Page 10 of The Stolen Princess
“Why? Because I’m a woman?”
“No, because you don’t seem confident with the weapon.”
Her mouth dropped. How dare he?
“And what gave you that impression?”
“I can just tell.”
Her glare hardened and she raised the gun up again, pointing it at him. “I’m as confident as Annie Oakley.”
Drake shook his head like he had no clue what she was talking about and then he walked forward again, prompting Myka step back.
“Put the gun down,” he said again. “It isn’t a toy.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m well aware that it isn’t a toy.”
“You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Myself?
“I’m being serious,” he said as he took another step forward. He gently raised his left arm as if sudden movements might make her do something crazy. Little did he know it was his slow, patronizing movements that were going to make her do something crazy.
“Give the gun to me,” he said in a soft tone, enunciating every word like she was stupid.
This Drake guy was really starting to get on her nerves. Maybe she should teach him a little lesson. Just a tiny one, for all of the other Annie Oakleys out there.
He took another slow step forward closing the gap so that he was only a few feet from her. “You clearly don’t know how dangerous they can be.”
Oh, now he’s gone too far!
Just a tiny lesson.
Myka’s gaze shifted to the side of his arm and her breath stilled as she pulled the trigger, sending a bullet through the air. Drake yelled out in pain and he doubled over.
A bubble of blood seeped out of the side of his arm.
“You shot me!” he yelled.
Myka gave him a satisfied smile as she lowered the gun. “Igrazedyou. But I could have shot you if I’d wanted to.”
His eyes narrowed in on her with disgust before he stomped off to the pump. “I knew you would hurt somebody with that thing,” he called over his shoulder.
Mykahadshot the arrogant man, and she was proud of it. She’d nicked the side of his arm, hitting her mark perfectly. “You should be thanking me that I have such excellent aim,” she said, following after him. But something about his hard expression told Myka he wouldn’t be celebrating her precise accuracy.
“Thanking you?” he snapped, letting go of his injured arm long enough to pump water. The clear liquid mixed with the blood, creating a mess of crimson everywhere.
The water cleaned his skin off enough to see the wound. There was a quarter-inch gash on his bicep where the bullet had grazed his skin.Grazedbeing the keyword. He was fine. The bullet wasn’t stuck in his arm or anything, and the wound wasn’t deep—definitely survivable. “You’re not bleeding out. It’s a flesh wound.” She straightened and smiled. “It was the perfect shot.”
He shook his head at her. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I want your honest answer. “Are you all there...like in your head?”
A puff of air escaped as she dropped her mouth. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Are you crazy?” he clarified.
Myka was privy to the thoughts inside her head, and yes, she probably was a little crazy.
She raised her eyebrows. “There’s no shame in being crazy.”
