“Yeah. That’s probably a flaw, but who wants perfect? I answered your questions, but you didn’t answer mine. Where are you set up?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“A couple of reasons. One, that curiosity again. Second, as a cop, knowing I’ve got a woman who carries habitually? I’d like to know if she can handle what she carries.”
“I’m an excellent shot.”
“So you say. I could tell you I can tango like an Argentinean, but unless I demonstrate, I might be lying—or exaggerating.”
“It’s doubtful every Argentinean can tango.”
“Like one who can, then.”
“If I demonstrate my shooting skills, will you leave me alone?”
“Well, now, Abigail, I can’t make a deal like that. I may have to come back. What if a gang of extremists tried to abduct you? Or aliens. We’ve got any number of people around here who’ll swear about those aliens—the E.T. kind, I mean. In fact, Beau Mugsley claims he gets abducted twice a year like clockwork.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Not according to Beau Mugsley. Don’t get him started on anal probes. And putting that aside, you’re an intriguing woman.”
“I don’t want to be intriguing.”
“And see that? Now you’re just more intriguing.”
“And if there’s intelligent life on other planets, I hardly think they’d spend their time attempting an abduction on someone who’s minding her own business.”
“You never know, do you?”
She simply didn’t know how to argue with someone like him, someone who made nosenseand was so damn affableabout it. Add in the tenacity and the cop curiosity, she determined she was stuck.
“I’ll satisfy your misplaced concern about my target-shooting skills. Then you can go.”
“That’s a good place to start.” He noted that she laid a hand on the dog’s head before she turned. “Ma tells me your dog speaks French,” Brooks said as he fell into step beside her. “I took two years in high school, mostly—okay, completely—because the French teacher was hot. Smoking. Not a lot stuck with me, but I had two years of gazing at the hotness of Ms.Gardner.”
“Studies show adolescent males often make decisions based on sex. Many fail to grow out of it.”
“Can’t really blame us for genetic makeup. That’s an impressive setup.” He paused to study her target area.
Where he’d expected a couple of circle targets, she had a trio of police-style silhouettes on draw pulleys backed by thickly padded boards. Ear and eye protection sat on a wooden bench along with spare clips. By his gauge, she had them set at a good fifty feet.
“I don’t have a second pair of ear protectors or glasses,” she said as she put them on.
“No problem.”
He stepped back, pressed his hands to his ears as she took position.
Cop stance, he noted, and she took it in a smooth, practiced motion. She fired six rounds without a flinch, then holstered her weapon before pulling the target in.
“Nice grouping,” he commented. All six center mass, in a tight, damn-near-perfect pattern.
“As you can see, I’m an excellent shot. I’m capable.”
“No question of that,” he said as she picked up her brass, dropped them in a bucket. “Mind if I try it out?”
She didn’t answer, but took off the ear protectors and glasses, passed them to him.
She looked back to where the dog sat, patiently waiting. “Pillow.”
