Time for a gun.
The gun range was a few stories underground and cold, all concrete and ballistics glass, which she knew because Markus told her. It was arranged like a bowling alley with four lanes. Instead ofpins, there were paper sheets with human targets. The smell of gunpowder filled her senses and ignited a fire in her belly.
“We’re not breathing in lead, are we?” She’d read a lot about lead in children. It couldn’t be good for adults either.
“The smell is strong, but there are exhaust fans.”
Markus picked up a gun from a table where he’d laid out materials like a preschool teacher setting up for a craft project. Instead of Popsicle sticks, glue, and googly eyes, his materials were guns, ammo, and a few things she didn’t recognize.
“Have you ever fired a gun?”
“Only Nerf.” And she wasn’t very good at those.
“Not even paintball?” He looked shocked.
“No.” She hadn’t been the kind of kid who played paintball.
Markus gave her a lesson, and she tried to keep track of the rules:
1. Treat all guns like they’re loaded, even if you don’t think they are.
2. Keep your finger off the trigger.
3. When holding the gun, face it downrange.
4. When you’re ready to fire your weapon, squeeze the trigger gently.
Markus was so competent and good at everything. “Why don’t they send you into the field?” Gabby asked.
A melancholy smile that hinted at some sort of trauma played across his face. Something had happened to Markus.
Gabby couldn’t help but go into full emotional-support mode. “Well, you look exactly like every spy I’ve ever seen on TV. Theyoughta get you in the field stat so you can be out there making them look good.”
That earned her a quiet chuckle. “If you’re ever in charge, give me a field assignment. I’ll take it.”
Gabby made a sympathetic face. “In the meantime, please accept my condolences on being so hot, Markus.”
He rolled his eyes, but she earned a real smile. “Stay focused. We’re shooting.”
Was Markus too hot or too black? The EOD looked like a country club in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, except for Markus and Valentina. It made a person wonder.
He handed her a black handgun. “This is a Glock nine.”
The weight of the gun in her hand sent shivers of excitement up her spine. It was a drug, and she wanted to feel like this all the time—important and dangerous. Markus shouldn’t be cooped up in this building. He should be out in the field, using all those muscles and skills. Instead, it was going to be her.
“Use your dominant eye, close the other. Line up the sight closest to you between the goalpost sights at the end of the barrel.” Markus demonstrated, and she mimicked him.
“Aim for center mass. Don’t overthink it, just get a feel for the gun.”
Her heart pounded with the feeling of the cold steel in her hands and the image of herself as a secret agent. The EOD had recruitedher. She was at spy training learning to shoot a gun. Ready to take out the Russian mob. She pulled the trigger and—
She jerked, and the gun fired high. Shocked, she didn’t move her finger but squeezed harder. The “pop-pop-pop” of more shots echoed through the room. It was the sound of bullets hitting metal. Gabby looked up to see steam spraying out of a pipe overhead.
“Damn it, Gabby!” Markus looked at the path of her bullets and shook his head. “I’ve never seen that happen.”
An alarm went off, the kind with flashing lights and noise. Her ear protection was the only thing saving her hearing from a wailing siren in a concrete room.
Gabby deflated like a waving Gumby in front of a tire store. She exhaled hard and sank down against the wall. So much for her Super-Agent Gabby Greene fantasy.
