Page 80 of Romancing His Heart
Her brow furrows in concentration, and she nods as I describe each piece.
“The thing to remember about the Glock is there’s no safety on the side like you see in movies. On these guns, the safety is a tiny, little lever in the center of the trigger.”
“That doesn’t seem very safe,” she mutters. Wrapping her arms around herself in a hug, she watches me.
“These are standard issue in SIA and a few other alphabet agencies. You always hold it pointing away from yourself and aimed at the ground.”
“Common sense.”
Chuckling, I agree, “Yes, common sense. You’d be surprised how many people lose it around guns. Anyway, this particular magazine can hold seventeen rounds.”
“I thought guns were silver.”
Staring at her, I try not to laugh. “Most Glocks are black.”
“It looks like a toy.”
“Yeah, well it’s a lot heavier than it looks. You ready to hold it?”
“No.”
“Okay, let’s start by loading the bullets. Here,” I say, handing her the magazine.
“Loki, I’m not sure this is the best idea.”
“I just want you to shoot it once. If you don’t like it after that, we’re done, but there’s something freeing about knowing how to use a gun safely. Try it, for me?”
Sloane rolls her eyes but removes her mittens and takes the magazine from my hand. I lay the gun down on the table and watch as she loads the bullets after a quick demonstration.
“Good.” Picking up the gun, I turn it so she can hold the grip. “Take it in your palm with your finger off the trigger and keep it pointed at the ground.”
She does as I ask, and I notice her hands are shaking.
“You’ve got this, Sloane. You’re good. I’m right here.”
She nods but never takes her eyes off the weapon in her hand.
“What if it goes off by accident?” Red’s voice wobbles and catches on her words. She’s terrified.
“Take a deep breath, sweetheart.” Placing my hand over the top of hers, I repeat myself, “Deep breaths. It won’t go off because you haven’t pulled the trigger yet. We’ll take this one step at a time,” I assure, but her little body is trembling under all those layers.
“Sweetheart? I’m going to stand behind you, okay? I’m going to help.”
She nods aggressively.
Stepping in behind her, I wrap my arms around her body. My right hand cradles hers as it holds the gun. Tipping her hand, I expose the left side of the grip and show her the release.
“Good. Now, see this?” I say, pointing to the lever between the slide and the grip, “this is the slide stop, and this is the slide here,” I say, pointing to the top of the gun.
“Yeah,” she squeaks.
“You’re going to pull the slide back until it you hear a click.”
Tentatively, she pulls it back, and it locks in place.
“Perfect. Now you can see into the chamber.” Tilting her hand, I show her what I mean. “This way you can see it hasn’t been loaded yet.” I turn her hand in the opposite direction so she can see what we’ve done.
Her breaths are as shallow as mine and tell me all I need to know about her frame of mind in this moment.
