Page 46 of Vengeful Union

I drive my father’s golf cart down there and park it, heading to the armory. I reach into my pocket, surprised that I still have the key to it.

I unlock it and look at the variety of rifles and handguns my father has on display. I go for my .45 instantly, and the feel of it in my hand is somewhat nostalgic.

Instead of teaching me to throw a ball around, my father had taught me how to handle nearly any firearm.

“Never point at anything you don’t intend to kill,” he always said.

So, I keep the barrel down even as I load it.

I don’t lift the gun until I stand right across from the first target, a bullseye a few hundred yards away. I let out a breath as I aim, shooting five shots into the target.

I point the barrel at the ground again while I press the button to bring the target close.

Five shots, just around the bullseye. I guess muscle memory makes up a lot of firearm skill, because I haven’t fired a gun in years.

I move through the targets easily until I get to the last one, peering down the range to see the human-sized figure at the end.

This has always been the target I have the most trouble with. It’s hard for me to think about killing a person, and that target represents a human being.

I can fight when I need to, but killing? That’s something I’ve never had to do.

I think about Lara, about Scott towering over her, her terrified screams. They’d been so high-pitched, and she’d been fighting him with all her might.

I squeeze off two shots and then lower my gun, hitting the button.

As the target approaches me, I notice two holes, right in the middle of the forehead.

If that had been a person, they’d be dead indeed.

I frown slightly, trying not to think about what that means.

Chapter Fifteen

15

LARA

The next fewdays in the Murphy mansion go by as slow as molasses. I don’t leave the room, and Rory doesn’t so much as come and check on me.

I’m going stir crazy, and I haven’t seen anyone in two days except for Kristina, bringing me her delicious meals.

Finally, I’m so bored on the third day that I venture out into the hallway, only to bump into a woman who’s smaller and stockier than I am.

“Oh,” I gasp, putting my hand to my mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

“No worries. I’ve been meaning to introduce myself.”

She’s wearing a simple pantsuit, looking dressed-up and casual somehow at the same time, with her blonde hair up in a bun.

“I’m Raquel.” She sticks out her hand for me to shake.

I shake it slowly, confused. I thought it was only Bree and Rory in the Murphy lineage.

“I’m—”

“Lara Burke.” She nods. “I’m on your security detail.”

I look at her wide but still feminine frame. “You are?”

---