AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Today is my fourth dayworking with Santi, who has an infinite amount of patience. Guns are heavy, even the small ones, and there’s more to handling and pulling the trigger than the movies let on.
My hand-to-eye coordination leaves something to be desired, and it’s a miracle I haven’t shot Santi yet, or myself.
“Is your gun clean?” he asks, the bronze highlights in his chestnut hair glistening in the sun.
Santi makes me clean the weapon every day, so that I get comfortable handling it. I’ve been using a small .22 that looks almost like a toy, but today, he’s given me a larger pistol to contend with. “Squeaky.”
“All right, let’s try a little target practice.”
Ugh.I’m determined to learn to do this, but each day I become more discouraged. “Will it be easier with the bigger gun?”
He shrugs. “You never know. But it’s important to become accustomed to handling different weapons.” Santi is tall, with lean muscle and an easy way about him. He looks to be in his early twenties, and when I first met him, I was taken aback by how young he was for a guard.For Valentina’s guard.But after a few days with him, my initial reservations are gone.
“I thought that everyone had a favorite gun they carried.”
He nods. “Most people who regularly carry a weapon have one they prefer. It often becomes their binky. But that’s a mistake.”
“Why?”
“Why? What happens when all hell breaks loose, and the only weapon you can get your hands on is someone else’s binky?” He’s animated, waving his hands around. “You can’t just say, wait a minute. I need to go home and get my favorite gun. Ain’tnobodyletting you do that.”
I chuckle. This is exactly why Valentina adores Santi.
“Enough fun and games.” He hands me a pair of muffs to block out the worst of the noise. I hated them the first time I put them on, but now they don’t bother me as much.
“See that target?” he asks, pointing to one of the straw men he’s set up in the not-too-far distance. “I want you to aim and hit him. Remember everything we’ve worked on.”
I eye the straw dummy, dressed in worn clothes with a bandanna covering his face.Hit him, he says, like it’s so easy.“Where should I hit him?”
“Wherever you can,senhora. It’s best to kill him, but even a flesh wound will slow him down momentarily.”
I put on the muffs and practice for about twenty minutes, with Santi making small corrections. This gun has a heavier recoil, but the longer barrel helps with accuracy. Although, much to my annoyance, the target is still pristine.
“Do you think it might be better if I was aiming at a bull’s-eye? Isn’t that what some people use for target practice?”
“They can be useful, especially for more advanced training. But I’ve never seen an attacker wearing a bull’s-eye you can aim at. You need to find your own bull’s-eye. That’s the way I was trained, and it’s the way I teach. I think it’s the best way to learn.”
“I’m never going to be able to protect myself, or anyone, with a gun, am I?”
“Things will have to go very bad for you to need to draw a gun,” he says casually. “It’s merely a precaution. You’ll get the hang of it. No one learns to shoot after a few lessons. It’s not natural for most people. That’s why I make you clean the gun every day and stock ammunition, so you get used to it.”
I realize this is a new skill, but for some reason, I feel the urgency to be proficient.
“Let’s take a break,” he says, taking the pistol from me. “Sometimes it helps to step back and reset. A lot of it’s up here,” Santi explains, pointing an index finger to his head.
There’s no question I’ve been psyching myself out. I know if I stick with it, I’ll improve. The first time I got on a horse—that’s a bad example. Riding has always come naturally to me.
“I’m going to have a coffee,” he says, “but you’re better off with water. Caffeine can make your hand shaky. You don’t need that.”
It’s the last thing I need. Although I don’t see how my aim could get any worse. I sit on the bench and take a long swig from my water bottle. I know what Antonio said, but I’m still surprised he’s having me work with Santi rather than Alvarez. “How long have you worked for Antonio?”
“Almost thirteen years.”
Thirteen years?“How old are you?”
“Twenty-three, next month.”
“You started working for him when you were ten?”
