“Pulling the triggershouldbe scary. You need to be aware of the consequences of every shot you take.”
“That’s not making me less nervous.” One lesson and she already felt defeated.
“Look at me, Thorn. No one is ever any good at this the first time out. It takes practice. Just like your psychic stuff, right? You have to train to get better until it’s as natural as a reflex.”
She felt a little niggle of guilt in her chest. He had a point. Which meant that her grandmother wasn’t exactly wrong. She hadn’t been a dutiful student. Since the incident earlier in the summer, she’d been spending most of her days with her spiritual garage doors down, just enjoying being a regular person for a change. In the past few weeks, she and Gabe had spent more time going for ice cream and brunch than they had flexing her clairvoyance muscles.
She hadn’t just fallen off the wagon. She’d willingly hurled herself under its wheels. And that was irresponsible, especially since she’d volunteered to help Kellen with his case.
Riley blew out a sigh. “You know what one of the most depressing things about being an adult is?”
He clipped a new target to the arm and sent it down range. “What?”
“I always thought at some point I’d be the best version of myself and that things would come easier then. But nothing is easy. There is no best self. It’s all just hard work and sweaty, painful practice.”
Nick ruffled her hair. “Poor little Riley Thorn. That’s why you gotta make the practice fun.”
“How do you do that?” she asked glumly.
“We’ll start here.” There was a gleam in his eyes behind the safety glasses.
Soon, she saw why. He came up behind her, caging her between the counter and his own body. She could feel every inch of his hard, delicious front where it pressed against her back.
“Pick up your gun, Thorn,” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice.
“Uh, okay.” She did as he instructed.
“Good girl. Now, load it and chamber a round.”
She slapped the magazine into the pistol and managed to rack the slide on the first try. “Now what?” she asked, feeling anticipation mix with nerves. Everything felt better with Nick Santiago pressed up against her.
“Now we do it together.” His hands gripped her hips, holding her against him. “Pull the trigger, Thorn. Practice makes awesome.”
9
6:59 p.m., Thursday, August 13
69 Dogwood Street in Camp Hill looked just like any of the other sedate brick houses on their late summer dead-grass lots. But appearances were deceiving.
“Okay,” Riley said, turning around in her seat to look at the rest of the vehicle’s occupants. “Is everyone familiar with the plan?”
Gabe nodded. “We are to attend Thorn Family Dinner.”
“And?” she prodded.
Fred’s toupeed head popped up in her line of sight. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, her eighty-something-year-old roommate had decided to join them at her parents’ house for God knows what her mother was going to serve.
“After an appropriate amount of time, we make an excuse and leave.”
Burt gave an agreeable grumble from the back of Nick’s SUV. Gabe and Fred nodded solemnly.
“Great. Don’t let your guards down in there. My grandmother is a terrifying woman and always has an ulterior motive,” she warned them.
“Chicken or tacos after this?” Nick asked as he turned off the car.
“Yes.”
They piled out of the SUV and strolled up the walk. A welcoming “moo” came from the backyard.
