Page 51 of Devil's Own: Roughneck

“Wow,” Gia says, which hits me in the gut because I want her to have everything she wants. But a home like this has to cost a million or more. She stuns me, though, saying, “This would make an awesome vacation home.”

“Vacation home?” I ask.

“Well, yeah. It’s pretty, but it’s not homey like our place. I love sitting outside in the backyard with you around the firepit. The trees and mountains—it’severything.”

“I think this place is everything.”

She shakes her head. “Really? You’d want to live here full-time? I like having neighbors. I like living just a street over from Aja and two over from Dusty. Each yard is fenced in and safe for the littles to play in.”

Knowing that she feels that way about our place, there’s no way I’d want to live anywhere else. “Nope. I love our place.”

She lifts her gaze to mine and what those eyes say—fuck. I lean in to kiss her. The smell of salt in the air and the taste of Gee on my lips, a man could do worse.

When we walk inside, Danni has an Argentinian spread made as acongrats on the dischargefor Cut and me. They waited for us to get here before digging in. And having eaten her food before, I know it had to kill them to wait. Call me a sadistic bastard, but the thought makes me laugh.

Gee has me sit and then walks over to the table where all the foods are laid out to make both of us a plate. Damn, it’s good shit, too. But honestly, I’m most looking forward to eating one of Gia’s meals again. I know if I asked, she’d make me her pot roast tonight. But I’m selfish and my brothers would demolish that too, just like they’ve done with Danni’s meal.

After dinner, while I’m recovering from a food coma on Carter’s white, leather sofa, Gee leans her body against mine, resting her head on my shoulder. It’s a damn comfortable spot to be in.

“I’ve never shot a gun before,” she says low just to me.

I turn my head to look at her. “Yeah?”

“I’d like to learn.”

“You would?”

“Both Dusty and Danni know how. I think it puts me at a disadvantage, makes me a liability not knowing how to shoot. For protection. There may be times when you aren’t home that I might need that skill. A gun in the hands of an untrained person is dangerous.”

“He’s got a private beach. Want to go out now?”

“You want to teach me?”

“Did you think you’d learn from someone else? Told you in the hospital—I take care of you, babe. Any and every way possible.” Then I look to Carter. “Carter, Gee wants to learn how to shoot. I’m taking her outside. Where you want us to practice.”

He raises a thick, brown eyebrow that I swear looks manicured. He’s got one of those pretty boy faces the women go wild for. The only scars on him are covered by clothing or marked on his soul. “Where the fuck do you find these women?” he asks. “You got a sister?” he asks Gee.

“Nope. I got a brother.” She points to Vlad. “But he’s already married. Sorry about your luck.”

“No shit—Vlad’s your brother?”

“Guilty,” he says. “And no offense, but you’re not my type.”

The room erupts with laughter, but Carter stands to show us the best place to practice on the beach. He has targets set up. Actual targets set in front of a thick, block wall. Inside his own personal gun range.

I put the muffs over Gia’s ears after explaining all the parts of the gun, showing how to turn the safety off, and teaching her how to aim. Gee lines up her shot and fires. She not only hits the target, she hits one off a bullseye.

“Again,” I order. And fuck me, she does it again. Each shot hits the target. Each damn shot. The woman’s a natural. It looks like we need to teach her how to shoot a moving target when we get home. But she beats me to that idea.

“It’s harder, right? To hit a moving target?”

“It’s harder,” Carter says, and we both turn around to see my brothers, the Raider brothers, and the women watching Gee.

“The other building,” Roscoe says in his thick country twang. From what I’ve been told, the man got the nicknameRoscoethanks to hisgood ol’ boydemeanor. A tall, bearded, thick-necked, cornfed good ol’ boy. Sarge says he was their sniper. “Carter keeps a practice field for us. It’s got five rooms and the targets pop up and duck at random. It’s a fucking sweet setup.”

Gee turns to me, her eyes wide and bright with excitement. “Tell me we can go there.”

“Lead the way,” I say.

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