Page 59 of Enforcing the Rules

We stayed for hours until I could load and unload the magazine with my eyes closed and hit the target dead center.

Finally, I unloaded the Glock, and he took it from my hands, locking eyes with me.

“What’s the most important rule you need to follow?”

“Don’t point it at anyone until it’s absolutely necessary to save my life.”

“Good answer.” He dipped his head and kissed me. “Enough lessons for one day. Let’s get a beer.”

We went back into the clubhouse and sat at the bar.

“Prospect,” Utah called. “Get me and the lady a beer.”

The only other men at the bar were Darko, who I’d already met, and a younger, attractive guy.

Utah lifted his chin to him. “Kate, this is Baja. Baja, Kate.”

“Nice to meet you, Kate. Any woman who can put up with Utah has got to be okay in my book.”

I grinned.

Utah didn’t think it was so funny and slugged him in the arm. “Drink your beer and shut up, asshole.”

Darko looked over at me. “So, you a crack shot yet?”

“Good enough,” I replied with a smile. “As long as they stand as still as a tree, anyway.”

He chuckled. “The rest will come. Don’t worry. Besides, a man finds himself staring down the barrel of a gun, usually gets real still in my experience. Usually, they raise their hands and start beggin’ for their life.”

“That so? You point a gun at many men, do you?” I tried to joke, not entirely sure it was a joking matter.

He grinned. “My fair share, darlin’.”

Memphis walked in, and we all turned. He jerked his head at Utah.

“Sorry, babe. I’ll just be a minute.” Utah kissed my forehead and walked off. They stood near the fireplace across the room and talked quietly.

I took the opportunity to pull my phone out and text my father.

ME: WHERE WERE YOU LAST NIGHT? YOU NEVER SHOWED.

I slipped my phone in my pocket, knowing it may be hours before I get a reply, if at all.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Utah—

“I found something on that low-rider.”

I stared at Memphis. “Okay. Spill.”

“Belongs to a guy who sells dope on the east side. Mostly he works out of Colorado Springs, but he’s been known to drift down this way. Name’s Ruiz Montoya.”

“What kind of drugs?”

“Cocaine, mostly. Some heroine. Pills to the younger kids. I rode over to talk to a friend I have in Colorado Springs from my Nomad days. What he had to tell me was eye-opening.”

“Yeah? How so?”

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