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“Get that look off your goddamn face, Linc. You know damn well I would never lay a finger on a woman.”
Fuck, of course, I know that. This intense urge to protect Charlie from any harm is seriously fucking with my head.
“What I meant is I know you’ll figure out where and what this information is and what she was planning on doing with it. I don’t want her deciding to turn state’s evidence against Jace to get him off her back or some shit. Not if it means we get caught in the crossfire.”
“I’ll figure it out, Prez.”
Ozzy nods once more and looks at the mountain of paperwork on his desk. “Keep me updated,” he replies before muttering to himself about how much he hates all this damn paperwork.
I stand from my chair, and as I reach the door, Ozzy calls out to me.
“You know we have your back and Charlie’s and her friend’s by extension, yeah?”
“I know.”
“Alright,” Ozzy replies, waving his hand for me to leave.
I go back to the kitchen and grab another cup of coffee. Fuck, this just keeps getting more and more complicated.
There’s one thing I know for sure. It’s no use denying that whether or not I like it, Charlie is mine to protect. What it means beyond that is anyone’s guess. The Italians and the Irish will definitely think twice about trying to take what’s mine. They’ll have to go through me and my brothers to get to her now.
But first things first. I want to make sure Charlie can defend herself if she ever needs to.
Jude walks into the kitchen as I’m mulling over the new shitstorm we’ve found ourselves in.
“Hey, man, fancy some target practice?”
Jude’s smile is wider than I would expect for this time in the morning, but there’s nothing like blowing off some steam at the range.
“Let’s do it, mate.”
Chapter ten
Charlie
“Haveyouevershota gun before Cha Cha?” Linc asks with a laugh. “Okay, that one was horrible when I said it out loud.”
“Gee, ya think?” Lucy asks from beside me in an open field, where there are various targets set up for my first shooting lesson.
“Yeah, what is with the terrible nicknames?” Jude asks while inspecting the array of guns he has laid out on the table next to us.
“Who doesn’t love a good nickname?” Linc says.
I raise my hand. “Me. I don’t love nicknames. Not to mention not a single one has been good.”
“It’s a work in progress. Don’t worry, Charlie cake, I’ll find one.” The teasing smile on his face is giving me those gooey feelings on the inside, even if the nicknames aren’t.
When Lucy and I emerged from our room this morning, Linc informed me that he wanted to see how well I handled a gun. I promptly informed him I never had, so it would be a surprise for both of us. If I was worried things would feel weird after our almost kiss last night, I shouldn’t have been. He’s acting like it never happened. Now, I’m worried about why he’s so unaffected. My mind is seriously a fucked-up place to be today.
“Okay, let’s go through the moving parts here,” Linc says before showing me the different weapons. He goes over each one on the table, explaining how to load and reload clips, the safety, and making sure to explain the only time you have your finger on the trigger is when you’re ready to fire. He shows me how to stand and breathe while I shoot and where to shoot if, heaven forbid, I ever have to defend myself.
“Don’t aim for the head. It’s a smaller target. Aim for the chest. You have a better chance of hitting something,” he says, standing behind me as I practice aiming at one of those paper target things.
“Can I ask you a question?” I lower my gun to the ground, making sure the safety is on before turning to him.
“Sure.”
“What do you think the chances are that I’m going to need to use this?” I ask, looking down at my hand.
