Professor Nick had her repeat this exercise until her fingers hurt.
“They make it look so easy in movies,” she complained.
“They make getting shot look easier too,” he pointed out.
Thanks to personal experience, Riley had taken to calling bullshit whenever characters on screen got shot and managed to continue performing heroic feats of strength.
“My fingers are numb.”
“Then I guess it’s time to shoot. I’ll go first. Watch my stance and be impressed.”
He clipped one of the paper targets onto the return arm and sent it out five yards. Flashing her a cocky grin over his shoulder, he picked up the Glock and fired off six shots in rapid succession. Riley jumped each time he fired.
He put the gun down and hit the recall button.
“Jeez! Did you even hit anything?” she asked dryly.
“See for yourself.”
The man with the revolver whistled. “That’s some nice shooting, sonny.”
Nick gave himthe nodthen looked at her expectantly.
There were six neat holes clustered in the dead center of the target.
She blinked. “Wow. You reallyaregood at everything.”
He preened. “Yes. Yes, I am. Now, let’s see what you’ve got.”
She wiped her damp palms on the back of her shorts and carefully inserted the magazine into the pistol. It took her two tries before she racked the slide properly, and by then, her heart was pounding in her chest. Someone in another lane fired off a shot that made her jump.
“Now you’re going to bring the gun up in both hands like you practiced, take a deep breath, and pull the trigger,” Nick instructed.
It couldn’t be that hard, right? The two teen girls at the end of the range were making Swiss cheese out of their target.
She pointed the gun at the fresh target, took a deep breath, and squeezed the trigger.
She yelped and jerked her elbows when the weapon fired. The shot rang in her ears, and her body tightened reflexively as the gun kicked in her grip.
“Oh my God. I hit it!”
“Yeah, baby. If we ever need anyone to shoot the outside of a bad guy’s knees, you’ll be the one to take the shot,” Nick said with affection, eyeing the hole at the bottom left of the target.
So she hadn’t hit the silhouette. But shehadat least hit the paper.
“Keep going,” he encouraged.
She did as she was told and slowly fired off the other rounds, yelping each time she squeezed the trigger.
He took the empty gun out of her hands and recalled the target. She’d managed to wing the right shoulder, pierce the silhouette’s ear, and completely missed the paper for her last three shots.
“Where exactly were you aiming for?” he asked.
Riley tapped the unblemished center circle on the target. “I suck at this, don’t I?”
He grinned. “Not going to lie. The terrified squeaking is adorable.”
“I can’t help it. I’m respectfully petrified.”
