Page 43 of Stolen Rival (The Stolen #1)

PATRICK

Sorcha’s hand trembles, her fingers flexing around the gun hanging by her side.

I grip her elbow and impel her to move forward.

If there was anything to dig her heels into, it’s likely she would.

I understand her reticence. If you’ve never fired a gun, it can be scary.

I hope she never has to use it, but we live in a dangerous world, made more so by my business interests. Shit happens.

It isn’t happening to my wife. Not on my watch, especially after we’ve taken a huge leap forward in our relationship.

If something happened to her… I’d burn the fucking world down, with the perpetrators first on my list. I’d make it painful. I’d make it last. I’d make it fucking agonizing.

“I-I’m not sure about this,” she says, as I usher her into the indoor shooting range set up in the basement of the house. It’s a good place to start, better than where I did, which was out in the open aiming at empty cans of pop.

“It’ll be fine. First timers often talk about a huge adrenaline rush.”

Her expression cries “what a load of crap,” but she follows me into a lane. Gripping her shoulders, I move her in front of me. My dick brushes against her arse and immediately decides there are much better things to shoot than bullets. Unfortunately, it will have to sit this one out.

I nestle close to her, lining my arms along hers, placing my hands over the top of her much smaller ones, and show her how to aim.

I let her pull the trigger a few times while the pistol is empty so she can get a feel for it.

I’m enjoying this close encounter. The way her breath hitches every time the trigger clicks, the habit she has of sticking out her bum as she takes aim.

The scent of her, not a trace of perfume, wafts up my nostrils as she flicks her hair out of the way.

She’s put a spell on me, and I am not looking for a cure.

“Ready for bullets?”

She glances back at me, eyes wide. “Real ones?”

“Yes, real ones. So be careful where you’re aiming. No shooting my dick off.”

Her gaze drops and she licks her lips. “I would never.”

My lips twitch. “Even unintentionally. You’re new at this. Just keep the gun facing away from me and toward the target.”

Peeling the gun from her fingers, I show her how to load it and how to change the magazine when it’s empty. I place ear defenders around her neck and do the same with my own.

“Remember,” I say as I get into position behind her again, our bodies so close, nothing could come between us.

“There will be a slight kick when you fire, although less with a .380 than you’d get with a 9mm.

We’ll progress to that firearm when you’re more proficient.

Now, keep your arms locked and your hands steady. ”

“Are you going to stand this close the whole time?”

“Yes, until you feel more confident on your own. Why?”

“No reason.”

I’m not a smirker, so I’ve no idea why I am, in fact, smirking. I move my lips to her ear. “Do you like the feel of my body fused against yours, mo mhuirnín ?”

“It’s okay, I suppose.”

I bark a laugh, taking a nibble of her lobe while I’m there, thoroughly enjoying the full-body shiver that runs through her.

“Right, aim at the target.” I tap underneath her extended arms until she’s right where I want her. “Good.” I put her ear defenders on her ears and do the same with mine, raising my voice so she can hear me. “Now fire. Remember, you’ll get a little recoil.”

She squeezes the trigger. The gun goes off. The bullet ends up nowhere near the paper target at the end of the lane.

She drags off her ear defenders, and I’m pretty sure she stamps her foot. “Damn. I’m no good at this.”

“It’s true. I expected you to nail it the first fucking time you shoot a gun.” I roll my eyes. “Have some patience, woman. Now put your ear defenders back on and go again.”

She huffs but does as I ask. By the time she’s emptied the magazine, I count one bullet on target. Not bad for her first time.

“Reload. We go again.”

She shifts her body weight, turning to face me, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “You were right about the adrenaline.”

“It’s oddly thrilling, but don’t forget, it’s also a deadly weapon and should be treated with the utmost respect.”

“A bit like you.” She grins and nudges me with her elbow.

A laugh sets in, and when I start, I can’t stop. “You are…”

“Amazing. Incredible. Funny as fuck.”

“All of the above. ”

She cants her head. “Well, would you look at us? The peace treaty is holding up pretty well.”

I tip up my chin. “Reload.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

Fuck .

I grip her chin and plant a hard kiss on her mouth. “Behave, Mrs. Mahoney.”

She flashes me another of those cheeky grins that I’ve come to look forward to. They feel like little rewards, a sign that we may stand a slim chance of making this work.

“Focus, Sorcha. You can do this.”

She snaps the magazine into place, takes aim and fires off eight rounds, getting six hits.

“Much better.” Pride blooms in my chest. Only sixteen bullets fired, and she’s already improving. “Well done.”

“Again?”

“Yes.” I hand her another magazine.

Riiiiiinnnnggggggg.

She leaps out of her skin. “What’s that?”

I tear off my ear defenders and toss them on the floor. “Security alarm.” I pat myself down. No phone. Fuck. I must’ve left it in the house. “Stay here.”

“Wait, no. I’m coming with you.”

“Do as you’re told and stay here. I’ll lock the door. It’s safer for you here.”

“You will not lock me in here. I am your wife. My place is by your side.”

“Your place is living and breathing, not riddled with bullets.”

Her nostrils flare, and she plants her feet wide, but I don’t miss the shot of fear that’s embedded in her features.

How must she have felt the night me and my men stormed her house?

Terrified, in fear for her life. Another shot of remorse pulses through my veins, yet no matter how badly I might feel now , it’s pointless.

I did what I did because I had to. Because I had no choice. Brendan McCarthy made sure of that.

But, damn, I do not like that look of fear she’s wearing, one she’s trying to hide behind bravado.

If I argue though, it’s in her nature to dig her heels in, and I don’t have time for the ensuing back and forth.

Once I find out why the alarm’s gone off though, we will be having words, and every one of them will be mine.

“Stay behind me. You do exactly what I fucking say when I fucking say it.” I unlock a cabinet on the wall and remove several magazines that I stuff into my pockets.

“Wait. Give me one of those.”

“Not a chance. You’re not ready to be let loose with a gun outside of here.”

“For God’s sake, stop arguing with me.” She slides her hand into my pocket and pulls out a magazine.

Triumphant, I smirk. “That won’t fit your gun.”

She glares at me. “Then give me one that will. It’s for my safety. I promise, I won’t use it unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

We’re wasting precious minutes we don’t have.

I hate this. Reluctantly, I reach inside the cabinet and hand her one magazine.

She loads it into her gun like she’s been doing this her entire life.

If I didn’t want to put her over my knee and give her a good spanking for the anxiety knotting my stomach, I’d burst with pride.

“You do exactly as I say,” I repeat, adding a firm glare to my spoken order. “Got it?”

She nods, but this is Sorcha. Doing as she’s told must be against her fucking religion.

Keeping her behind me, I open the door a crack and peer through.

Empty. I pick my way up the stairs that lead to the main part of the house.

The alarm has stopped ringing, but that’s normal.

It resets after a certain amount of time.

The ground floor corridor is empty, and I cock my ears, listening for signs of life, or worse, death.

“Can you see anything?” Sorcha whispers.

I shake my head, pressing my finger to my lips.

Indicating for her to follow, I creep down the hallway, heading for the front door.

My main concern is Sorcha’s safety and getting her out of here is the best way to keep her safe.

My brothers can take care of themselves, and the bodyguards will make sure the staff are okay.

One thing is certain. I’m getting a fucking panic room built. Before Sorcha, I didn’t feel I needed one. Now… now I fucking do. I’d give anything to be able to shove her inside, knowing no one could get to her, leaving me free to find out what or who set off the alarm.

I grip the doorknob and?—

“Patrick.”

I whip around, gun out front. Liam’s hands shoot in the air. “It’s me. Fuck. Put the gun down. Everything’s okay. It looks like an electrical surge tripped the alarm.” His gaze shifts to Sorcha. “You gave her a gun?”

“Yes. Begrudgingly.” I take it from her, release the magazine, and put it in my pocket, then hand her the gun back. “Is everyone okay?”

“As far as I know. Haven’t checked the grounds yet, but there’s no breach, so take a breath.”

“Go and make sure.”

He nods, brushing past me and disappearing outside. My shoulders sag in relief, and I reach for Sorcha, wrapping my arms around her and holding her tight.

“You’re trembling,” she says.

She’s right. I am. I have been in many dangerous situations, but I have never, ever felt the kind of fear that coursed through me when that alarm went off, and I thought there was a chance Sorcha was in danger.

“It’s okay.” She buries her fingers in the hair at my nape. “Everyone’s okay.”

Yeah, except I don’t give a flying fuck about everyone. Only her.