Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
“This right here is a Glock 19,” Chuck tells me. “Very easy to use, 9mm caliber, 15 round magazine, great for people who have never fired a weapon before and can be carried concealed quite easily.”
“That’d be great for Nina here,” Gunnar chimes in. “We’re gonna need to get her a concealed carry here soon if she ends up going on any more sketchy-ass app dates with guys who want to rape her.”
“Oh my God,” I groan, covering my face with my hand as Chuck looks over at me, clearly not knowing what’s going on.
“Oh, Nina didn’t fill you in on that?” Gunnar asks him, clearly happy to just put my business all out in the streets. “Yeah, she had some real creepy dickhead try to assault her in a back alley the other night. That’s why she’s enlisted my help to turn her into a real hardcore, Charlize Theron-ass bitch who can handle herself next time she puts herself in one of those situations.”
“Yeah, only I’m not going to put myself in one of those situations again, thank you very much,” I chime in.
“Well, good,” Gunnar chuckles. “Because life’s not a movie, know what I’m saying? I can teach you every trick in the book, Nina, but if you don’t get the drop on one of these guys like you’re John Wick, you’re in deep shit.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, let’s get shooting then.”
“All right!” Gunnar cheers, slapping me on the ass. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
As a matter of range protocol, Chuck has to be the one to show me how to operate the gun before any shooting can take place. He instructs me on how to load and unload the pistol, how to check if a round is in the chamber, and drills into me several times to never ever point the gun anywhere but down-range.
“Always treat the firearm as though it were loaded, understand?” Chuck asks.
“Yes, sir.” I nod. Something about him just makes me feel as though I’m in the military, speaking to a superior officer.
“Now, Gunnar, you wanna show her how to take a shot?”
“Sure, I’ll do the honors. If that’s okay with the range, of course.”
Chuck laughs and steps aside. “By all means.”
Smiling, Gunnar steps up and wraps his arms around me, taking my hands in his. His thick, muscular body presses up against mine, and I can’t help but think about what he looked like naked while I was kneeling on the floor beneath him.
“Okay, so you want to hold it like this,” he says softly into my ear. “This hand on the grip and this hand over the top just like that. There you go. See? You’re a natural.”
His words are soothing, filling me with a confidence I didn’t even know I had. I feel his scruff scrape against my neck as he leans closer. He even smells like dirt and oil or something, like he’s been working on a motorcycle this morning. Gunnar is so far away from the guys in my classes at school he might as well be from another planet.
“Take aim at that asshole right there,” he whispers, moving my hands for me to the target of a guy standing in front of the dirt hill in front of us. “Pretend he’s your date from the other night. Pretend he’s got another girl ready to go out with him and you’ve got to stop him or he’s gonna pull the same shit on her.”
Out of nowhere, a hot heat of rage swells inside of me, and I’m right back in that alley with Brian on top of me, tearing at my dress.
“Keep both eyes open,” Gunnar says. “Look down the sights, align them right on his center mass, then exhale and slowly squeeze the trigger.”
Exhale…slowly squeeze the trigger.
The gun bucks more than I was expecting, and the sound is louder than I thought it would be, but my earplugs help a lot.
“There we go!” he exclaims. “Nailed the son of a bitch!”
“Did I?” I ask, shocked and smiling.
“Take a look!” He gently lowers the pistol and points at the target, to a hole directly in the center of the fake-attacker’s chest. “That looks like a hit to me. How’s it look to you?”
I turn back to him, filled with excitement and disbelief.
“It looks like a hit!”
“You’re goddamn right.” He smiles. “Goddamn, Nina, you’re one badass bitch. Come on, let’s shoot some more.”
“Who’s that? Don’t tell me that’s Gunnar Jones!” A female voice rings out behind us, and Gunnar and I both turn around to see a blond girl standing about twenty feet away. The best way I can describe her would be “tactical.”
She’s definitely good-looking, tan, has an American flag hat on, a gun holster on a heavy-duty belt looped through a very worn pair of blue jeans, and like Gunnar, has a navy green T-shirt on. She has her arms crossed in a semi-confrontational fashion and is glaring at him with pursed lips.