his eyes glued to it the entire time. He grimaced as I wrapped it in the cloth and shoved it into my pocket.
“Three days at the most. Maybe two,” he said as he reached for the door switch.
I caught a reflection in the mirror behind him that looked like a white Nissan GT-R Nismo driving by. My asshole puckered. I spun around and scanned the parking lot.
Nothing.
Although I was rarely nervous about anything, I told myself that was the case. I must have been nervous. After all, I had three million reasons to be nervous.
“I’ll be waiting for your call.”
“Very well,” he said with a smile.
I turned toward the front door just as the magnetic lock clicked, unlocking it for free passage. I pushed the door open, walked to my car, and reached for the door handle.
A sharp pain shot down my spine, followed by a blinding light, then everything went black.
NINE
Jess
OUR date was in no way what I expected – or hoped for – but it led me to believe Dick may be seeing me as slightly more than a simple piece of ass.
He pulled the earmuff away from my right ear. “Squeeze the trigger. Don’t yank it.”
I nodded. My father was in the military, and growing up on a farm as the only sister to three brothers, a gun wasn’t anything new to me. I’d fired them many times, but never in an indoor range. I steadied the gun, aligned the sights, and squeezed the trigger.
The recoil from the 9mm wasn’t near as brutal as the .45 caliber my father taught me to shoot with. I stared at the target, slightly disappointed with my performance – the rip in the paper target wasn’t exactly where I’d pointed, but it was close. I fired another. And another. In a matter of seconds, the slide stayed open, a reminder that the 17-round magazine was empty.
I glanced at Dick.
“Not bad,” he said with a nod. “Definitely not your first time.”
“Not at all,” is said. “My father was a Marine. And, I grew up on a farm.”
He reeled the target in and inspected it. “Impressive.”
I studied the three-inch long gash on the side of his forehead. “So, are you going to tell me what happened?”
“Just like I told you earlier. Misunderstanding.”
I knew better than to pry. There was no doubt that Dick was involved in some shady stuff, and as with most people who chose the life of an outlaw, he kept his criminal life private.
“Okay.”
He pulled off my target, placed a new on the clip, and ran the it out to twenty-five feet.
“Put on your ears,” he said.
I pulled the earmuffs over my ears and put on my glasses. Seventeen shots were fired as fast as he was able to pull the trigger. He placed the pistol down, reeled the target in, and inspected it.
All of the rounds were within a few inches of each other. I knew enough about firing a pistol to know he was as good as my father, and he was as good as the US Marine Corps had ever seen.
I pointed at the shredded paper. “Wow.”
He shrugged. “Lots of practice.”
“I guess so.”
We alternated back and forth, each taking turns shooting at various targets. I appreciated that he wanted to use the same lane, and enjoy the time we spent at the range – instead of getting two lanes and making it a less personal experience.
After we fired all of the ammunition, he glanced around the empty range. “So, you about ready to eat?”
“Sure,” I said.
He was dressed in a V-neck tee shirt, jeans, and dress shoes, which was much different than the other two times I’d seen him. His muscular physique was undeniable in the clothes he was wearing, and staring was something I had to consciously try to keep myself from doing.
The tee shirt clung to his wide chest as he placed the pistols, glasses, and earmuffs in the padded case. After cleaning up all of the trash, he picked up the gun case and patted me on the shoulder.
“Ready?”
“You sure everything’s okay?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You sure whatever hit your head didn’t do some
“Three days at the most. Maybe two,” he said as he reached for the door switch.
I caught a reflection in the mirror behind him that looked like a white Nissan GT-R Nismo driving by. My asshole puckered. I spun around and scanned the parking lot.
Nothing.
Although I was rarely nervous about anything, I told myself that was the case. I must have been nervous. After all, I had three million reasons to be nervous.
“I’ll be waiting for your call.”
“Very well,” he said with a smile.
I turned toward the front door just as the magnetic lock clicked, unlocking it for free passage. I pushed the door open, walked to my car, and reached for the door handle.
A sharp pain shot down my spine, followed by a blinding light, then everything went black.
NINE
Jess
OUR date was in no way what I expected – or hoped for – but it led me to believe Dick may be seeing me as slightly more than a simple piece of ass.
He pulled the earmuff away from my right ear. “Squeeze the trigger. Don’t yank it.”
I nodded. My father was in the military, and growing up on a farm as the only sister to three brothers, a gun wasn’t anything new to me. I’d fired them many times, but never in an indoor range. I steadied the gun, aligned the sights, and squeezed the trigger.
The recoil from the 9mm wasn’t near as brutal as the .45 caliber my father taught me to shoot with. I stared at the target, slightly disappointed with my performance – the rip in the paper target wasn’t exactly where I’d pointed, but it was close. I fired another. And another. In a matter of seconds, the slide stayed open, a reminder that the 17-round magazine was empty.
I glanced at Dick.
“Not bad,” he said with a nod. “Definitely not your first time.”
“Not at all,” is said. “My father was a Marine. And, I grew up on a farm.”
He reeled the target in and inspected it. “Impressive.”
I studied the three-inch long gash on the side of his forehead. “So, are you going to tell me what happened?”
“Just like I told you earlier. Misunderstanding.”
I knew better than to pry. There was no doubt that Dick was involved in some shady stuff, and as with most people who chose the life of an outlaw, he kept his criminal life private.
“Okay.”
He pulled off my target, placed a new on the clip, and ran the it out to twenty-five feet.
“Put on your ears,” he said.
I pulled the earmuffs over my ears and put on my glasses. Seventeen shots were fired as fast as he was able to pull the trigger. He placed the pistol down, reeled the target in, and inspected it.
All of the rounds were within a few inches of each other. I knew enough about firing a pistol to know he was as good as my father, and he was as good as the US Marine Corps had ever seen.
I pointed at the shredded paper. “Wow.”
He shrugged. “Lots of practice.”
“I guess so.”
We alternated back and forth, each taking turns shooting at various targets. I appreciated that he wanted to use the same lane, and enjoy the time we spent at the range – instead of getting two lanes and making it a less personal experience.
After we fired all of the ammunition, he glanced around the empty range. “So, you about ready to eat?”
“Sure,” I said.
He was dressed in a V-neck tee shirt, jeans, and dress shoes, which was much different than the other two times I’d seen him. His muscular physique was undeniable in the clothes he was wearing, and staring was something I had to consciously try to keep myself from doing.
The tee shirt clung to his wide chest as he placed the pistols, glasses, and earmuffs in the padded case. After cleaning up all of the trash, he picked up the gun case and patted me on the shoulder.
“Ready?”
“You sure everything’s okay?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You sure whatever hit your head didn’t do some
Similar Books
