Mafiosa (Blood for Blood #3)(12)

‘I never thought about it.’ OK, maybe a small part of me had pictured a barn stacked to the rafters with thousands of honey jars, all black-ribboned and waiting for their recipients. In hindsight, that would have been a bit much, even by Felice’s standards.

Nic pulled the drawer from the table and rummaged inside. He handed me a pair of safety goggles. I examined them dubiously. ‘Are these necessary?’ I rotated them in my hand. ‘I didn’t think you guys wore safety goggles when you were out doing family business.’ ‘Doing family business’. That’s right, Sophie, act more like a child.

‘Nah,’ Nic said, handing me a pair of foam earplugs. ‘But maybe for your first time, we’ll take some precautions. Just until you get used to the noise.’

I half wished there were knee pads and helmets as well. I was not feeling confident about my skills. I slid the goggles on to my face. They were way too big, balancing precariously on the end of my nose. I pushed them back and they slipped down again. ‘Noooo,’ I said, colouring my voice with dismay. ‘My face is rejecting the glasses.’

Nic pressed the goggle arms towards each other, so they gripped behind my ears better. I stared at his chest, his alpine scent covering me as he fixed them. ‘It’s because your nose is so small.’ He tapped my nose with his finger. ‘It’s cute,’ he murmured, looking at me beneath those thick lashes of his.

It was hard, in moments like this, not to remember the first time we ever spoke, how he looked at me like I was the only person in the world. How he kissed me like it was the first and last kiss he’d ever have. The Nic I thought I knew – the one I thought I needed. There were shades of that desire inside me still, but I had buried them for a reason. I had to remember why.

Nic was distractingly close to me now and my head was exploding with shouts of Don’t you dare touch him! Step away from the enigmatic assassin right now!

I stepped backwards. ‘Nic,’ I said, chastising.

He held a hand up in surrender, the corner of his mouth flicking upwards in a lazy half-smile. ‘I was just saying.’

‘We’re here to work, remember?’ I slipped the earplugs inside my ears.

‘Yes, ma’am.’ His smile grew. ‘Are you ready?’ I could only half hear him. I nodded. ‘OK. Watch.’

He took two steps forward, planting his feet. Raising his arm, he aimed the gun at the other end of the room and fired off six shots in quick succession.

Even with the earplugs, the noise was relentless.

A bullet hole appeared in each of the first six target heads – right in the middle. He pulled a magazine from his pocket and reloaded so fast I barely caught the movement. The next six holes appeared in the left side of the chest of each of the remaining dummies. The whole thing took less than ten seconds.

Twelve targets in ten seconds. And he hadn’t even broken a sweat. He was relaxed, his expression placid, his breathing slow and natural.

When he was done, he lowered the gun, reloaded it and swivelled to face me.

I gaped at him. If I didn’t think too much about the end goal of his shooting, and only focused on the skill, I couldn’t help but feel awed. It was all so quick and effortless. ‘Your aim is …’

‘Unparalleled,’ he finished, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his features. ‘I told you. Your turn.’

I looked at the targets again. They seemed so impossibly far away now; I could barely see the holes he’d made. ‘Can I move closer?’ I asked. ‘Like way, way, way closer.’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t chicken out before you’ve started. I’ll bet you’ll be good at it.’

I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘No, you don’t.’

He laughed again. It was loud and carefree and giddy this time. The feel of the gun – of shooting – did something to his whole demeanour. It made him happy. Really, truly happy. Beneath all the anger and fear and determination, there was a pinch of something else taking hold of me. It was jarring, that a boy so young could be so maniacally entertained by all of this. Still, this was the boy who was going to help me get what I needed – revenge – and in the moment, that was what mattered to me most.

‘OK,’ he conceded, ‘I don’t think you’ll be an expert on your first try. But I do think you’re very teachable.’

The gun was hot in my hands. I embraced the heat and let the warmth filter up my arm.

‘Don’t fear it,’ Nic said. ‘This gun is your ally. It works for you.’

‘What if I shoot myself?’

‘Have some confidence, Sophie. You’re taking back your power. Stand up straighter.’ He laid his hands on my shoulders and I leant back into them, raising my chin. ‘Good,’ he breathed, his voice against my ear. ‘You’re ready for this.’

He lingered a couple of seconds more than necessary.

‘OK.’ I squared my jaw and locked eyes with the targets. ‘Teach me.’

Nic dropped his hands and came to my side, his attention trained on my stance. ‘Plant your feet.’ The amusement had drained from his voice. This was the Nic I needed. This was the Nic who was going to teach me what I wanted to know. ‘Bend your knees just a little. Good. Now square your shoulders towards the target. Fully extend your strong arm. Now pull the slide back with your other hand.’ It clicked into place. There was a sickening thrill in the sound.