Page 34 of Whatever It Takes

I’m embarrassed.

I’m hurt they didn’t come to me directly, but I thought a lot about it last night. It was obvious something wasn’t right between me and Jameson. I just hadn’t had the chance to address it, because it would have upended my living situation. There’s also a big chance I swept a few questionable behaviors under the rug since I assumed everyone at Shadow Security would be on his side, and I couldn’t stomach the thought of losing my job on top of everything else.

Plastering a fake smile on my face, I shrug. “Apology accepted. Now, after this, I have one more place I’d like to visit if you’re open to it?”

He nods, running his thumb over my cheek. “I’m good to go wherever you need to go.”

My silly heart races.

It might be underhanded to use his guilt to get my way, but I’ve learned a lot over the course of my lifetime, and I know one thing—if I don’t look out for myself, no one else will.

Chapter Fourteen

Keir

There was an obvious disconnect between where I assumed Briar would ask to be taken and where we end up.

It takes a lot of slow breathing to regulate my system as I step up behind her in our lane at the shooting range. Little does she know, Easton has one on his property. There’s also the practice range at the Shadow Security outfitting warehouse, but she likely doesn’t know that exists either.

We’ve already gone over the three stances that I was taught way back when my dads taught me how to shoot. Then we went over drop and trigger pin safety, how to check each model for a click-off safety, the proper way to determine if a gun is loaded, and how to reload.

There’s very little left, outside of letting her actually take some practice shots. Everything in me wishes she would just trust me to keep her safe.

Omegas are supposed to be cherished and protected. She should never feel so vulnerable that she needs to pick up a gun and handle a problem herself.

That’s what alphas are for.

We’re meant to be the jacked-up beasts that coddle and protect our counterparts.

“Do you have a preference out of the stances I showed you?” I ask from behind her.

She nods. “The tactical one you showed me last.”

“All right,” I agree. “Ear protection on, pick up your weapon, and find your stance.”

The urge to hover immediately behind her is strong, but she has no idea how to balance against the recoil.

I step back and to the side of the lane.

My chest fills with pride as she keeps the Glock pointed down range as her head tilts.

The guy behind the desk kept pushing the Walther PDP, and Briar gave it the grip test, but she went for the Glock.

Not that the PDP is a bad gun.

It’s light but snappy.

I don’t give a shit what the sales guy said. Less weight to the weapon leads to higher recoil, especially in inexperienced shooters. If she hadn’t made the choice herself, I would have gently guided her in the right direction.

“Go on.” I give her a nod that I doubt she can see. “Whenever you’re ready.”

She sighs heavily, steps forward, and sets the gun down. Technically, if it’s not in her hands, I’d like to see her pull the mag, but she turns toward me, sliding off her earmuffs.

I tug mine off in return, even though I’d probably be able to hear her speak with them on.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Every individual who picks up a gun feels that way the first time. The way you gain confidence is through practice.” Pushing off the wall, I come to a stop at her side. “You wanted me to bring you here for a reason.” I quirk an eyebrow, stretching out a hand to tease over her cheek. “I will do everything in my powerto protect you when I’m around, but having faith in your ability to keep yourself alive is an entirely different feeling of security.”

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