Page 138 of Triggered By Love
“My derelict dad built this as a training range. It’s mine now.”
“It’s quite different from anything I’d expect.” She didn’t have the nerve to ask what his dad did before going to prison. “Do you rent it out or anything?”
“Thought about opening a shooting range someday,” Jason said. “Never had time to deal with the permits and regulations.”
He waved his hands at the tree line. “All that is private land. I could have trap and skeet shooting over that ridge. Build an indoor pistol range, and of course, have this obstacle course for moving targets.”
“Is that something you’ll do when you retire from the NYPD?”
“Don’t think I’ll ever retire,” he replied glumly. “Come, I have a surprise for you.”
He left the human silhouettes moving and jumping in their tracks and led her back to the rental car. What could he be up to?
He popped the trunk and removed a small wrapped box. Dropping to one knee, he grinned and presented it to her.
“What is this?” Her heart catapulted to the roof of her mouth. He couldn’t possibly be proposing marriage, could he? The box was too big, but it could be one of those box-within-a-box gigs. “I should be giving you something for totaling your car.”
“You already have.” He put his hand over his heart. “You gave me your trust. Open it.”
She took the box and hefted it. It wasn’t too heavy, but it was solid. Her pulse racing, she untied the ribbon and lifted the gold-leafed lid.
It was a handgun—the one that fit her hand perfectly after she and Jason tried all of them.
“Your personal Smith & Wesson Shield.”
“I never got around to getting one. Thanks.” She took the gun from the box. The rounded textured grip fit her hand perfectly.
He got off his knees and pulled out the mags full of bullets. “Remember how to load it?”
“Yeah, I’ve got this.” She took the mag and shoved it into the bottom of the pistol grip. “Thanks. I love it. I was so nervous when you got down on your knees.”
“Why? Were you expecting something else?”
“Not so soon, no.” Her face burned, realizing what she’d admitted to. “I’ll have you know I want a long engagement.”
“I’ll promise you long, very long.” His drawl and grin were full of innuendo.
Should she be ashamed at herself? Flirting with this handsome cop while Brando hadn’t been dead a year?
Definitely, yes.
But at the moment, she was shameless, and dang it, she wanted to shoot.
“Let’s shoot.”
“Long and hard.” He lifted the lid to his waterproof pistol case and loaded his semiautomatic. “Let’s shoot.”
For the next two hours, Avery and Jason ran around the barn, shooting at the moving targets. Every time she hit one, she whooped and he let out a Bronx cheer.
“Well, eff you, too.” She blew a raspberry back at him when he pinged off the head of one of the rusted silhouettes.
They were both sweaty and flushed by the time the ammunition ran out. Her arm muscles felt like noodles, and she was panting from the tottering around on stilettos, which kept getting caught in the dirt. She ended up breaking both heels and tiptoeing on her soles, but the shooting had melted her jitters into jelly.
“O. M. G. Oh man, great!” she hollered as her last shot blew the rusted target’s head into a splash of slivers. She flashed him an OK sign and let him in on her secret twin handshake.
Jason gave her the A-OK sign, hooking the two O’s together. “O. M. B. Oh man, badass!”
Chapter Forty-Five
