Page 35 of A Brother's Secret

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Amalia…

“You ready for this?” he asked in that gravelly smoker’s voice. I fought not to roll my eyes andlost.

“Why do you think because I’ve never been to a shooting range that I don’t know how to shoot this thing?” I demanded.

“It’s like any skill, practice makes perfect, right?” he asked. I held out my hand and he turned my father’s gun over to me. He let out a gusty sigh and said to me, “All right, let’s see what you can do, first. Then I might have some pointers for you afterthat.”

We were behind the rusting out building and the sun was beating down pretty mercilessly. I wanted to go back into the shade. I wasn’t cut out for dealing with the daystar. I was pretty much a night dweller both by choice and by trade and would much prefer keeping it thatway.

Reaver sat on yet another rusting-out hulk of a car and was grinning at me. I didn’t get the impression that either one of them had faith in my shooting ability, and truth be told, while I knew I was good with a gun owing to natural talent, I’d always popped off under extreme pressure owing to a life-or-death situation. I let out a breath, took aim at the dirty mason jars and bottles they’d set up on a fence post and squeezed the trigger on my exhale.

A chunk flew off the fence post down and to the right. Reaver laughed and I glanced in his direction, a surge of anger and a little adrenaline swirling through my veins. I hated being discounted for being a chick. Like somehow their cocks were a magic wand between their fucking legs. I popped my neck and letting my irritation fuel me, fired off the rest of the shots my dad’s gun held. I hit all of the remaining targets and cleared my throat.

“Heh, not bad,” Trigger relented.

“Beginner’s luck,” Reaver called.

“Shut it, Reaver!”

“Yeah, shut it, psycho!” I calledover.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he said and almost sounded affronted. I couldn’t help it, I laughed.

“So if I’m seein’ this right, you gotta be a little pissed to hit the target?” Trigger asked.

“I guess so,” I muttered, emptying out the shell casings onto the ground and accepting bullets from him, loading the old gun a round at atime.

“Try this one,” he said and brought out a matte black, more modern handgun. “More rounds for one, plus, I think it’ll fit your hands better. I do get the sentiment, though.”

I traded weapons with him and let out my breath slowly, firing on my exhale. The kick wasn’t as bad as the old Colt, but at the same time, it was unfamiliar. I made my shot but didn’t try firing in succession.

“Feels weird,” I said a little self-consciously.

“I bet, but go on, you’re doinggood.”

Bolstered by the lack of ridicule, I took out the rest of the glass that’d been lined up and turned to find the big man nodding and Reaver grinning with a shine of what looked like pride in his icy blueeyes.

“Confident I won’t be blowing any of your balls off now?” I asked.

“Eh, I wouldn’t go that far,” he said and I looked up at him sharply. “Confident you won’t be doing it on accident, though.”

I blinked and asked, “Was that ajoke?”

“He has been known to make them. You know, from time to time,” Reaver remarked from his perch. He was scratching out dirt from under a fingernail with one of his switchblades.

“No. No intentions of blowing your balls off,” I said handing over his gun. “At least not rightnow.”

Trigger laughed and shook his head, “Never figured Data the kind to go for a firecracker like you,” hesaid.

“Are you kidding me? I did,” Reaver said getting up and jumping down from the car’s trunk.

“Dude!” Trigger cried.

“And if I wasn’t curious before, I am now…” I muttered.

“Let me guess, bro. Me and my big mouth?”

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