately wanted to say it back to him, but the words caught in my throat. Wasn’t I still his prisoner, love or no love between us?
“Will I be able to keep the gun in my room?” I asked.
He frowned. “Our room,” he corrected again.
He was dodging my question and I changed the words, pressing my luck in testing him. “Can I keep it in our room, then? In the bedside table?” I never wanted to be without a means to protect myself again, but would he see my wanting the gun as a way to seek my freedom? Wasn’t that really what I was angling for?
His jaw muscle twitched and he stared down at me silently for so long I was about to turn away to resume my practice. “Yes,” he finally said.
“Yes?”
“You can keep it in the bedside table drawer. Whatever makes you feel safe.” He looked down then, but I caught a flash of sadness. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, Reina.”
