Page 57 of Asher

Oh, yeah.Crap. Rule number one.Marlowe deflated. Chastened, she set her gun on the shooting stand, its barrel aimed down-range, like it should’ve been all along.

The rules weren’t hard:

Always assume every gun is loaded.

Never point the muzzle at something you’re not willing to kill.

Keep your finger off the trigger until you are ready to kill.

Be sure of your target and exactly what’s behind it. Backdrop is part of your target. We don’t kill innocent people, animals, or destroy property.

And lastly, this isn’t Hollywood, and you are not Dirty Harry. Whoever he was.We don’t show off.

But learning how to shoot, while remembering the rules took more time and practice than she had. Marlowe bowed her head and pressed her shaking palms flat on the stand and beside the gun. She was a failure and now, Beau had seen everything. Swallowing hard, she shook her head and told Alex through the fancy high-tech protective earphones clamped to her head, “I can’t do this.”

“Sure you can,” the creep said, butting into her business.

Guess Beau was on the same channel of these earphones as Alex. Marlowe wanted to hit Beau. Why was he coming to her rescue? Tired and exhausted, she barely glanced over her shoulder whenhe put his arms around her. She stiffened, not sure how to react. He had a lot of nerve.

“Here, hold this one instead,” he said, calmly placing a small black gun in her hand. “It’s a midsize Glock23. It’s lighter and, look. It fits your palm like it was made for you. It’s a semi-automatic widely used by LEOs. Shoots .40 Smith &Wesson rounds, so it has sufficient knock down power. Magazine holds thirteen rounds. Best conceal carry pistol in the world.”

Like she cared about conceal carry. But Beau was right, this gun did feel better. Lighter. It did fit her palm. Marlowe held her tongue. And her boot. He was too close to kick, and there was no sense kicking anyone. Yet.

“Now steady…” His muscled body was all around her, but he wasn’t holding her tight. He wasn’t breathing in her ear and his big hands were only guiding her aim. “You’ve got a white-dot front sight and a white-bracket rear sight. They make target acquisition easier for beginners like you, even in stressful situations. I think you’ll find this piece easier to handle. Relax. Take a deep breath. That’s my girl. You’ve got this.”

Oddly, that last comment helped. Alex had said something about snipers and breathing and becoming one with the universe before firing. She liked that symbolism, being one with something. But hearing Beau’s declaration of confidence in her? Made Marlowe believe she could do anything.

She kept both eyes open like Alex taught. Determined to excel this time, she suppressed her breath on her next exhale. Zeroed down range. Aimed dead center of that target and—

Hit. The. Bullseye.

“I did it!” she yelled, turning just her shoulders, not her hands, her new favorite pistol still pointed down range like it should be. “Did you see that? I hit the center of my target!”

Beau stood a step behind and to her side, smiling. Shit, this handsome guy was Doc Fitz’s husband? This tanned, dark-haired behemoth, grinning at her like she’d just won a marathon? Like he was proud of her? Her heart swelled with feelings she couldn’t identify.

“Good job!” He slapped her back playfully. Not even hard. Didn’t sting. Beau wasn’t just smiling at her, he was grinning. So was Alex. These two big tough guys looked pleased with her.

Marlowe turned back around, thumbed the magazine release, and this time, with this gun, the magazine slid easily into her palm. Whew. Feeling like she wasn’t a dummy after all, and—while keeping the pistol aimed down range like she was supposed to, she set the magazine—Alex called it a mag—beside the gun on the stand. Err, pistol. The proper name was pistol. Alex told her that too, but he wouldn’t explain why. Told her she’d have to ask Asher about the difference between guns and pistols.

Beau clapped his hand to her shoulder and said, again, “You go, girl!”

Marlowe swallowed hard. Taking a deep breath, she turned and faced the men. She hadn’t been thinking kindly about either of these guys. Was pretty sure she’d hated Beau back in that cave, but here he was, helping her. Setting her up with a much better pistol. Going out of his way. Being kind and gracious. What was wrong with her that she always attacked first?

She meant to just say thanks, instead she blurted, “No one’s ever told me that before.”

Beau cocked his head. His black brows slammed together like he’d heard something he didn’t like. He stepped in closer. “What’d you say?”

Marlowe wilted. “No, I…I didn’t mean… My parents weren’t…” She bowed her head, ashamed of her life and nothing more to say.

Two gloved fingers forced her chin up to face the man she’d wanted to kick earlier.

“What’d you say?” Beau asked again. “No one’s ever told you ‘good job’? No one’s ever praised you for shining? What the fuck!” He used her favorite word, only when he said it, it hissed out of his mouth like a very sharp knife.

Marlowe winced.Is that what I sounded like when that word blasts out of my mouth? Do I come across that nasty? Oh, my.

“You’re just like me, aren’t you?” he accused. “Just like I used to be. I was an asshole until I found my real parents.”

I’m an asshole?Marlowe didn’t understand. “You ran away?” she asked, her heart pounding at Beau’s vicious tone. She was pretty sure he wasn’t angry with her, but all that venom was certainly aimed at her. “W-were they like m-mine?”

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