“I took a few wrong turns, but I made it,” I smile at him.
He nods and opens the wooden box. “The pistol hasn’t been used much. It belongs to my son. He used it a few times for target practice before heading out to college.”
He hands me the gun. I inspect it in my hands, pretending to know what I’m looking for. He must see how clueless I am because he asks if I have shot a gun before.
“Never,” I say.
“Well, I suggest you practice target shooting before you use it. You don’t want to learn how to shoot in the middle of a home break-in,” he says. “Thisisfor protection only, right?”
“Yes, of course,” I lie, switching the gun from one hand to the other. The gun is much heavier than it looks. “I live by myself. It’s for home protection.”
“Good, good,” he says. “Well, like I said, you should practice shooting and reloading it. You can probably learn all that in a shooting range. If they have instructors, they can teach you all that and basic gun safety. Guns aren’t toys.”
“I’ll make sure to find a good shooting range,” I say.
He nods. “I’ll give you a few cases of ammo to get you started, but you’ll find out that ammo runs out faster than you think when you’re at the range.”
“I’ll keep an eye out on the ammo,” I say, resting the gun in my right hand. I have a better grip on it with my right hand. That’s the hand that will free me. “Thank you for all your help. I’ll take it.”
Chapter 36
Alex
When I return to San Marquez, the first thing I do is stop at a gun range on main street. The man who sold me the gun is right. I need to practice using the gun so I can use it effectively. It’s a matter of life and death.
I walk into the lobby and ask the man behind the counter if they have personal instructors. “We used to, but not anymore. There wasn’t much demand for instructors,” he says. “Sorry.”
“That’s fine,” I say. I guess I’ll have to teach myself. “Can I rent a lane for an hour?”
“Yes, of course,” he says.
After I pay for the lane, the clerk walks me through a door that leads to the shooting alley. It’s a small shooting range with six alleys in total. A middle-aged man occupies the lane at the far end of the room.
The clerk assigns me an alley in the middle of the room and gives me a quick rundown of the rules. Basically, don’t do anything stupid that will hurt me or others around me.
“Any other questions?” he asks me.
“I think I’m good for now. Thank you.”
“Okay, give me a holler if you need anything,” he says before leaving.
I have no idea what I’m doing, so I do what I always do when I want to learn something new. I take out my phone and bring up YouTube. There are a few other texts from Isabella, but I swipe them away without reading them. I feel bad ignoring her, but I’m sure she’ll ask me why I didn’t attend class this morning. I can’t tell her what I’m doing, and I can’t lie to her, not after everything we’ve been through.
I open up YouTube and search for Glock 19 tutorials. Embarrassed, I conceal my phone so the man using the last firing lane won’t see me watching instructional videos.
This is ridiculous,I tell myself as I struggle to load the weapon. Fifteen minutes and a few videos later, the gun is finally loaded and ready to be fired. I even make sure to remove the safety lock.
“Okay,” I exhale. I put the earmuffs on and aim at the paper target at the end of the alley. The drawing on the paper is an outline of a person with various circles around his chest.
I stretch my arm out, keeping it as steady as I can, and close one eye to aim. I take a deep breath and pull the trigger. A blast fills the air, and the gun recoils in my arm, sending a shockwave up my wrist. Startled, I put the gun on the counter and take a step back.
Even with the earmuffs, the blast leaves a ringing in my ears. My heart is racing.
I shake my hands in the air in front of me to rid some of the numbness caused by the shockwave. Instinctively, I look to see ifthe guy at the end of the alley is looking at me. Nope. He is doing his own thing, unaware of my presence.
“Nice shot,” a familiar voice behind me says. It’s not until I turn around that I realize who it is. He smiles and says, “I thought that was your car parked outside. You’re not planning on shooting my brother, are you?”
“No,” I say, removing the earmuffs.