Page 23 of Savage King

"That's what I thought. Let's try a S&M, M&P nine millimeter first." I nod to myself, that should be a good choice.

I sit her down on one of the barstools and open a drawer. There she is. I smile. I haven't used this gun in a long time. I reach for the cool metal, loving how it fits between my fingers without being heavy. I pull the slide back to make sure it's unloaded, then do the same with the empty magazine. Even unloaded, I still like the feel of it.

I hand it to Scarlet. Tentatively, she wraps her fingers around the grip panel with her finger on the trigger. "Don't ever put your finger on the trigger unless you mean to pull it," I advise, positioning her pointer finger flat above the trigger. "You need your other hand to support it, here," I take her free hand and shape it into a cradle, very aware of the contact between our skin, the closeness of her body.

Then I place the hand holding the gun into the cradle, bend her left arm slightly, and straighten her right arm out. "Here, this is your front sight, and this is your back sight. Align these two toaim. Ready?" I wait for her nod, then move her pointer finger to the trigger. Pull."

A soft, anticlimactic click sounds out. I nod, satisfied. "That's all there's to it."

She turns in the chair, the gun pointing at me, and I gently push it down, "Don't ever point a gun at someone you don't want to shoot, even if youthinkthe gun is unloaded."

"Okay," she nibbles on her lower lip.

"What's wrong?"

"I thought you were going to show me something that would make me feel better," she admits.

"Ah, passerotta, we're just warming up to it."

I've never helda gun before. It's shockingly comforting in a strange way. The metal is cold in my hand, and the grip panel is rough to ensure it won't slip through my sweaty hands. And they are sweating. I'm nervous as hell. Not only because of the gun, but because Antonio is standing so close to me. Close enough that I can feel his warm breath caressing my neck.Caressing? You've read too many smut novels, I call myself out.He's only breathing, like people do. Caressing. A snort reverberates through my head. Did I just snort at myself?

The gun isn't as heavy as I thought it would be; it’s astonishingly easy to pull the trigger, and the light click that follows is like a letdown.

Antonio must be reading the disappointment on my face, because he surprises me once again with his caring, "What's wrong?"

"I thought you were going to show me something that would make me feel better," I admit, biting my lower lip.

"Ah, passerotta, we're just warming up to it."

I don't know why he's calling me a little sparrow, but I like the way he says it. His voice is already deep, but when he speaks Italian, it adds a musical note to it that makes me crave more.

With a grin, he ejects the magazine and opens another drawer, extracting a new one. It takes me a second to realize that this one is loaded with bullets. It should scare me the way he handles his gun, a loaded gun. But it doesn't. It fascinates me. His strong, practiced fingers work nimbly, and it’s fucking sexy when he slaps the magazine in with a louder and more satisfying click than I got from pulling the trigger.

"Now, I think this will make you feel better." Not letting go of the gun, he carries me over to the other side, which is divided by cubicles like you see on police shows on TV. He puts me on my feet. Standing behind me, he aligns the gun in my hands again. I feel his breath by my ear, and something hard, something I know isnota gun, pokes my back. Everything about this situation should be off-putting. I remind myself he is a mafia boss, but the more I do that, the more it excites me. I don't see Antonio the mafia boss, I see Antonio the man. Which is scaring the hell out of me.

"This time, you will feel a kickback when you pull the trigger. Don't worry. I've got you."

I'm not worried, I'm turned on beyond belief, and I'm curious. Holding this gun is making me feel more powerful than I ever have in my life.

The wall across from us is several hundred feet away, and markers on the right and left indicate the distance. Antonio brings a paper target forward with the touch of a button until it's ten feet away. He reminds me to align my front and back sight and to pull the trigger whenever I'm ready.

I've never handled a gun before. I've seen them, of course. I'm a judge’s daughter, and many cops have been around our house, but I've also seen the damage guns can do in the reports my dad brings home. I've never had an opinion for or against them, but now that I'm holding one, I see the allure. Even more so, when I pull the trigger and the gun bucks in my hand, surprising me, but Antonio's hands on my arms keep me steady.

Ahead of us, the paper target flutters. I hit it! I didn't hit the black painted form on it, but I hit the paper.

"Good," Antonio praises.

I look at him, certain I'm beaming, because my entire body seems to be on fire. "Can I do it again?"

"I would be disappointed if you didn't." He grins back.

We align ourselves, and I fire off another shot.

"Good, now it's all you." Antonio steps away from me. He's still close, but not right behind me, and that feels… disappointing.

But the lure of shooting is greater. I empty the entire magazine into the paper target, and wordlessly, Antonio hands me another and shows me how to reload. I thought hearing the click when he pushed the magazine in was satisfying, but doing it myself isa whole other level. I feel like a total badass. Like one of those heroines on TV.

Antonio brings in the paper target and shows me that I hit it eight times.

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