“I got my first gun when I was eight.”
“What?”
She shrugs. “It was a BB gun. But I’ve had tactical training since I was twelve. My father may be a backwards misogynistic bastard, but he always wanted me to be able to protect myself.”
Damn.
Lucy stands behind me and again helps me to grip the gun. I try paying attention to her words as she explains how to aim, but I’m so nervous that I miss half of it. I finally pull the trigger, but in glorious fashion, I scream when the gun fires, jump in shock when it kicks back, and nearly drop it.
“For the love of god,” Lucy snarls, prying the gun out of my hands. “You waved that gun in ten different directions after you fired it. That is theoppositeof gun safety, Ella.”
“I hate this,” I say, shuddering. “I don’t think I want to learn how to use a gun.”
Lucy shoots me a pitying look and pats my shoulder. “You fired one shot. Try again.”
I raise the gun, determined to push through my discomfort. I flinch and cry out again as I pull the trigger. Thirty minutes later, I’m barely able to point and shoot without startling and screaming. It’s progress, I guess. But I never even hit the target once. Normally, I’m someone who can push past being uncomfortable, but with this, I just can’t.
“Well, congratulations, Ells, we’ve found something else you’re terrible at. You can’t cook or shoot for shit,” Lucy teases, trying to lighten the mood as we exit the range.
I chuckle, not remotely offended. My friends teased me for years that I was a jane-of-all-trades type of girl. Not necessarily an expert at anything, but pretty good at lots of things. They used to take bets when I would try new things to see if I would be okay at whatever it was or if I would be terrible at it. And more often than not, I was decent.
Too bad my friends didn’t take bets on my shooting skills.
Lucy exchanges a knowing look with Jenkins, who oversaw the entire thing, as we meet up with Zahra in the waiting area.
“Keep your training up, Jenkins,” Lucy says to him. “Because this one might just be hopeless when it comes to firearms.”
Jenkins fights back a smile.
“This is not for me,” I grumble, still shuddering at the memory of the gun in my hands. I turn and look at my trusty bodyguard. “Don’t delude yourself into thinking I’ll be able to protect myself with a gun, Jenkins. You’re really stuck with me now.”
“It’s all good, Ms. Hale. I’ll handle the weaponry. You just learn some basic self-defense and don’t ever evade your security detail again.” He gives me a stern look, and I flush with more embarrassment. So yeah, I wouldn’t have gotten into that trouble with Kyle if I hadn’t skirted my security. “We’re here to protect you, and we will.”
“Who’s going to tell Asher how bad I am at this?” I muse. “Should I?”
Jenkins winces slightly. “That might be best. But I’ll back you up.”
“You mean you’ll tell him I’m the worst shot you’ve ever seen.”
“And that you scream like a little girl every time the gun fires,” he says with a wink.
I bury my face in my hands. “At least it was only the two of you who saw it,” I say, my voice muffled.
“Oh, I saw it too through the window,” Zahra snickers, joining us as we make our way out of the building. “Girl, I don’t even know what to say.”
I let out a chagrined laugh. “I don’t think there’s anything to say. I tried. I failed. And now we pray I never need to use a gun.”
13
ELLA
Five minutes after we step inside Asher’s penthouse, the front door opens and closes.
“Declan!” I say, excited to see him.
“What’s up, future-sister-in-law,” he says, giving me a squeeze. I bat at his shoulder playfully. Declan is always teasing me about how obsessed Asher is with me and how he knows we’ll end up married one day.
“Asher said you’d be here tonight. I told Pierre to make extra dinner if you’d like to stay.”
