Page 42 of Cruel Debts (Killers of Port Wylde #4)

THIRTY-SEVEN

LIAM

"Absolutely not."

"But Liam ? —"

No fucking way. I wasn't about to give in this time. I wasn't Asher. I was not teaching Trinity McCoy to handle a fucking gun.

"It's not happening, Trin." As if following me around the kitchen would solve her problems, or make me cave, she turned it into her personal job. Every time I stopped, she did, too. And sometimes she didn't, causing a pileup that never failed to aggravate me.

On the third time around the dorm as I tried to remember what the hell I forgot I was after, I stopped dead in my tracks, spinning on Trinity with a scowl that had cowed grown men in the military.

"Trinity fucking McCoy, just get it out of your head. I'm not teaching you how to handle a gun?—

"—so what you want to do first is get a handle on the weapon's feel in your hand."

I couldn't believe it. Not only did I cave, but I agreed to skip a gym day to teach her how to handle a pistol.

To be fair, she made a good argument. It wouldn't hurt her to have some sort of self-defense in a place like this, and considering she'd already put her hands on mine, it might have been smarter if she knew how to actually use it instead of just pretending.

When she decided to sit on me for dinner, I could either give in or be embarrassed. The choice was simple, if only to save my dignity.

"Like this?" She tilted the pistol in her hands back and forth, testing the weight it held. "It's not that bad. Yours was heavier last time I?—"

"Yeah," I said slowly, my hand reaching out with the clip in my palm. "This is where a lot of that weight is."

She took the clip and put it in the gun, and a frown blossomed across her face. "Oh, you're right. This is much heavier now."

My nod was blank. "Right." I hadn't had to teach someone how to handle a gun in a very long time, and it wasn't one of my stronger skills.

Handling them myself, sure. Using them to end someone from a million feet away?

Sure. Assembling and disassembling them with ease?

You bet. But I didn't really need to teach others the skills.

There were drill sergeants for that shit. They could learn from them, like I had.

The last person I taught to hold a gun properly was?—

Keehn.

You're kidding, man. You've never held a gun, and you're in the military? That's embarrassing. Here, let me show you how to actually hold that thing, so the others don't make fun of your city boy ass.

I channeled the things I told him, the way I approached my bonded brother in arms, and redirected them on his sister, hoping the two were similar enough to make it work.

"Okay, so now, what you wanna do is aim down the sights on top, and close one eye, get an idea of how it feels to line that shot up—" I heard the empty click of a dry fire and sighed. "You're not supposed to fire yet."

Her face turned a nice shade of pink. "Sorry. I got excited. But I thought we just loaded it?" She stared at the thing like it was damaged. "How come the bullet didn't come out?"

I pointed to the little red clip on the side. "That's the safety. And yours is still on, thank god. That means the bullet won't engage until you flip it to the other direction." My brows furrowed. "Not yet, though. Please leave that until I tell you to."

"Ugh, fine." Good lord, with a put-upon sigh like that and the epic eye rolls she pulled on a regular basis, it was a wonder her parents hadn't strangled her ass yet. Probably too vital for her to stay alive as the last living heir to choke the life out of.

I could see how she might've tested a man's patience. Maybe Keehn left to get a break.

Har har har.

"Trinity, you're going to have to hold your arms straight when you use it. If you slack your arms, you'll open yourself up for terrible aim and recoil." She didn't correct her pose, so I moved up behind her, guiding her arms with my own. "No, no, like this."

I could feel every inch of her body against mine as I positioned her, but I schooled myself not to react.

Doing so would only make things more difficult.

This wasn't the time to indulge in some stupid fantasies I had no business having about Keehn's sister.

Not with a loaded gun in her hands and impatience the breadth of the Grand Canyon.

"Am I holding it right?" she asked suddenly, her eyes finding mine over her shoulder. "I feel like I'm not doing it right."

Her fingers were too high on the handle. "Move these down a bit," I said, nudging them with my pinky. When she did as I instructed, her eyes lit up, and she turned back to the gun, to the target, and wriggled in my embrace.

Wriggled like a fucking worm on a hot concrete pad in summertime.

"This feels much better, Liam!" Her laughter and excitement were contagious, infectious, and there was a brief moment where I imagined her as a plague, infecting me and the others. Digging into our DNA.

By the time we were too sick to do anything about it, she'd be a part of us. Getting rid of her would be impossible.

"Steady your breathing," I demanded, forcing my chest against her back. "Breathe with me. In. Out."

Feeling her breathe with me, when I'd instructed her to do just that, shouldn't affect me so much.

It shouldn't make my knees weak. It shouldn't make my cock twitch in my pants.

But something about the way it felt so right, like we were in tune with one another on a whole new level.

It made me wonder about other ways in which we might be perfect fits for each other.

Would she fit against me like this if I fucked her? If I gave in and let her into my bed? Would she clench around me when I slid home inside her, the perfect fit on my dick? Would her soft sighs complement my grunts and groans? Would she?—

"Liam?"

I shook myself from the thoughts swirling in my brain and returned to her, my mind scattered at the most inconvenient time. "Yeah?"

"How long are we supposed to breathe before we actually get to the shooting part?"

Impatient.

Just like her brother.

Come on, Sentry! I wanna shoot the damn thing already. Why do I need to know how to take it apart and reassemble it if the goal is to use it? Who cares if I'm fast?

Always eager to get to the end.

"Okay, Trinity, this is the part where you must pay close attention, okay?

" Steeling myself for the recoil I'll feel through her body into mine, I shifted a foot to the back and twisted my hip to absorb most of the fallout.

She'd likely panic when the gun kicked, like every first timer, and I'd have to steady her.

"You wanna take a deep breath, aim, let that breath out, and when you're out of air, hold your breath and press the trigger. "

Her breasts brushed against the sides of my arms as she took that breath, took her aim, steadied herself, and breathed out. I realized belatedly I'd forgotten to have her take the safety off, and another dry fire echoed out around us as she flinched away from the gun before it even fired.

"Shit."

She closed her eyes, sighing in embarrassment. "Oops."

"No, that was my fault. I forgot to tell you to take it off.

I should have said that first." I took the gun from her grip and flicked the safety off, handing it back carefully.

Trinity was no idiot, but she was easily distracted.

So I didn't want her to take her attention off the gun in our hands.

"Make sure to keep it pointed away from people now. Those rounds are live, not blanks."

"Got it," she agreed, holding it much more gingerly than before. "Careful."

"Careful doesn't mean be afraid of it, girl," I growled, lining up behind her again.

This time, I kept my distance a little, my hands reaching around her from a step behind her, guiding her arms where I knew she'd be most likely to hit her target from.

"Okay, now, do just like I said before—breathe in, aim, breathe out, fire. "

Her whole body stilled as she followed my orders to a T. Her chest rose and fell with measured precision, her arms straight and anchored like I taught her. When her finger squeezed around the trigger, I braced for her to recoil, but the panic and flinch didn't come this time.

The bullet, however, did. It shredded through the paper on the far end of the range, and she set the gun down on the stand in front of her gently before tossing her hands in the air so she could celebrate her shot.

"Oh my god, Liam, I hit it! I hit the target!" The excitement was adorable, almost endearing, but all I could focus on was the way her tits bounced as she did, the way that bra did little to contain them while she hopped like a bunny in a little circle, her grin wider than the Rio Grande.

Then her arms fell on my shoulders, and she practically jumped into my arms. I had just enough time to react—in the completely opposite way from what I wanted to—and wrap my arms around her, holding her still against me.

I needed her to calm down. This wasn't a good place to turn into Tigger from Winnie the Pooh, with a spring-loaded tail.

"Trinity, hey, good shot, but can we tone it down? This is a gun range, not a?—"

"I wanna do it again." She was already turned around with her back to me, the gun in her hand again, lined up for her next shot. "I can hit the target better this time."

I didn't have a second to recover before she was popping off the rest of the bullets in the clip. I could only watch as she nailed shot after shot, and while they weren't great, and they weren't bullseyes, they were all on the page, and most of them were inside the man-shaped lines.

There was definitely room for improvement, but as I watched her apply herself and give it her all, I realized that she'd be great at it someday. With determination like that, failure wasn't an option.

I don't know why the thought sent a wave of despair through my heart.

Trinity didn't pay me a single second of attention until she ran out of bullets, and then the next lesson became learning how to load the clip once she'd emptied it.

Putting the little bullets in the slot was tedious, but she did it without complaint, only getting frustrated when the last one popped out of her grip and fell to the floor.

"Oh, shit, I'll get it!" She fell to her hands and knees, scrambling around at my feet until she found the little gold casing. "Here it is!"

And then she looked up at me from her position in front of my feet, hands on my knees as she held the bullet out to me, looking for all the world like some secret little submissive looking for approval from her dom.

And I damn near lost it right then and there.

"Is this the bullet, Liam?" She stood up but didn't move away, and I found myself struggling to breathe as her hand reached for mine and took the clip away.

"I'll go ahead and put it in here, then.

" I watched from a state of shock as she slid the clip home, and then lined up to take more shots.

With every bullet she fired, her aim got immeasurably better.

And my sanity slid further and further down the drain, right along with my self-worth and sense of honor.

Because the only thing I could think about right now was bending Trinity McCoy over this fucking counter, banging her brains out, and then nailing all seven shots in a bullseye to assert my dominance.

And I knew I never would, and that was what hurt the most.