Page 19 of Owning Nicci

Vengeance. Power. Blood.

Everything I need to take back my life. One of the tools to do just that is in my hand, and I can’t squander this chance.

A shiver runs down my spine again, a different one this time. I straighten my shoulders and nod. “I’m ready.”

Savio moves behind me, leaning over my side as he shifts the gun in my grip, showing me how to hold it. His larger hands over mine, moving my fingers, and then one of his hands drops to my left hip, tapping it as he starts to explain how to adjust my stance.

There’s a rush of blood through my veins, my heartbeat pounding in my ears, and for a moment, I don’t hear him. I’m suddenly, viscerally aware of how close he is: of the heat of his body behind mine, the strong, muscled lines of it, his long fingers curled around my hand and his other hand on my hip. I can smell the cedar and orange scent of his cologne, feel his breath on my ear, and I feel a sudden, unwelcome jolt of arousal.

He could bend me over right here. Pull down my leggings and fuck me—see how many times I can hit the target while he’s inside of me.The fantasy is sudden and abrupt, uncomfortably real. I try to shake it off, but the sudden slap of Savio’s hand against my hip startles me out of it.

“Pay attention,principessa,” he snaps. “Or am I wasting my time? I thought this was what you wanted.”

“It is. I’m sorry.” I bite my lip, adjusting my stance.

“I’m sorry,sir,” Savio snaps, and I have a different fantasy—one of turning around and burying the gun in his stomach as I pull the trigger, over and over again.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I repeat instead, shoving the thought far, far down.

“Let’s try actually shooting now,” Savio says, taking a step back. “We’ll see how you do.”

Not well, at first. The gun feels large and clunky in my hands, and I have trouble getting used to the recoil. I’m nearly hit in the face with it the first time, but after what feels like an eternity of missing, I hit the target, right in the shoulder.

Savio chuckles. “Well, that won’t kill anyone. But it would certainly hurt them.”

“Hurting them is what I’m after.” It comes out before I can stop myself, and I set the gun down, turning to look at Savio. His eyes are narrowed as he looks at me, and he walks forward, closing the distance between us as he reaches up to press a finger against my lower lip.

“You’re a bloodthirsty little thing.” His finger sweeps over the curve of my mouth. “I have half a mind to tell you to get on your knees for me now, here. But we have other things to do.”

He takes the gun out of my hand, motioning for me to follow him. Back at the locked cabinet, Savio slides the clips out of the guns, stows them away, and relocks the cabinets that they’re in. I watch as he pockets his keys, something that feels like hunger sliding through my veins.

He leads me back through the door out into the hall and further down it, into another room. This one is large and almost empty, the floor covered in thick mats, with boxing equipment at one end and a rack of weights at the other, in front of a large mirror. Savio closes the door behind him and stands in front of it, eyeing me with a look that’s something close to amusement.

“You’re skinny,” he observes. “Like you don’t eat much, but haven’t worked out in a while. So let’s see how you do.”

I narrow my eyes at him. Once again, everything about his demeanor is terse, almost clinical. All of the hot lust, the barely leashed desire that I felt in him before is gone—he’s looking at me with an appraising look in his eye that isn’t sexual in the least. He’s sizing me up, and I don’t like how it feels.

And then he starts barking orders at me like a drill sergeant, and I forget about feeling much of anything at all, except the burn in my legs and my lungs.

He pushes me hard, ordering me through drills—laps, crunches, and pushups. At one point, when I feel as if I can’t pickmy body up off the mat any longer, I glare up at him, dragging in a tired breath.

“I thought you said something about learning to fight with a knife.”

Savio chuckles dryly. “That was before I figured out just how woefully underprepared for this you are. I said twenty more crunches,principessa. That was five.”

If I could shoot daggers at him with my eyes, I would. “What the hell does this have to do with tracking down the Crows? I’m not going to help you kill them with how many pushups I can do.”

The corners of Savio’s mouth twitch with amusement. “And what do you think happens when he doesn’t come quietly? When he goes after you instead of me, because you seem like the easier target? When you need to fight your way out of a situation? Weapons won’t always get you out of a tight spot,principessa. You need speed. The ability to think and move quickly. To be strong enough to fight back and quick enough to get away. A bullet or a blade won’t always be what saves you.”

He looks at me keenly as he speaks, and I have a sudden flash of curiosity. I wonder what might have happened to him, or what he might have seen, to make him say that. I know nothing about him, except that he seems to have had a fractious relationship with his brother, one that devolved to a point of hatred.

And then that curiosity flees as Savio’s expression hardens. “Are you defying me,principessa?” he asks when I don’t immediately start the exercise again. I let out a sharp breath.

“No. I’m trying not to pass out.”

His lips press together, but he gives me a few more breaths before he barks out instructions again. It feels like a momentary reprieve, and I’m surprised that he gave me one at all.

Maybe there is a heart somewhere in his chest, buried under all that ice. But regardless, I still plan to drive a knife through it at the end.

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