Page 49 of Corrupted Heir (Mafia Kings: Corrupted 1)

Damn it, no one should make my legs feel like jelly like he could.

“It’s a semiautomatic, compact, and easy to conceal. It’s got a thirteen-round extended magazine. It seemed like a good idea, considering how bad of a shot you’re going to be.” Another smug smile. The man was insufferable.

“We’ll see about that,” I said, picking up the gun. I’d seen people use guns plenty of times on TV. How difficult could it be?

I stormed toward the nearest row with a target strung up at the end.

“You might want to load the gun before you try to shoot it,” Dominic called to me, making me swallow back a scream. And I was not blushing. Definitely not blushing.

I stomped back toward him and held out the gun, doing my damnedest to look bored. It felt like I fell about a mile short when he took it from me, released the clip, and made an overexaggerated show of loading each bullet. When he was finished, he slid the clip into place and handed it to me.

Without a word, I stormed back, trying to pull up every gun fact I could recall. Fatal shootings, gun violence, gun laws; plenty of those sprung to mind, but not one useful tidbit about what the hell to do with a gun.Wait!The gun would have a safety on it. I needed to remove the safety or the thing wouldn’t fire. All right, that was something.

I turned to face the target, surreptitiously glancing at the gun in my hands, searching for what might have been the safety mechanism. Next to the trigger was a small circle, like a button. That had to be it.

I pressed it then wrapped both hands around the gun and raised my arms up in front of me. I couldn’t believe I was really going to do this. A week ago, I’d been a veterinarian who was more likely to take part in a march against gun violence than fire a gun in some stupid shooting range. But here I was, and there was no way Mr. Al Pacino over there was walking out of here with that smug look on his face. I would slap that look off of his face if I had to.

I focused my attention on the target in front of me—jeez, it seemed really far away—then squeezed the trigger.

The crack of the gun went off like a thunderbolt in my ears. I flinched at the sound.

When I’d recovered enough to squint at the target, I wanted to curse even more. Not a mark. The bullet hadn’t even grazed the outer edge of the target.Shit. Shit. Shit.

I could feel Dominic’s eyes on me, but there was no way I was going to look at him. I didn’t want to see the stupid smug look on his stupid face.

Instead, I stared at the target and raised my arms again.You got this, Moore,I pep-talked myself, ignoring the fact I wasn’t going to be a Moore for much longer.

One breath. Two. Three. I squeezed the trigger, prepared this time for the earsplitting crack, but the bullet made it no closer to the target.Damn it.

“All right, Annie Oakley,” he teased, coming to stand behind me. “How about you let me teach you before you end up shooting me by accident?”

“It wouldn’t be an accident,” I muttered under my breath.

I remained still when he moved in closer. So what if I wasn’t an expert marksman? I’dspent my adult life trying to help things,nothurt them.

When he positioned himself right behind me, his arms on either side of me and his chest pressed against my back, tingles shot through my whole body. And it seemed with him standing so close, he was using up more of the oxygen in the room, making me work harder for every breath.

He leaned in closer until his lips were right next to my ear.

“Breathe with me,” he whispered, and the sound traveled right through me, settling low in my abdomen.

I closed my eyes and tried to do as he said, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest against my back and breathing in tandem. But it was difficult when I could feel the gentle exhale of his breath against my neck.

He reached out from behind and repositioned my fingers on the gun, making it sit more comfortably in my hands. His fingertips grazed mine, I could feel the roughness of his thumb as it smoothed over mine.

“Just focus.” His voice was a whisper, releasing my hands. “Now… fire.”

As if my hands had been trained to obey him, I squeezed the trigger, trying to ignore everything but the target far in front of me.

A loud crack. The recoil that shot my shoulders back hard into his chest.

I did it!The bullet landed far from center, but I could see the small hole right through the paper, maybe eight inches off from the bull’s-eye in the middle.

Forgetting myself entirely, Iwhoopedin triumph.

“You did it,” he said, hugging me from behind and making me forget all about the target. There was only the heat of his body. The feel of his powerful arms around me. His warm breath against my neck.

“Do it again,” he said, letting go just enough so I could reposition my stance.

---