as I watch her hold the weapon with the hands of someone who’s done it many times before.
“I took a class once,” she says softly. “But it made me nervous because I am so clumsy. I always worried that I’d hurt someone.”
“You didn’t have confidence,” I reply and retrieve two boxes of ammo for the gun, then take her hand and lead her to the firing range. “Which tells me that whomever you took the class from was shitty at their job.”
“Maybe. I was one of about twenty students.”
“I’m not shitty at this,” I inform her as I set up a target, then flip a switch and send the paper with its black outline down the lane about twenty yards. “In fact, it might be one of the things I’m best at. And we can practice as long as it takes to get you comfortable. I want this to be as easy as breathing for you.”
“We could be here a while,” she says with a laugh.
“I have time.” I kiss her cheek, then reach for two sets of eye and ear protection. “Okay, we’re going to start simple. Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“For this round, I’ll load and get you ready to go. But after this, you’ll do it. We’ll also practice doing it quickly. The bad guys won’t wait for you to load a gun.”
“I feel like I’m in boot camp,” she mutters, making me laugh.
“Nah. We’re much more friendly here.” I load the magazine with rounds of ammo, clip it into the gun, and pass it to Ivie. “Here we go.”
I step back to watch her first, to see how much she already knows. Her stance is excellent, feet spread shoulder-width apart, her hands wrapped around the gun, her shoulders down.
Damn, she looks like a fucking pro.
When she empties the magazine, she turns to me.
“I don’t buy that you didn’t do well in that class.”
She shrugs a shoulder. “I didn’t say I didn’t do well. I just didn’t feel comfortable.”
“Okay, let’s build that confidence.”
“How do you feel?” I ask her after we lock up the range and head toward the barn.
“I’m okay,” she says.
“Does anything hurt?”
“My hands are tired. Who knew that squeezing a trigger that much could wear out your hands?”
I knew. But I keep the thought to myself.
“We have one more stop this morning.”
“Are we feeding animals?” she asks as I park by the barn.
“No. I don’t have much for animals here. Just some elk, deer, and the occasional mountain lion or bear.” I wink at her, and we walk toward the barn door, which is also secured with a palm plate.
“It feels like your security might be overkill.”
I turn and look at her, then bust up laughing. “That’s exactly what Carmine says.”
“Your brother’s not wrong.”
“The security is necessary. And right now, I’m damn glad I have it to keep you safe. Come on.”
We walk inside, and I’m pleased to see that Curt is already here.
I converted the barn into a massive gym about five years ago. On this floor, we have a sparring ring and weights. The second floor has treadmills, ellipticals, rowing machines, and bikes.
“You don’t do anything half-assed, do you?” Ivie asks, turning to me.
“No, ma’am. What’s the point in that? Or the fun?” I cross to Curt, who’s already dressed in a simple T-shirt and gym shorts. “Thanks for doing this.”
“Hey, I just work here,” he says with a half-smile.
“What are we doing?” Ivie asks, her brow raised.
“Sparring.”
She coughs in surprise and then stares at the two of us. “The two of you are going to beat each other up? Why do I have to be here for this?”
“No, honey. You and Curt are going to spar. I’m going to coach you.”
She looks back and forth between us. “You’re insane.”
“That may be true, but it doesn’t change things. Now, let’s step into the ring.”
“No.” Ivie crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not hitting anyone.”
“Let me ask you something.” I don’t walk to her, just stand my ground and fist my hands at my sides. “If you’d had some self-defense training, would that asshole have been able to take you out of the office like that? Would he have been able to stick that syringe into you and just walk you out of there?”
“I don’t—”
“No. The answer to that is no. Now, we’re going to make sure that no one has the opportunity to do that again, Ivie. And this is part of that.”
“I don’t want to punch Curt. He’s too