Page 36 of Wanted
Kamila hesitated, but she shook her head.
“Then you need to know how to use a gun.”
“The next thing you know, you’ll be teaching us how to dispose of a body,” Kamila retorted, scowling.
“All in good time,” Jordan murmured as he reached for the firearms he intended for us. Fylox returned from the other side of the backyard, jogging it out. Kamila was staring at him, and ifInoticed, Jordan wasn’t far behind.
Fylox had set up our targets fifteen yards away from where we were standing.
“Who taught you?” Jordan asked nonchalantly while sorting the firearms and checking that everything was safe for us to use. I watched as his fingers worked meticulously. Fylox joined him.
“One of the bodyguards. He took pity on me.” Fylox made a sound that sounded awfully like a snort, and I frowned. Kamila stared at Fylox as if the rest of us weren’t here, and it gave me hope that she could move on from Katantia.
“Which bodyguard?” Jordan inquired while counting the magazines of the firearms. “How old were you?”
“I never knew his name. He didn’t tell me. He had this massive scar on the side of his left arm. I remember him being part of my mother’s detail back when she was alive. He started teaching me how to use one after I turned fourteen. Spencer had just started traveling to the middle east for longer periods, so there was nobody home to supervise me. He might have been my biological father,” I revealed, hugging myself for an ounce of warmth.
“Are you cold?” Jordan asked, and I flinched at the question. The coat he’d given me provided me with kept me warm. It was the memory that left me cold.
I shook my head.
“Words.”
“No, I’m not cold,” I responded, rolling my eyes. Jordan didn’t scold me for my behavior. Instead, he adjusted the sleeves of his black hoodie. Yes, while Kamila and I wore men’s winter coats, the actual men were out here in hoodies. They didn’t even seem affected by the cold.
“While we wait for the results of your examination, Fylox and I can teach you new things. Let’s start with firearms. It’s the first thing Kamila should experience as a tourist of our land, isn’t it?” Jordan commented, and I wasn’t sure if he was sarcastic. His face wasn’t that easy to decipher. “We can also continue Fylox’s workouts. We’ll be careful not to cause Mandy any further pain, of course.”
Pointing it downward, he handed me a handgun and magazine separately. “This is a Glock 19. Show me what you can do with it.”
“How do you know these sort of things?” Kamila asked from behind me.
“I had a good teacher,” I responded, feeling lonely amid a crew that cared so much for me. I inserted the magazine carefully, waiting for the click. When it came, I undid the safety. I pulled the slide back, aiming at the paper target Fylox had set up. Then I pressed the trigger.
I hadn’t done this in a while, practicing shots. In a way, it felt freeing. I had forgotten parts of myself in my time with Manuel. The bodyguard I used to train with disappeared after I turned fifteen, and I never touched a gun again until now.
Jordan explained things to Kamila, who had tons of questions about guns, safety, and their use. I didn’t listen. I took a couple of shots. I emptied the magazine, wasting the ammunition almost. I couldn’t stop. It felt good to have my hands on a firearm. It gave me a false sense of security. Guns didn’t help in the fight against my father. He had thousands of them. His men were trained and bought to serve their one and only.
“She’s good,” Fylox commented when I handed him the handgun and the empty magazine.
“I didn’t know you could do that!” Kamila exclaimed. Her fingers were trembling, but it wasn’t because she felt cold. “That was scary but impressive.”
“Now it’s your turn,” Jordan told her, and she let out a sound that resembled a squeal.
Her posture was perfect. She looked like the princess that she was even without the expensive clothing or elaborate makeup that she usually wore in public back in Katantia. She’d looked more sophisticated with her chocolate hair. Shooting guns and self-defense training weren’t her first choice of after-work activities. She adapted to the self-defense training quite quickly. Still, I assumed that she only did that because Fylox got to touch her body all the time in a non-sexual way, of course, but Katantians… They were a different breed of people.
I’d grown up around weapons of all kinds. My father didn’t touch them, but everyone around him did. Every single bodyguard carried concealed weapons. The only thing my father did was wear a bulletproof vest when people started protesting against his companies’ policies. Every car he drove in was close to indestructible. The mansion and his private offices were regularly checked for bombs and all that good stuff.
Therefore, firearms didn’t intimidate me.
Kamila, on the other hand? She didn’t even want to touch one.
“You can protect me. I don’t have to do this,” Kamila repeatedly pleaded. It was a rare occasion to see her beg for anything. I observed her as her gaze fixated on Fylox, trying to convince the guy to give her a free pass.
He wasn’t having it.
“We won’t always be around,” Fylox said. Kamila let out an audible gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. She had a tendency to be dramatic and overtly honest. That was what I admired about her. She wasn’t ashamed of the things that made her unique.
Kamila urged him, “Don’t even say that.”
