Page 32 of Liar

Diego cups his hand, blocking the sun so he can see the bull’s-eye a few yards away, then whistles. “Some bullets are entering the same holes, aren’t they?”

His boss nods as he reloads.

“How long did it take you to master that trick?”

“Years,” is his curt reply. Those damned mirrored glasses make it impossible to gauge Hayden’s mood. It’s challenging connecting to a person when you can’t look him in the eyes. It’s unsettling.

Andintentional.

I ignore him and head over to the rack of guns laid out on a table. After careful consideration, I select the largest weapon—a rifle.

Diego rolls his eyes when he sees my choice of firearm.

“Might as well start out at the top.”

“Go big or go home, eh? But that’s a bullpup with one hell of a recoil.”

“Papi had a rifle, remember? If it was good enough for him, it’s good enough for me.” My gaze drifts past Diego to the man silently reloading his weapon.

“Suit yourself. Take one shot, then we’ll talk.” Diego positions me while offering advice. “Feet shoulder width apart. Legs relaxed. Hips forward.”

I take a stance, exaggerating my movements.

“Jesus, Luciana.” His laughter fills the air. “Not that far forward. Man, your hips can kill.”

Dare I admit how easy it is to make Diego react?

And Hayden? I ignore him, despite being keenly aware of him watching us.

“Align your shoulders to the target out there. Then place the rifle butt here.” With two fingers, Diego taps the small indentation in the ball of my shoulder.

I raise the rifle and position it like so. Feeling powerful, and kick-ass.

“Wrap your fingers around the rifle band. This is how you control your shot.”

I do as I’m told.

“Position your other hand over the grip. Your middle finger should rest fully on the trigger.” Diego adjusts my positioning until he’s satisfied.

“Want the target closer?”

I laugh. “No.”

“Figured.”

Middle finger pressing on the trigger, I’m eager to begin.

“Stop.”

Diego and I both jump. I catch Diego’s frown as we turn.

“That style of rifle’s recoil is fierce. Use a shooting rest. One is set up over there.” Hayden points to the black metal frame set up on the ground a few feet to his left.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” Diego mutters. “Every rifle’s different, and I’ve never fired this type. Why don’t we—”

“Do you use a shooting rest with this rifle?” I interrupt.

Hayden answers with a slight shake in the negative.