“And I didn’t peg you for an early riser,” a glance at the clock caged up on the wall read close to seven in the morning, “I imagined you as more of a sleep in, be lazy and annoying toall your friendskinda guy.”
“While I’m flattered you even imagined me”—she scowled—“I value my quiet time, usually in the mornings.”
“First of all, shooting isn’t exactly a quiet sport,” Anika muttered,cocking her hip out. “And second, at this exact range?”
“Looks like it.”
She refused to believe he had randomly bumped into her. This range was one she’d been coming to for weeks and there’d been no sign of him. Neither of his residences were close to here either.
Why?
She had a feeling she already knew the answer; he was investigating her like she was him.
Anika sighed. She conveyed annoyance, which was partly an act—fuel to make him stay and push—but part of it was real. Covering herself with control and the upper ground was what she did best. This…
This was seceding, giving in to tempt him to come closer. A soft smile was itching to show itself, but she resisted, needing to feign exasperation to spite him. Instead, she decided to push a little bit. “Seems like fate is telling me to ask you to be my teacher then, huh?”
She didn’t miss the flicker of surprise in his eyes as they widened slightly before settling back to mischief.
“I’d hate to intrude like that,” a lie most likely, “especially since apparently this isyourgun range,” he said to mock her questions from earlier.
“Don’t tell me a big wig like you is nervous, Romanov.” A taunt.
A vein in his neck twitched at the use of his last name, but he bit at the metaphorical lure regardless. “Charity work hardly makes me nervous.”
Heat flared in her chest as she tapped her fingertips on her hip and counted out the seconds she required to reign in her ire.
Mikko noticed.
Before she could change her mind, she stepped aside and gestured for him to come closer.
Bending to retrieve his bag from where he dropped it, sheunabashedly watched him. He didn’t look like he belonged here, instead, his physique boasted morningsandnights at the gym, yet…
“Eyes on the range,” he said, catching her stare before moving into her space. “Distractions leave room for mistakes.”
“‘Distraction’ wasn’t the word I was think—”
“Bring the target closer,” he interrupted with a smile, slipping eye protection on.
Anika pursed her lips, but did as he asked. She pressed the button on the side, a mechanical whirring audible as the large sheet of paper came closer. The automated track had the target fluttering in the wind as it neared her station.
As soon as it was close enough to grab, Anika released the button and let it settle. Mikko’s observant eyes combed over the lines of the silhouette, noting the holes she’d riddled it with.
Most were concentrated in the chest, the larger surface area appealing to most since it made it easier to hit the target, especially if they were moving and unpredictable. A few littered around the outline of the head, but too many were scattered outside the thick black outline.
Imperfections. Miscalculations.
“Better than I would’ve anticipated for an accountant,” Mikko quipped before ripping the paper down.
“I’mnotan accountant, I’m a financial data analyst.”
“Right.” He drew out the word as if accepting her response for her own benefit. As if there wasn’t a difference. Maybe to him there wasn’t, but it irked her that he didn’t believe her rebuttal.
I should use this twat as a target.
A disgusted huff left Anika’s lips as she hung up a new paper target. Once it was securely in the clips, he nodded for her to send it back out. “Put it out at about fifteen yards.”
Again, she did as she was told. A rarity Mikko didn’t even know hewas in the presence of. Once it had settled, she glanced over at him as if to say,“now what?”