“I don’t want it to happen again.”
“I know.” I tried to soothe her, holding her in my arms while she fought against fear, while terror and demons battled for her strength. “I’ll call Jaxon, see what I can set up, okay?”
I’d give her anything, and if helping her feel strong made her feel better, it was a small risk.
It took a few hours, mostly because I needed her fully awake, not still fighting back the dredges of her nightmares, to know she was steady and ready for what she wanted.
At almost noon, we were pulling up to Hayes Security in the back of an SUV. Addi’s hand was clasped tightly in mine. Her nerves had left her unsettled, and yet her determination kept her face etched with sharp lines and an awareness in her eyes.
God…she’d spent too much time around us and was starting to act like us.
Pride suffused my blood at the thought. As much as I didn’t want this life for her, it was damn awesome how quickly she could adjust.
The door opened and I slipped out. Briggs was standing steady, scanning the parking garage, eyes lit with focus. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Get inside. Gun range is ready, and Mason’s already pulled guns out for her.”
Awesome. Outside of the very real threat to her safety and why she wanted to do this, I was getting a hard-on at the thought of teaching Addi how to shoot a gun. She was always so terrified when I’d remove mine from my holster, and I couldn’t wait to see her fear change to excitement once she pulled the trigger that first time.
9
Addi
A rapid beat pulsed at the back of my neck, and I couldn’t shake it. I’d never seen a gun in real life until Shawn first set his down on my kitchen table. The next time I saw a gun, it was aimed at my head.
I might have grown up in the land of the Second Amendment and vaguely still remembered shotguns strapped to the backs of pickup cabs, but as far I knew, my father had never owned one.
Now, I was being escorted into a double-doored chamber, vents blasting me with a burst of air so cold I shivered.
Shawn gave me a pair of earphones, thick ones that would make me look like a fool, and coupled with the protective eyewear he also handed me, I gripped them so tightly the plastic left harsh marks on my palms.
“We have the range to ourselves right now, but there are rules you need to know in case you ever come back or”—his lips kicked up at the corner—“if you love it and start going to a public range.”
I didn’t see that happening, ever, but I agreed. “Okay.”
“Never open this door”—he pointed to the one leading us to the range—“without making sure the door we entered is closed. Bullets are loud, and they echo in this chamber, making them even louder. Plus, you never want to risk a stray bullet flying through.”
“A stray bullet?” He had to be kidding. “That happens?”
He shrugged, like the idea of dodging bullets whizzing through the air was no problem whatsoever. “Shit happens, you know that. Follow the rules. Got it?”
Shit happens. Right. I knew all about that.
“Also, always have your eye gear and your ear protection on before you enter. Last thing we need is you losing your hearing for an hour or two.”
“You’re really taking all the excitement out of this, you know.”
Shawn slid his own, personal glasses down from the top of his head to his eyes and tucked in two neon orange ear plugs. “These”—he pointed to them—“won’t muffle the sound as much as yours, so I can hear you.”
He took the goggles from my hands, prying them out of my grip, and settled them across my face, tucking hair behind my ears and making sure they sat on the bridge of my nose. I took care of my headphones.
“Ready.” I was absolutely not ready. My hands were already trembling from the freezing air mixing with my nerves. How in the hell could I hold a gun properly if I was shaking so bad?
He leaned in and lifted one piece off my ear. “I’m glad you want to do this, and I don’t want to scare you. I want to make sure you’re as safe as possible, okay?”
“I know.”
“Good.” His lips quirked into a full grin and he held out his hand. “Now let’s go have some fun shooting shit.”
I laughed, surprising myself with the sound.
That morning I’d woken with a nightmare clinging to me, clawing at me, and it had taken a thirty-minute shower to even begin to erase the vivid images from my mind, the guns and blood and being chased. Then it all switched to me being in a shipping container, being found in one, taken out…and everything that happened after.
I couldn’t tell Shawn about those nightmares, despite how much I knew he wanted to relieve me of the burden of them. He carried enough on his shoulders, and I didn’t want to talk about them; I wanted to vanquish them. Shawn knowing exactly all the fears racing through my mind wouldn’t help either of us, but I could do this. I could do something to ensure if I was ever taken or faced Daniel again, I could have at least a chance at protecting myself. That was what I had to focus on, finding control in a situation where so much of it had been stripped from me.
Shawn led us into one of the three lanes inside the actual gun range. As he did, I curled my hands into fists as nerves tightened my muscles. How in the heck was I going to actually hold a gun if my hands were shaking just watching Shawn load the bullets into it?
Once it was loaded, he set it down next to the smaller gun on the narrow table in front of us.
He came behind me, pressed one of his hands to my hip, and carefully lifted my ear protection off one ear.
I jumped as his mouth brushed against it.
“I know guns make you nervous, and I get it. They’re powerful things with the potential to kill, but I’ve got you, okay?”
I nodded, focusing on the warmth of his voice and his breath at my ear.
“The safety is here,” he said slowly, pointing to where it was. “Right now, it’s on, which means the gun won’t fire. Always make sure it’s like this when you’re not aiming to shoot. When you are, flip it like this, okay?”
“Got it.” Safety on. Flip it. I could do that.
He pressed another small button, and the bullets he’d loaded slid out into his palm. “This is the magazine. My gun holds twelve bullets in it. Yours is only six, and it’s a 22 millimeter, which means your bullets are smaller than mine. The gun itself is also smaller and lighter, easier for you to use without being overwhelmed.”
Bullets. Magazine. Safety. He continued to point out every part of the gun, and as I focused on his words and everything he was showing me, so patiently, so calmly, his methodical tone helped me relax.
“I want you to slide this in and smack it with the palm of your hand. Whenever you handle a gun, you have to make sure your finger is never on the trigger until you’re ready to shoot. Okay?” He reached around me and held the gun in his flat hand, careful not to curl his fingers around any part of it. “See? Just like this. Go ahead.”
I took the small handgun and placed it in my palm like he’d done, but the gun wasn’t nearly as steady as it’d been in his.