Page 55 of Preying Heart
I know why he’s teaching me how to shoot. He wants me able to defend myself should I need it. Besides, he has to be mortified that he got naked last night and I didn’t join him.
“I’ve never held a gun before.” I heft it in a shooting position and point it at him. “Bam. Bam. Am I doing it right?”
“Whoa there.” He grabs the muzzle and lowers it so that it points to the ground. “Never ever point that gun without knowing whether it’s loaded or not. No playing around with your finger over the trigger.”
“Oh, I didn’t know. I was just playing.”
“Guns are not toys.” He sounds way more serious than he had last night while playing pool. “All guns should be presumed to be loaded and you should never rely on the safety to keep the trigger from being pulled.”
I hate being lectured, especially from a sexually frustrated man. Of course, in the past, I never allowed any man to be sexually frustrated. I wasn’t given a choice.
Correction. I didn’t know I had a choice.
“Point taken,” I say, not quite conceding. Usually I back down and never argue with Gavin. He’d only beat me so it’s better to comply.
“Hey, don’t be upset. Most people these days only see guns in movies and bullets flying all over the place, but the hero or heroine is never shot. In real life, it takes only a single bullet.”
“I shouldn’t have been joking around.” I’m completely crestfallen. Here I was, enjoying my one-up position. He wants me, that’s clear, and even though I want him, I’m going to deny him because I can.
I can!
What a concept.
“I’ll go over gun safety with you, but the second rule after assuming every gun is loaded is to point it at the ground or down the range. We’ll be shooting into a canyon that I know no one is supposed to trespass.”
“What if someone is sneaking around back there?”
“Then they’d better run once we start shooting?” Heath’s mouth quirks in a sexy grin. “Okay, Remington, let’s kill those clay pigeons.”
And just like that, he puts me at ease. I’ve learned my first gun lesson, and it’s a serious one. “I’ll be sure to teach the baby not to point guns at anyone.”
“Unless you mean to shoot them,” Heath says. “Definitely not in jest or accidentally. You wouldn’t want him to shoot himself in the foot.”
“Him? What if it’s her?” I pat my board-flat belly. It’s still so early that my only symptoms are tender breasts and slight nausea in the morning. I hope the symptoms mean I’m not miscarrying.
“If she’s anything like her mother, she’ll be too smart to shoot herself in the foot or anywhere else.”
His compliment makes me feel good—empowered. I guess I am pretty smart. I already learned about blockchain and crypto from the videos Heath downloaded for me. He ordered me a crypto hardware wallet, and soon, I’ll be able to make transactions on the blockchain to buy and sell my NFT artwork.
We walk through the forest and climb over a ridge to the end of a rock-walled canyon. Glock follows along, but when we arrive at the shooting range, he takes one look and slinks back the way we came.
“Will he go home on his own?” I wonder if he’s gun-shy due to being in the military.
“He’s smart. He doesn’t have hearing protection.” Heath hands me earmuffs. “Now, let’s go over the parts of the shotgun and I’ll show you how to load. Pulling the trigger is the easiest part. It’s all the rest of it that you have to practice.”
It must take a lot of trust on his part to have me armed and dangerous, especially after he gives me cartridges to load. My shotgun is lighter, but it’s hard to load. I have to bend it, stick the cartridges in, and then straighten it out.
“I can’t get this thing to go straight.”
He stands behind me, places his hands on mine, and easily snaps the gun back in place. Then he shows me how to use the sights and take aim at several targets he’s set up. He braces the gun against my shoulder, but when I take the first shot, it’s like I got punched.
“Ow, that hurt. I didn’t expect it to kick back that much.”
“Not quite like a video game, is it?” He laughs because we’ve been playing shooter games with a plastic gun in his basement.
“I like this better, but I don’t like loading and unloading.” I point to his gun. “How come yours has this lever that pushes the cartridges?”
“It’s a bolt-action Marlin.” He shows me how he flicks a lever to load and unload the weapon. “I’d let you use it, but it’s a heavier 12-gauge and kicks back harder.”
