Page 84 of Bad Bishop
Baby.
“The wider your legs are, the firmer your core. Now I want you to show me a good, steady grip. Yeah, just like that. You’re ready.”
Evidently, I wasn’t.
My first shot hit the target’s head. My second—his shoulder. The third one got his throat, and the fourth finally got the center of his chest, through sheer luck rather than technique. Tiernan walked me through my many mistakes. He had good input. Too bad I couldn’t concentrate on anything when his body was glued to mine, his hands encasing my own, his scent wrapping an invisible hand around my throat, squeezing erotically.
Desire.
Just like that, I understood perfectly all the Roman legends and Greek mythology stories about empires falling and heroes sinning for lust.
The session lasted for another hour before Jace knocked on the side of our booth.
“Callaghan. You’re up.”
Tiernan nodded and motioned with his hand. A clean target sheet was placed in front of us. This one was rolled all the way to the back, twice as far as the length I trained with.
Tiernan unloaded my gun, emptied my chamber, and handed it back to me. He nudged me aside, the loss of his body againstmine leaving goose bumps across my arms. I stood back and watched as his target started moving, jerking from side to side on its cord. Tiernan raised one steady hand, and in two-second increments, shot the target in the head eighteen rounds with chilling accuracy.
By the time they rolled the target toward us, there were only two bullet holes in the center of the forehead and nowhere else. He basically rammed through the exact same spot over and over again.
“Legend.” Jace slumped against the wall, a postorgasmic look on his face. “Fucking legend.”
Tiernan turned toward him, tossing our earmuffs into his hands. “Out.”
Jace floored it out of our booth.
“What’s wrong?” Tiernan swiveled to scowl at me.
“Why do you think something is wrong?”
“You’ve been staring.”
Blush crept up my cheeks. I was completely taken with a man who did no more than tolerate my presence in his life so my family could help him.
He didn’t choose me. He was forced into this union.
“I’m just annoyed with myself for doing so poorly,” I lied.
Explaining I was daydreaming about him kissing me silly was out of the question.
“Seen worse.” Tiernan unloaded his pistol. “Your brother Enzo couldn’t shoot an elephant if it sat right on top of him.”
I gave him a chiding look.
“You’re lying.”
His stone-cold expression remained stoic. “Why do you think he prefers knives?”
“You’re jealous because he’s good with his hands.”
“And I’m not?”
“I wouldn’t know. You haven’t touched me much.”
His smirk was mocking, amused. “Are you flirting with me, wifey?”
I pushed at his chest, my face unbearably hot. “Hardly.”
