Chapter Sixty

“You can’t shoot the broadside of a barn,” Dane said as he held up Lena’s untouched target and frowned.

Damn. She’d really thought she’d kept her eyes open that last time. But apparently not.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve never needed to shoot a gun before.”

He wadded up the target and tossed it into the trash can. “Nope. This isn’t going to work. We’ll find something else for you to do.”

She looked at him questioningly. “As in…?”

He pressed his lips together.

Suspicion dawned. Wait. He didn’t want her there when they went into Viktor’s fortress to retrieve her child? Even though he knew how much it sucked to be told he couldn’t be there for Tobey’s rescue?

Oh, hell no.

“I’m going,” she said firmly. “You need every available person to help, and I’m not staying behind just because I’m not up to your standards.”

Okay, it was clear by the lack of holes on the target she probably wasn’t up to anyone’s standards, but still. She squared her shoulders and prepared to fight him on this.

Up until now, she’d gone along with every snotty order and rude comment he’d made, but this was going too far.

“I’m going,” she repeated, making her voice even flatter.

He seemed to rethink and redirect. “Then you’ll have to do better than this, or you’ll just get yourself and possibly someone else killed. You flinched every time you pulled the trigger.”

“I don’t know how not to flinch.” She was getting defensive and her voice had risen to the same volume of his. She didn’t like the idea of putting anyone at risk because she wasn’t ready for this mission, but she needed to be there. “I used to do people’s hair! I’m sorry I’m not used to all this tactical crap.”

She might have tossed the gun at him, but she knew it was loaded, and that was a gun safety no-no.

Samantha and Angel walked up to the makeshift shooting range.

“Guys! Take a break,” Samantha ordered. “Dane, I think Garrett needs you in the kitchen.”

Without a look back, Dane stormed off in the direction of the house. Lena was glad to see him go. He was making things worse. How was she supposed to shoot when he was hovering over her shoulder and criticizing her every move?

“I’m sorry. I’m not good at this kind of thing,” she confessed to the other women. Though it was pretty obvious.

Sam smiled. “The men are not great at teaching us these kinds of things.”

Angel snorted. “I’ve been teaching Colton how to write code. If I can do that, I can surely teach you how to hit a target.” Angel crossed her arms. “Shall we begin?”

Lena nodded with more enthusiasm than she felt.

“Pick it up like you own it instead of the other way around.”

“Okay.” She didn’t know what that meant, but she reached for the gun and picked it up.

“Nope!” Angel yelled, nearly making Lena drop it.

“What did I do?” All she’d done was pick it up. And she’d done it correctly. She’d watched enough movies to know that.

“You flinched when you touched it.” Sam frowned. “Here. Let’s try this.”

Sam took the gun from her, and in a few swift motions she had it broken into a pile of parts. She held up each piece and identified it. Then she handed them over to Lena like a pile of Legos. Soon her hands were full of innocuous pieces of the gun. Then one by one, she put each piece back together to form the original firearm.

“A gun is just a bunch of metal parts.” Sam shrugged.

Lena nodded in understanding. It did feel less intimidating that way.

“Fine,” Angel said. “Pick up the metal parts and aim it toward the target. You’re going to line up the sight on the bullseye. Then let out a breath at the same time you squeeze the trigger. Don’t yank or pull the trigger. Squeeze it in a smooth, firm motion.”

Bam!

Lena felt herself flinch, though she was pretty sure it had happened after the gun went off instead of when she squeezed the trigger.

“Hot damn!” Sam shouted. “You hit it.”

“I did?” Lena squinted into the sun and saw a black spot on the paper.

“Barely,” Angel said with a sigh. “Try it again, and if you flinch I’m going to give you something to flinch about.”

Angel was not very big, maybe five feet tall. She had some killer curves, but was no bodybuilder. Despite the other woman’s size, Lena was certain she could back up her threat with no problem.

Lena swallowed and raised the gun again, hoping she wouldn’t flinch.

Breathe. Squeeze.

Flinch.

Damn it.