Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal #2)(55)

When she reached for a particular one that was rather long with a brushed steel finish, Ruslan cleared his throat, stopping her attempt to grab the weapon.

Glancing over her shoulder, she asked, “What?”

“Not the Eagle. It’s got about ten pounds of weight you can’t handle, not to mention the kickback. Something smaller—try again.”

“But I like that one.”

“And I bet you like not having a sprained wrist, too,” Ruslan replied, sounding bored. “Pick a different one.”

Frustrated, Violet turned back to the guns. “Why don't you just tell me which one to pick?”

“Third row down, fourth gun on the wall—all black.”

Violet pointed at the one she thought he meant, looking back to see Ruslan nod. She grabbed the gun off the rack and stepped back, feeling the weight of it in her palms and running her thumb over the grip on the butt.

“It’s a nine millimeter,” Ruslan explained, coming to stand beside her. “Common weapon for police, but it’s also easy to handle, simple to shoot, has good accuracy, and it won’t break your wrist when you fire it.”

She had no clue what he was talking about mostly, but he’d said simple.

She could probably do simple.

“Am I going to just … shoot at that stuff over there?” Violet asked, pointing at the rows of targets set up at the other end of the long warehouse.

Ruslan chuckled. “No. Now, you’re going to learn. Then, and only then, will you shoot.”

Fun.

Violet wasn't entirely sure it would be.

For the next two hours, Violet learned how to disassemble, clean, reassemble, and load the nine millimeter Ruslan had told her to choose. After the fifth time of taking the gun apart, her hands were goddamn tired, and she was bored.

But he just looked at her from the side, his hands still tinkering with a gun he’d taken off the wall, and said, “Again.”

That was it.

Again.

By the tenth time, Violet was starting to understand why. The more she touched the gun, the more she asked about the different pieces and how things worked, and the more comfortable she felt holding it and possibly using it.

She wasn't sure if that was because she understood the weapon—because she didn’t think she understood it at all—or because Ruslan was purposefully desensitizing her to handling it.

Either way, it was smart on his part.

Maybe she understood what Kaz meant when he said Ruslan was a good teacher.

“Shouldn’t I have those ear things and safety glasses on?” Violet asked.

Ruslan looked at her as if she’d grown two heads in the span of seconds. “God, why?”

Standing at the table about seventy feet from the targets made of paper with human-like forms painted on, Violet waved at the gun and bullets. “Because isn’t that, oh, I don’t know, safe?”

“No offense—I mean, take all the offense—but you’re not going to be wearing ear and eye protection when you shoot someone in the face,” Ruslan said, smiling in the oddest way.

“You’re patronizing me,” Violet accused.

“I am. Load the clip. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Still a little nervous, Violet shook the feeling off and did what she’d spent the last two hours learning how to do. It took no time at all for her to fill the clips with bullets and slide it into the butt of the gun until that audible, distinctive click sounded.

Not even bothering to wait for Ruslan’s okay, she flicked off the safety and cocked the hammer.

“Do you want to just stand there and think about it for a while or go for it?” Ruslan asked.

Violet gave him a dirty look. “You can stop that at any time.”

“No patronizing this time. I’m serious. The first time is going to be loud, you might close your eyes, though you should drop that before it becomes a habit, and your wrists might ache a little afterward. Hold it tight, keep it straight, and try not to flinch. That’s all. Take your time.”

Strangely, she appreciated his advice.

And gone from his face was that almost snide smile. He only looked at her, waiting.

“Loud, huh?” Violet asked.

“It doesn't help that we’re inside, but yes, it’s loud. It’ll lessen. The first one is a shock.”

Violet pursed her lips, curious. “How old were you the first time you shot a gun?”

“Ten … ish,” he added, chuckling.

“That seems young.”

“It was. Enough about me.”

Taking a deep breath, Violet faced the targets and lifted the gun to aim, holding it tight with a two-handed grip the way Ruslan had showed her. Still, she hesitated before wrapping a finger around the trigger.

“All the time in the w—”

Violet pulled the trigger, and Ruslan had been right.

Entirely right.

She hadn’t been expecting the volume of the gunshot to be as loud as it was, and it made her both flinch and close her eyes. She hadn’t realized, despite being repeatedly warned to keep a stronghold on the gun no matter what, that the kickback on a small caliber, yet still powerful, weapon would be as strong as it was. Strong enough to bend her wrists back slightly and cause a bit of an ache.

Violet damn near dropped the gun on the table, but somehow, managed to easily set it down with shaking hands.