It’s your turn, Drake. Don’t let me down.
The predatory look that shadows his gaze promises me he won’t. I have less than a second to wonder if maybe this man might be more than I can handle, before he turns away and strides down the long hall to the opposite end of the house without another word.
And I follow.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DRAKE
Cha Cha waits for me, her perfect behind perched on a flat rock while I set up the lesson I had planned before she pounced on me this morning. The image of her actually launching into my lap stays with me as I tack paper targets to the stands that are set into the ground behind the house.
“You said you’ve never shot before.” I keep my back to her as I work, knowing the whole idea still freaks her out.
“I’ve never held a gun,” she confirms.
“Good to know.” At least that gives me a starting point.
Cha Cha seems as determined as me to see through this current course of action I’ve set us on. That keeps us both going. The bratty display at the end of her speech back in the house is something I tuck away to address later. Right now, all I want to do is make sure she learns to handle a gun safely, and aims well.
Everything else… If she has confidence after this, maybe she’ll be less scared if I can’t find this fucker and put him down.
Not the job I thought I’d be doing, but a call from an old friend I used to work with in the military who knows showbusiness gave me a lead. He seems to know Cha Cha’s manager too, which helps in my planning. Not that Cha Cha needs to know my intentions just yet. Right now, we’re two satellites orbiting each other, but not colliding.
Not yet.
“Stand up.” I stride back toward her, extracting my own hand gun. “This is loaded.” I work through the parts of the weapon, letting her feel the weight, explore the safety, eject the magazine. Once she’s got the feel of it and the precaution measures, we start moving on. “You’re not going to fire it just yet, okay? That’s your target.” I stand beside her, pointing out the iron sights on the top of the gun.
“It feels like a long way away.” Cha Cha’s hands waver.
“It’s about thirty yards, so it’s within range. Line up the front post and the rear notches until the point on the target that you’re aiming for is in line.”
Cha Cha frowns and closes an eye. I tsk.
“What?” she asks, annoyance creeping into her voice. “I’m doing everything you ask.”
“Keep both eyes open. You’ll end up with a skewed line of sight, or tunnel vision if you close one, as well as fatigue.”
“Oh. Sorry.” She bites her lip and lowers the gun, keeping her arms straight as I showed her. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You’re doing great, princess,” I say softly. “You’re up to the easiest part, and the hardest. Feather the trigger. Don’t pull it. It’s a hair trigger, so it doesn’t take a lot.” I eject the magazine, and we get a few rounds of practice in with the empty weapon. “Ready to pull the trigger?”
“No?”
I grin. “You’ll be great, Cha Cha. I have faith. Let’s get you lined up.”
Her body is tiny against my larger frame as I tap her feet out slightly and adjust her grip. Soft breaths come faster, too fast, when I thumb the safety down with her.
“Drake—”
“You’ve got this, princess,” I murmur, tucking her body tight into mine. “We don’t have to fire yet. Just breathe.”
“You want me to breathe?” She laughs, a derogatory sound aimed at herself that I hate.
“Yeah, I want you to breathe. With me, princess.” I inhale and press my elbows to her sides, hoping she’ll get the hint and do the same.
A soft breath fills her chest, and, before I can berate her for holding on too long, she releases that and takes another.
“Good, princess. Let’s go again.”
