me right away. Here, come with me.” He pulled her off the counter. “I want to show you something.”
Back at the field office, they took an elevator to a lower level. It opened up into an underground five-lane shooting range that lit up automatically when they walked through the heavy soundproof door. A glass case to the right of the door held rows and rows of semi-automatic and automatic rifles. She didn’t know much about them, just that they looked rather ominous. To the left of the door, floor-to-ceiling cabinets and drawers lined the wall, probably housing all sorts of weapons. Dom reached into one of the drawers, ran his finger over the contents inside, then, evidently finding what he was searching for, he pulled out a small yellow ammunition box.
She was just about to say that she didn’t have her little Ruger, having lost it after shooting the two Darkbloods, when Dom magically produced it and handed it to her. “Come on. I want to see what you’re made of.”
After donning eye and ear protection, she situated herself in lane two, the one she always chose regardless of the gun range. With a full magazine and the target in her sight, she kept her knees loose and stilled her breath, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to focus on the human-shaped target. Dom was too close. He disrupted her concentration. “Do you mind?” She jerked her head to the side. He complied, shaking his head in amusement.
Aware that he was watching her, she squeezed off rounds, hitting the head of almost every target.
“I’m impressed,” he said a short time later when several magazines had been spent. He handed her another. “Let’s see how you do when they move.” He pressed something on a side wall and a row of square targets sprang up along the back of the range. They moved side to side and up and down like a carnival game. She shot one round after another, pausing only to load the other magazine until her arms felt as if they would fall off and her dominant eye began to see double.
“That’s not really a target pistol, but you’re a hell of a shot.”
“Thanks.”
“Here. Come sit with me.”
After visually checking the gun for rounds, she set it down, peeled off her gear and walked over to him. He pulled her onto his lap. “It makes me hot to see you shoot like that.”
“Everything makes you hot.”
“True.” He pointed to a small metal ammo box. “Listen, I want you to use those when I’m gone.”
“What is it?” she asked as she lifted the lid. Just a bunch of normal-looking bullets.
“They’re silver hollow points. I want you to have both magazines loaded with these bad boys.”
Did he think she was in danger here? “But—”
“Just as a precaution. As a sweetblood, your gun should always be loaded with them. But you and I both know you are not to leave the loft, right? Here. I can’t load them myself without gloves. You do it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
MACKENZIE PADDED DOWN the hallway of the loft in bare feet and stepped into the kitchen. She had tried to sleep, but Dom’s bed seemed so big and empty without him. Maybe a cup of tea would help. She put on a pot of water and rummaged through a few drawers until she found an impressive stash of teabags. Yes, chamomile.
After pouring the boiling water into a mug and adding the teabag and some weird natural sweetener she found in a cupboard, she walked back to the bedroom and noticed her phone was vibrating with a text message. She picked it up. Corey.
Fun last night. Do it again soon.
She punched in his number and smiled when she heard his voice. “Hey, Corey. Just got your message. You’re up late.”
“Yeah, well, Vanessa wanted some ice cream. And you know me—I live to serve.”
She laughed and took a sip of the still-too-hot tea. “I could tell you were going somewhere. Hey, thanks for having dinner last night on such short notice. It, ah…meant a lot to me.”
“No prob. It was fun. You guys seemed pretty into each other. That doesn’t mean you’re planning on dumping him soon, does it? Oh, that’s weird…” His voice trailed off as if he was focused on something else.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. Just some idiot behind me. He pulled a U-turn after he passed me and now he’s tailgating me. Like, big-time. So you’re not going to pull another family curse excuse