Page 100 of City of Wind and Lies

"Your birthday."

Her brows furrow together. "But that's not til Saturday?"

"So?" I shrug a shoulder.

"Bow-ie," she chides. "We're already going to the Bahamas, the trip is more than enough. I don't need anything else."

I plant my palm on her thigh, giving it a squeeze. "Just let me spoil my girl, okay?"

She twists in her seat, wrapping her hands around my arm and resting her head on my bicep. "How about you just tell me and I'll act surprised when we get there?"

"You're ridiculous."

"But you love me," she muses.

"I sure fucking do."

"Please," she lifts her head and juts out her bottom lip.

"Mhmm, you know I love it when you beg... but no."

"Fine," she sighs in defeat, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms across her chest.

We shift into an easy conversation, talking about what all we need to do before we leave for the Bahamas on Friday after Thanksgiving. Getting away from the city and who we are here will do us both some good.

Punching in a code at the new gate, I drive up the paved road to the hangar and continue past the building to a newly constructed area in the back corner. Wren's nose scrunches up as she looks at me in question, but I don’t say anything as I shift the car into park.

My lips tug up in a smile as I get out of the car and go to open her door. She takes my outstretched hand, and I lead her toward the gate door. "Close your eyes," I instruct over my shoulder.

She blows out a breath and her long lashes flutter against her cheek as she obeys.

Pulling open the cedar door, I guide her onto the concrete footpath that winds toward a small structure.

"No peeking," I admonish as I see a sliver of baby blue peering around.

She lets out a giggle as she clamps her eyes closed again.

I move her in front of me, settling her hands on the metal case that's laid out on the wooden bench under the overhang. Leaning forward, I whisper into her ear that she can look now.

"What's this?" she mutters as she undoes the latches and flips open the lid. Then she gasps, spinning around and throwing her arms around my neck, crashing her lips onto mine.

"Thank you!" she squeals, turning back to trace her fingers over the custom rose gold Sig P365.

"A promise is a promise, Passerotta."

The Sig is damn near tiny in my hands as I pull it from the case. I wanted Wren to have something small that fit her hands well and she could carry with ease. Starting with safety, I go over the gun and how to properly hold and fire it. I place it in her right hand, adjusting her fingers before having her interlock her left hand for support.

"Keep your wrists and arms straight, but don't lock out your elbows… good. Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to fire."

I kick my foot between hers, widening her stance and settling my hands on her hips. "Don't let the shot surprise you. Pull the trigger smoothly when you're ready."

Wren tilts her head, aiming the gun down the range at the paper targets Rocco set up, and fires. She wince's slightly at the crackle of the gunshot echoing around us.

Her shot goes high, clipping the edge of the paper nowhere near the bullseye, but hey, at least she hit the paper. I slip my hands over hers, adjusting her grip and steadying her hands so they’re pointing the gun at the center of the target.

"Try again," I encourage.

She fires again, this time hitting the thick outline of the first circle. "That's it, Passerotta," I praise. "Keep going."

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