AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I don’t want to go back to that place. Hearing Colt’s screams, feeling the horses fear. The ambulance sirens that haunt my dreams.
A shiver runs down my body.
“I’ll ask questions. I want you to pause and think strategically before you respond. Don’t react. Don’t let anyone push your buttons,” Eli says.
That’s not my strength, generally. I fire, then aim—verbally anyway. And Eli knows that as well as anyone. He also knows I won’t fly off the handle. I’m hot tempered but not stupid.
He lobs question after question at me. It’s exhausting. They start to feel pointed and too personal. I don’t like this at all.
He “rests his case,” and that’s the moment Pop steps in. He ingratiates himself, asking details we’ve been over. He makes light of some things and gets me to let my hair down. He asks details we’ve been over more than once tonight. “Did you feel threatened?”
“Yes.”
“Earlier you said you knew you were threatened. Were you preparing for an attack? Were you waiting—vigilante style—to tip the scales in your family’s favor?”
“I—” I start.
“Do I understand you were a competitive markswoman for years?”
“I was.”
“So you’re a trained killing machine?”
“You walked right into that one, Bright. Try that again.” He looks between me and Pop.
“Miss Ranger, were you a competitive markswoman?”
“Years ago. I was also a competitive barrel racer. I don’t see how either one factors into the moment in question when my nephew was being hunted.”
“Better,” Eli pipes in. “This time, dial back the anger, dial up the vulnerability.”
“I’m weary.”
“I understand, sweet girl, but we only have tonight to prepare, so let’s keep going.” Pop encourages me before turning on me as if he’s rehearsing for a role on a weekly legal drama.
“Miss Ranger, were you a competitive shooter?”
“I was, but it’s been many years now.”
“Does one lose the skill?”
“I guess, like most things, skills are sharper the more they’re used. I’m definitely out of practice and certainly not within striking distance of any decent competitor.”
“So you don’t deny you’re a hell of a marksman?”
“I wouldn’t define myself that way, Sir.”
“How would you define yourself?”
“As someone who did what she must because it was a matter of my nephew’s life, of my life, or our imminent deaths.”
“Why imminent? That sounds overly dramatic.”
“Sir, I never want to be on the working end of a gun. Ever. But in the presence of my nephew…” I intentionally let the words hang. “Have you ever stared into the pipe of a pistol as it’s pointed at your head? Imminent is as close a word as I can use to describe that moment.”
“Excellent,” Eli cuts in. “This is exactly where you want to be. Don’t let him walk you into a trap about your shooting skills. You’re too good. I don’t want him to bring up a skill that would’ve allowed you to nullify the threat instead of eliminating it.”
“Kimp?” Eli turns to my dad. “Are you comfortable?”
