Objective (Bloodlines #2)(20)

“What’s the happy dance for?” As always Bentley appears out of nowhere, scaring the ever living crap out of me. My precious coffee spills all over the front of me. I turn slowly and glare at him.

“Honestly, a little warning would be useful.” I gesture to the spilled coffee on my shirt. His eyes sparkle with amusement and it irritates me.

“You’re so angry all the time. You know that?” he muses.

“Maybe it’s just you. I wasn't angry till you showed up,” I volley back.

“Aww, you know, you might be right,” he grins.

“I usually am,” I huff and pass him.

“When you come back out, I’ll take a mug too,” he says, and smirks at me. I really want to strangle this jerk. He is so intrusive. I charge into the trailer and back to my bedroom and strip off my shirt. I tug on a new one and refill my mug on my way back outside. I do not get Bentley a mug. As I stomp down my stairs and plop into the chair I had plans of relaxing in the first time around, Bentley stares at me, mouth hanging open.

“You plan on catching flies?” I quip.

“You really are a rude bitch, you know that?” he shoots back. Inwardly I smile at his reaction. It feels nice to have caught him off guard for a change.

“Finally! I get through to you!” I laugh. A real hearty laugh. The lines in his forehead smooth out as he watches me laugh. I can’t help but notice his face go from shocked to warm and soft.

“I was actually just coming over to see if you wanted to come with me to the shooting range today.” This catches my attention and I stop laughing abruptly.

“Why?” I question.

“You’re always so jumpy. I thought maybe if you learned to handle a gun you might feel more...safe.”

“Why would you assume that I don't know how to handle a gun?” I ask carefully.

“I don't. I just know a lot of women feel better after instruction, many go on to buy their own. I’m going. If you wanna tag along, you’re welcome to, on one condition,” he offers.

“Oh? And what would that be?” I tease.

“You must fix me a coffee and under no circumstances is this to be considered a date,” he says and narrows his eyes at me.

“That’s two things,” I scoff.

“Fine, two conditions then,” he amends. I take a sip of my coffee and deliberately moan at its yumminess while I think about his offer. I’m going to come face to face with Ezra at some point, so I’m going to have to know my way around a gun. He definitely has the upper hand in that department. But do I want to forge any sort of relationship with Bentley?

“Deal,” I state as I stand to go grab Bentley a cup of coffee. His face registers surprise but I manage to play it off coolly.





*****


When we arrive at the range, or rather the vacant patch of land where Bentley swears it's okay to shoot, he sets his guns on the table and calmly talks me through them all. He is patient with me and doesn’t push me into anything. It’s almost as if he’s taught people before. He’s good at it. I find my heart racing at the sight of the guns though. Real guns. Real, working handguns, laid out on the table in front of me. My mind starts to flash back to the one time I handled a gun like these. I push those thoughts down and try to focus on Bentley’s words.

“This is a 44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun,” he says and then sets it down in front of me.

He talks me through the safety rules and tells me a bit about each of the weapons. Next he coaxes me into picking each of them up, unloaded, and shows me how you would fire them. They are heavy. That’s the first memory that hits me, the weight of it in my hand. Then I feel sort of disgusted with myself for touching them, worried that I’m forever tainted by the contact. The springs are powerful, these things are powerful. I know full well what damage they can do. I’m nervous, but having come this far, I feel I might as well continue to face my fears.

I try the revolver first. Something about it feels a bit less scary than the others. Possibly because it’s the sort of thing they use in old movies. It feels like a cartoon gun, although at no point do I forget that this is in fact very, very real.

Pulling the trigger is harder than I expect. You really do have to apply some force to it. With arms outstretched and hands shaking, I flinch and shoot. There is a loud bang, a flash, I’m jolted back a little and the whole thing takes me somewhat by surprise. I hit the target paper, not that I was really aiming, but quickly want to put the gun down, so I do. My breath comes in short gasps as the memories invade my mind.

“Magnolia...” I can hear him calling but I can’t make myself respond. “Magnolia!” I snap my head up and meet his eyes. Concern etched in his features. I lock my eyes with his and breathe.

“I’m okay,” I manage, “just...just give me a minute.” I count to ten and inhale deep breaths. I manage to compose myself after a few minutes, thankful that Bentley didn’t even bring up what a freaking mess I am. He let me have my space, and continued on like I wasn’t a freak when I was ready again.

We went through the other guns. He told me what they all were but that information went in and straight out of my head. I was spending too much time attempting to combat my desire to just run away. I shot each of them once, then twice, the bangs getting louder along with the size of gun. Each made me feel dirty. I pushed the feelings away. Compartmentalized them into different boxes in my mind. I kept, This is how I bring Ezra down, on repeat in my mind, letting my bitterness, rancor and vengeful thoughts guide me through this.