Page 61 of Shadow Dance

“Mhm.”

“That’s funny because I looked there and didn’t see it,” I say. “In fact, I searched the house top to bottom.”

“You’re welcome,” he says.

“Thank you.” I squeeze his bicep, partly because I just like touching him. “But I call bullshit on it being under the couch.”

“Just be happy you got it back.”

“I am, but?—”

“The less you know, the better.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. You sound like my brothers.” I huff, tucking the license into my wallet. “It’s like you all operate from the same script.”

Inside, the shooting range is brightly lit, with a series of paper targets hanging down the lanes. The air smells faintly of gunpowder and metal, and it’s loud. Jaime says he’s not a regular, but he seems familiar with the guy behind the counter. We find a pair of lanes side by side, where he gives me a mini lesson as he slides a pair of earmuffs onto my head.

“Here, these too.” He hands me protection glasses before donning a pair himself. It’s sexy. “Any questions?”

I look at the gun I’m holding, gingerly testing its heaviness.

“It’s a Glock 19,” he explains. “It’s one of the more lightweight guns.”

“It looks like any other gun, I guess,” I say. “Why don’t you go first? I learn by watching.”

Standing with his feet shoulder-width apart, knees and elbows slightly bent, he grips the gun with one hand supporting the other. “You want to be ready for the recoil,” he says.

Bringing his gun to eye level, he focuses on the target, exhales slowly,and shoots. The gun fires with a sharp crack, but his body hardly moves. I glance down the lane, where his target now boasts a neat hole through the center.

“Your turn.”

Licking my dry lips, I attempt to mimic Jaime’s position. Making sure my knees and elbows are loose, and the top of the front sight is level with the rear like he told me, I pull the trigger. Even though I’m expecting the recoil, the brutal force of it startles me. I freeze, adrenaline racing, my arms stick-straight in front of me.

“You okay?” he asks, coming over to my side.

“It hurt a little bit.”

“That happens. Here, get into position again.” When I do, he adjusts my stance gently with his boot, nudging my foot into a more balanced position. “Now bring the gun back up. Keep your arms firm, but don’t tense up too much. Use your core and let your body absorb the recoil, okay?”

I nod, trying to ignore the pinpricks of pleasure beneath my skin as his hands gently correct my form. There’s a sense of quiet patience and confidence in the way he instructs me. It’s reassuring, and by the time I take my next shot, I’m a lot calmer. It doesn’t hurt this time. I’m better prepared for the kick.

I watch Jaime go again, trying to concentrate on his methods and not the subtle play of muscles beneath his charcoal gray Henley. His form is immaculate.

“What do you think?” he asks after we both go a few more times.

“I think you’re really good.”

He shrugs. “I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

“I can tell. You’re like a sexy cop or something in those glasses.” I grin a little, biting my lip. “Are you gonna arrest me?”

He lifts his chin, his eyes flashing before they narrow playfully. “Only if you’re bad.”

“Didyou want to do something special today?” Jaime asks as we head back to Oakland. “For your birthday?”

Before I can formulate an answer, my phone hums loudly from mylap.Callum. It’s difficult to hear him, as usual, over the loud music and voices in the background.

“What?” I repeat, plugging the opposite ear and shutting my eyes, as if sensory deprivation will help. “I can barely hear you, Callum.”

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