Page 13 of His Savage Vow
He offers me earplugs that I insert, then leads me over to the range and picks up a sleek black gun. After loading a magazine with practiced ease, he racks the slide. Every movement is quiet and controlled. He hesitates and looks me up and down, taking in the wrinkled pantsuit I had put back on this morning. “You’ll have a new wardrobe by tonight. Luca scheduled the tailor to come take your measurements at noon. Now, are you ready to give this a try?”
I nod, able to clearly hear him through the plugs, and he flips the gun around to hand it over to me.
I visibly startle when he drops the heavy weapon into myhand. Not because I’m scared of the weight of it. I’m afraid of how right it feels in my hand. It’s like grasping onto a little power for the first time in my life. Deadly power.
Maximo steps behind me. Not touching, but close enough that the air shifts, filling my nose withhim. He smells like expensive whiskey and something darker I can’t name.
“Keep your finger off the trigger. Wrap your right hand around the grip. Good. Now bring your left hand around it. Tighter. There.”
I steady my breath, refusing to let him see how badly everything inside me trembles.
His scent continues to fill my nose, and I swallow, gulping the air down as if I might get a taste of him. A shiver runs through me as I get myself back under control. Nothing about him should be even the least bit appealing to me.
“See that silhouette?” Maximo continues. “It’s ten feet away. Aim for the target at the center of the body. There are two bullets in the clip, fire both shots when you’re ready.”
I raise the gun.
It trembles in my hand as if I’m terrified, or eager.
“Breathe in then hold it,” he says.
I take a deep breath. Just one, resisting my earlier urge to inhale the man standing so close behind me.
Then I pull the trigger.
The first shot jerks my arms. The second one rips through the center of the paper target, leaving it flapping, and sending a vibration through my arm that I can feel all the way down to my bones. Instead of fear, something like relief fills my chest. That scares me more than the gun itself.
I lower the weapon, my hands still trembling, and place it on the shelf in front of me. A faint curl of acrid smoke rises from the barrel and stings my nose.
Maximo steps forward and pushes a button that brings thetarget squeaking back towards us on its track. He holds the paper steady and points out the hole my bullet left.
“First one went wide,” he says. “Second one? That was rage. Most people don’t get more stable, but your face flushed, and your hand seemed to steady despite the adrenaline. You might be a naturally good shot.”
I don’t respond. I don’t know how to reply to his compliment, or even how to act in his presence. Besides, it was just one good shot after one bad one.
“I want to go again,” I tell him when I turn around to face him.
Maximo studies me silently before asking, “Why do you want to do this yourself, Constance?”
I don’t even have to think about the answer because it’s so simple. “I want them to feel what I feel.” I want the people responsible for tearing apart my life to fucking hurt.
“Blame me all you want, but don’t ever waste a second blaming yourself for what happened to Robert,” Maximo says.
“What are you talking about?” I huff.
“Your father went into business with me so that he could afford your tuition. He told me you were going to be the first in the family to get a college degree.”
I swallow hard, hating how he just threw all that in my face.
“Your father made his decision, Constance, one to help you because he loved you,” he says. “That’s not something you should ever regret.”
“How can I not regret it when he’s dead now because of that decision?” I exclaim.
“Like I said, blame me. Better yet, blame the men responsible. As long as you know that killing them isn’t going to make that pain or your guilt go away.”
“Neither will doing nothing!” I reply. “Besides, my fatherused to tell me that sharing grief makes it lighter. I intend to share my grief with the men responsible for his death.”
Maximo studies me for a long moment, as if he knows I’m referring to him too, but then he nods once. “Let’s go again.”
