“Let’s go,” I tell her. “I’ll show you.”
Chapter 35
Fallon
Rhys takes the bag of ornaments from me and carries it to his car, careful like they’re full of grenades. With heated seats and warmth from the vents, we drive in cozy comfort. City lights smear in the windows, I’m so lost in thought. I expect I’ll see our building come up in the windshield.
He plans to show me what a boyfriend wants from a girlfriend.
Instead, we head south. Industrial streets swallow the holiday glow, the colors changing from red and green to burnt steel. My pulse jumps when Rhys turns into the garage of a squat concrete building with a faded sign: Gotham Gun Range.
“Agunrange?” My assassin boyfriend’s idea of fun is shooting up paper targets?
Or maybe it’s more than that. The feel of power in his hand. The rush of the kick back. The loud, powerful clap of the bullet discharge.
“I’ve been a member here since I moved to New York.” Rhys kills the engine, and the energy buzzes between us. “This is where I come when I need to clear my head. Of everything.”
That causes a strange sensation to vibrate in my chest. Not fear. Something dark and sultry. We’re not just spending time together, smiling in public. He’s cracked open a secret door to his world and is letting me peek inside.
We take an industrial outdoor staircase to the building’s main level. Inside, the sounds of gunfire echo against concrete and steel. Fluorescent lights hum overhead. The air smells like metal, cold stone, and faint gun powder.Rhys seems taller here. And my skirt suddenly feels too short for the male eyes in this place. My candy-cane tights are a loud splash of merriment against all the serious gray walls. I only want Rhys’s eyes on me, and I only want to brighten his world.
He signs us in, and I flinch when he writes my full name.
Fallon Nova.
I start a quick spiral, wondering how he knows my last name. Then I remember he saw all my pills. And we’ve been neighbors for years. He could have heard it from anywhere.
Calming down, I let Rhys steer me up another set of stairs and into a private room.
“I pay extra for this.” He removes several guns from a steel case he had tucked under one arm and starts feeding them bullets he purchased at the registration desk. “I can’t have an enemy land in the lane next to me with nothing to stop him from putting a bullet in my skull.”
“No!” I gasp.
He gives me an assuring smile. “That won’t happen, love.”
“How many people have you killed?” I ask casually.
He doesn’t answer right away. Just gets the guns ready, checking the slide and crank.
“Rhys?”
“I’m counting in my head.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Aye.” He laughs, “But I served in the military. Did land tours and other ops for the Irish government. Plus, my cousin Griffin didn’t have an easy time taking over the Mob. We had to put a few dogs down.”
“You killeda dog!” My throat tightens. This could be a dealbreaker.
His eyes go wide, and he pulls me in. “Love, sorry, no. It’s just an expression. Dogs mean bad people. I’ve neverkilled a woman or a child, or a real dog.”
“Oh.” I swallow and push my head against his chest.
His heart is pounding like mine.
“I’ve done some good things too,” he says, bringing our eyes together. “I helped my cousin Shane find his cat. And six years ago, I saved a kid with autism after a mass shooting at a place called Leinster House in Ireland. He was stuck hiding from the terrorists.”
Beneath his calm voice, I hear a small hint of how he struggled with these sad events.
