Page 56 of Captive of Outlaws

“I’m serious—well, partially.” Rob drops away from me. “A bow like this isn’t just a weapon. It’s a piece of art, a tool of precision. It’s not for cowards who’d rather spray you with bullets. It’s elegant.” He flashes another smirk. “And in the hands of someone like me, it’s downright deadly.”

I roll my eyes. My forearms are aching a bit with the weight of the...weapon? Machine? I don’t even know whatto call it. “Can we get on with it, please? I’m about to pull a muscle here.”

The thingisdamn heavy, and I bet I look absolutely idiotic wielding it. Plus, the target seems alotfarther away than I remember from the first time I laid eyes on it. That, plus the gathering twilight dusk, make it just a tiny bit difficult to see.

Except, by the same token, it’s also kind of beautiful out. The air feels warm but not muggy, the sky a bright, almost lavender, blue against the crowns of the pine trees. For once, the forest doesn’t feel foreboding and creepy. It just feels...pretty. Calm. Safe.

Though that may have something to do with the hulking piece of weaponry in my hands.

“Fair enough.” Rob grins and takes a pull of his beer, gesturing at the bow. “Those parts there are your limbs—basically the muscles of this beast. They store up all the energy that’ll come loose when you pull the trigger. Then there’s the string”—he points—“which propels the bolt. And the trigger, where the magic happens. Now just—”

“Look through the scope and let ‘er rip,” I recite. “And never point it at anyone.”

“Exactly,” he says, then raises his voice. “Unless they’re dumbasses and refuse to get out of the way!”

“We’re getting, we’re getting,” Tuck yells back from the other side of the range, and the two of them hustle to a safe distance outside the marked lanes.

“All you, pretty lady.” Rob gives me a salute. “Fire in the hole!”

I hoist the crossbow as best I can, trying to remember his instructions—but I don’t have to. With deft, sure fingers, he taps me where I’m meant to squeeze, where I need to keep myshoulder level, and where to look, and that’s all I need.

I pull back, and—

Zing.

The arrow rockets forward and buries itself in the target.

Not the center, mind you. Not even technically in thetargetportion, but more like the outermost corner.

Still, it’s stuck fast. A direct hit.

“Damn,” mutters Will behind us.

“Hell yeah!” Rob hoots with delight. “She did it, boys.”

“Knew she could.” Tuck is beaming.

“Holy shit,” I mutter. “I actually did. I hit the...thing.” I press my hand to my forehead. I feel stupid and giddy, like a kid who’s just nailed a high score in skee ball or something. But it’s genuinely exciting. “Sorry. Words. I’m just honestly shocked.”

“Trust me, so are we,” Will drawls, but the half-smile on his face is more playful than mocking.

“Speak for yourself,” Rob says. He squints one eye at me and points. “I knew she had the look of the huntress about her.”

“Totally,” Tuck says. “She’s got a good eye. Hey—cheers.” He lifts his bottle, and Will and Rob follow suit.

I set the crossbow on the ground, realize I have nothing to toast with, and, on a total impulse, grab Will’s bottle and take a huge swig.

Rob’s eyes go wide. Tuck sputters with laughter on his own beer. And I grin triumphantly, darting just out of Will’s grasp as he lunges for me.

“What in the—okay, very funny, greasemonkey. Give it back.”

“Oh, you want this?” I dangle the bottle, tilt my head. Will’s mouth firms into a hard line, one that barely resists thesmile that’s threatening it.

Then I stick out my tongue and take another swig. “Catch me first.”

Maybe it’s the power of firing a giant crossbow into a target. Maybe it’s residual adrenaline from the showdown at Jimmy’s. Hell, maybe it’s the one sip of lager just now. But for some reason, I feel playful. Easy. Lighthearted.

I jump back just in the nick of time as Will grabs again.

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