Page 74 of These Rough Waters

There’s a scraping noise, the same sound the lock makes when the key is put in and my heart leaps into my throat, the door giving and opening as whoever it is makes their way inside. I lunge, aiming at the same time.

“Shit!” Torin grunts, suddenly right fucking there, grabbing the gun and yanking it from my hands before I can fire. He pins me to the wall, my back to his chest, “You’re supposed to be in the bedroom.” He growls.

“I had to use the bathroom,” I manage to get out, heart hammering behind my ribcage.

“Fuck, little doe, were you going to shoot me?”

“Yes,” I admit shakily, “How did you get in?”

“There’s been a spare key to this cabin hidden under the porch for years.”

“Oh.”

He gently lets me go, keeping one hand on me as if to keep me standing upright and when I turn to face him, he’s staring at the gun in his hand.

“No serial numbers,” He muses quietly, holding the black gun in the palm of his hand as he lifts vibrant eyes to me.

“I don’t know what that means,” I say.

He cocks a thick brow, “Here’s another lesson for you, sweetheart, if you’re going to shoot someone, make sure the safety is turned off.”

My shoulders sag, “The safety?”

“You never used a gun before?”

“I’ve seen them used, I’ve never been allowed to fire one.”

“There’s a range on the other side of town,” He places the gun on the table, “I’ll take you there and teach you to shoot.”

“Really?” I gasp, “Even though I was going to shoot you?”

He smirks, “Little doe, if you were going to shoot me, I would never have made it through the door.”

We fall quiet at that, and I feel every place Torin’s eyes touch me and while he stares at me, I look at him. He’s changed his clothes, had a shower if the wet strands of his hair was anything to go by, but he looks as exhausted as me.

“What happened?” I ask.

“I think we need to talk, Maya,” He sighs.

“About last night?”

“About it all,” He steps forward, curling a finger under my chin, “I need your secrets, little doe.”

“I – I don’t–”

“Sweetheart, whatever it is, you can trust me.”

“Nothing is ever that simple.”

His thumb circles on my jaw, “With me it is.”

“What happened last night?” I repeat.

His eyes search my face, looking for something, but what, I didn’t know, “There were men trying to get in here. Three of them.”

Dread sinks into the pit of my stomach, “Who?”

“I don’t know, little doe, why don’t you tell me?”

---