by Selena Kitt
“She totally blindsided us.” Ric slipped an arm around her waist and squeezed.
“Because he was only about five-feet away. Isn’t that what Scarlett O’Hara said?” Annalesa mimicked a thick, southern accent. “‘I can shoot straight if I don’t have to shoot too far’!”
“Guess neither of us won the bet.” Ric laughed.
“So you can both buy me dinner tonight,” Annalesa suggested with a returning smile, glancing at Arensen and then up at Ric. “But right now I’m going to let my courageous rescuer take me down to the range so he can show me how to really handle a gun.”
“I’m not sure you need the target practice,” Ric scoffed, glancing at the pink splatters all over Arensen’s flak jacket.
“A girl has to stay on top of her game.” She wiped a little bit of paint from Ric’s forearm with her fingertip. “Ugh. You’re filthy.”
“Guess it’s time to get cleaned up.” Ric smiled and helped Arensen reach down to pull up poor, still-bleeding Henrik. “I’m not about to keep this lady waiting...”
Chapter 4
“Try not to lock your left elbow when you’re propping your gun-hand up... better. Good.” Ric rearranged her shoulders, loosening her up until she was less stiff. Actually, his presence made her spine straighten and her belly clench. She had to breathe and struggle to let his touch make her relax instead of tighten up in anticipation, but she managed.
When he was satisfied, he stood back again. “Now go.”
She squinted at the bullseye through the yellow protective shades—it was amazing how much they focused her vision—and squeezed the trigger a little more gently, landing a shot just outside the center circle.
Then she turned back to Ric with a grin and he did a slow, deliberate clap.
“Either you kept up your practice—or you’re a natural.”
“I think I’ll go for ‘natural’.” She held down the button to bring the target sheet back to the booth, trying not to look too smug, admiring Ric’s body in a tight grey t-shirt and faded jeans. Even looking at him in the most basic clothes made her want to tear them off him.
She sighed as the target trundled slowly towards them. “They need to speed these things up.”
“It’s on the to-do list—things to fix.” Ric leaned against the side of the booth, arms crossed. “I appreciated what you did back there, by the way.”
“I thought the knife was a little unnecessary.”
“He was right, though.” Ric shrugged. “I hadn’t made a contingency plan in my head for someone turning on me. Now, I’ve got one.”
She nodded, accepting his explanation, but she didn’t like the sound of it. Arensen was friendly enough to her after the simulation, even with all his posturing beforehand, to make her think he was genuine. Or, at least, mostly. Clearly, he cared for Ric, and had served as both a friend and mentor. But there was something about him.
Maybe she was just jealous. Which was silly but kind of true. They seemed close in a way that made her envious.
Or maybe… it was just the feeling that Arensen seemed to be teaching Ric more about distrust than he was teaching him to deal with people who turned out to be untrustworthy.
She did her best to hide them, but her mixed feelings must have shown on her face because Ric put a hand on her shoulder.
“Leesa, he’s a good guy,” he assured her softly. “He’s the one person in my life I’ve been able to go to for... hell, anything.”
She offered him another nod, a little smile, trying to hide her hurt feelings. Because it hadn’t been her. She hadn’t been the one person he could go to for... anything.
But that was her own damned fault, wasn’t it?
“I’m glad.” She put her hand over his, giving it a little squeeze.
“He was really impressed with you.” Ric grinned and dropped her a wink. “Asked why you didn’t go into law enforcement.”
She chuckled, pulling her target from the clip and replacing it with a new one. She pressed another button and the target sheet rolled back into place at the fifty-yard line.
“Did you tell him I don’t do confrontation well?”
“Yeah.” Ric snorted. “But he found that a little hard to swallow, considering you’d just blasted him in the chest.”
“He had it coming!” She reloaded the magazine in the borrowed Heimdall. It clicked neatly into place—a nice, smooth mechanism.
Ric’s eyes lit up. “You do that like you never took a break from it.”
“It’s not hard to look natural.” She smiled at the weapon “It’s a very good gun.”
“Why don’t you carry anymore?”
“You know how it is in Europe.”
“Yeah, yeah... royal subjects, not free citizens,” Ric grumbled, making a face. “That’s the reason Dad relocated headquarters here to Maine.”
“Royalty has bugger-all to do with it.” Annalesa scoffed. “There’s only a handful of countries with a monarchy, still, you know, and they’re all just figureheads. There’s just a big difference in the way we think about guns—it’s a cultural thing.”
“I guess.”
“And a legal one,” she reminded him. “You know, if I carried a gun in England or France or Holland, I’d have to carry paperwork with me everywhere. Not only that, but you know as well as I do—they have stricter standards when it comes to security. I’d have to put a safe in the wall of my apartment. Honestly, I guess I just don’t want everyone to think I’m a paranoid loony.”
Ric’s fair eyebrow cocked at that. “There’s nothing wrong with protecting yourself, Leesa.”
“I know,” she agreed, and she did. She’d grown up around guns and was very aware of the cultural differences. She didn’t judge one way right or the other wrong. “When in Rome, you know? Literally. Ha.”
Ric laughed at that.
“But you have to admit...” she went on. “Anyone I’ve ever needed to protect myself from, well... most weren’t the gun-carrying type.”
“No.” His face hardened. “Guys like Ryan are manipulative little cowards. He loved playing mind games. He made you forget everything and everyone but him. You didn’t get to keep your own hours, your own feelings—”
“I didn’t forget forever. Call it temporary insanity.” Annalesa put the gun aside, taking Ric’s hands out from their obdurate fold across his chest. “Do you know why?”
He shook his head, a hard set to his jaw. She longed to make it soften.
“Because you taught me I was worth protecting,” she told him. “I’m not perfect. I probably let things go on too long with... some people. Friends, boyfriends, whatever. But eventually, I did what needed doing. You taught me that I was worth looking after—so I started looking after myself.”
“Okay.” He didn’t pull his hands away, but he didn’t squeeze her fingers back, either. The look on his face was a cross between confusion and speculation. They stood in silence for a moment while he digested her words, then he let go, standing back.
“I guess I need some time to, uh... get to know you again, because... Leesa, you... you’re different. Really different.”
“I’m different?” She laughed, and it sounded shaky, even to her, so she poked him in the center of his rock-hard chest to make her point. “I’m not the one who’s turned into some alpha warrior! Look at you!”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“You have to admit, you’re different.” She blinked at him, trying to work out what he was thinking. “I mean, inside too, of course...”
“Maybe that’s why I’m having such a hard time with your change,” he said softly. “You look the same on the outside.”
“Should I have gained some weight?” She looked wryly down at her relatively slender frame and then back at him. “To prove I’m better now?”
“No.” He smirked at that. “It’s just... trust issues don’t go away overnight, Leesa.”
“Yes, I know, but—”
“You don’t know!”
He shook his head and crossed his arms again, closing her off. “You’re the most trusting person I’ve ever known. You’d walk off with a terrorist if he put his gun away and smiled nice at you.”
“Now you’re just being a dick,” she snapped, keeping her gaze steady and working hard to keep the hurt from her voice. Being angry helped. “You finally living up to your nickname?”
“All right, let’s back up.” Ric wiped a hand down his face and gave a long, exhausted exhale. She’d expected him to get angry too, but instead he gave a rueful little laugh. “This conversation isn’t exactly going to plan.”
“You have a plan? You have to plan conversations with me now?”
She picked the gun up again and focused on the target. She felt Ric’s brooding presence behind her and found her hands trembling just as she squeezed the trigger, sending her shot wide—up and to the left.
“Damn it. I can never concentrate when you’re mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“Oh really?” She sniffed. “You’re talking about getting to know me again like... like I used to be some horrible person. And... I wasn’t. Was I, Ric?”
She tilted her face up to him, frowning, finally asking the question out loud.
“Put the gun down.” He nodded at it.
“Oh.” She blinked, putting the safety on and sliding the Heimdall onto the ledge of the booth. “Sorry.”
“Can we talk?” His brow furrowed. “I mean... for real?”
“Okay.” She tried not to sound too hesitant, although she was. He took her shooting glasses off and set them aside. “What about?”
“Ryan.” That look came back into his eyes, that flash of anger. “And what happened with your friends?”
“Oh... that.” She nodded her assent.
They had to talk about it eventually, she supposed. Elephants in the middle of the room had a way of making themselves known, one way or another. It was probably better to do it now, rather than later. And Ric seemed calm about it—or at least, his tone was light, and he wasn’t hammering away at her with accusations.
“Okay. I’m listening.” She gave him an encouraging smile, hoping he would start, because she didn’t have a clue where to begin.
“This is...” He took a breath and ran a hand over his head, hair still pulled back into an elastic band. “I guess this is just how I remember it. And I’m willing to admit, my perception might be... off. But I want you to hear my side, okay?”
“Okay.” She leaned against the side of the booth, preparing herself. She didn’t want to rehash any of this if she could avoid it—would have preferred pouring gasoline over her head and setting herself on fire—but if it helped him, she would.
“I showed up early at the game. That was my bad. And I know I never said that, so I’m saying it now. Maybe I was... jealous of Ryan.”
She tried not to let her surprise show on her face, but she was glad he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was far away, on the target, but he was seeing through it. He was remembering, and that forced her to remember too.
“I guess, if I’m being honest—yeah, I was jealous. I didn’t like him.”
“You hadn’t even met him yet,” she reminded him softly.
“I didn’t like any of your boyfriends.” He glanced at her, just briefly, then looked away again.
“I know.”
“But Ryan... he was a special kind of mean.”
“I know.” She sighed.
Ryan was popular, one of the most popular boys in school at the time, and she had believed, somehow, that dating him would improve her status. And in a way, it had—but the cost had been too great. Totally not worth it.
“Besides, I could tell, Leesa, just by you—by the way you were acting after you started dating him. I know I hadn’t met him yet—and maybe that’s part of what I was doing, showing up early, finding you in the stands... I wanted to see for myself.”
“And you did.”
“I was just looking out for you.”
“Like a good big brother.” She poked him again, lower this time, truly shocked at how rock-hard his belly was. She was still getting used to this leaner, harder man. “I know, Ric. I know. I remember. I was there.”
“I don’t think you remember it like I do.”
“So tell me.” She turned an invisible key in her lips. “I’ll shut up.”
“You asked me to pick you up.” He looked at her, waiting for her to interrupt, but she just nodded. “I didn’t know all your friends would be there. I found you in the stands. You were sitting next to him—but you got up and hugged me.”
She’d truly been happy to see him, especially after Ryan’s hissy fit about the seating arrangements. She was glad she’d asked her stepbrother to come get her, instead of going with Ryan to a party way out at one of his friend’s afterwards.
“Everyone had to move over to make room for me.” Ric’s cheeks actually got a little pink at the memory. “Your girlfriends were talking and giggling.”
“They were teenage girls.” She shut up when he gave her a cool look.
“I heard one of them make some comment about my fat ass, Leesa. Trust me, I know when people are making fun of me.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not sure if she was apologizing for then, or now.
“Anyway, Ryan said hi to me, but he was being an asshole to you,” he went on. “He kept complaining about the seats. And the fact that the coach had the nerve to bench him for that mascot stunt.”
She rolled her eyes at that. Ryan and a few of his buddies from the football team had spray-painted their rival school’s mascot head—a giant beaver of all things—bright pink. The coach had banned them from the next three games because of it.
“I just ignored your friends making fun of me. I was used to it by then.” Ric shrugged, arms crossed again as he looked off at the distant target. “But Ryan just kept going on and on—I couldn’t stand the way he talked to you, Leesa.”
She didn’t say anything. Ryan’s comments were burned into her memory too. It was probably a good thing Ric hadn’t been there when the phrase “dumb cunt” came out of Ryan’s mouth.
“Then the crowd went nuts—remember? The substitute quarterback scored the winning touchdown and suddenly Ryan was pissed—I saw his face. But you were too busy cheering for the home team to notice.”
“Right?” She snorted, shaking her head. “God forbid. He took it so personally. Like I was booing for him or something.”
“Then you tried to smooth it over.”
“What else could I do?” She shrugged. “A win was a good thing, right? I mean, for the team. I don’t know why he couldn’t see that.”
“You weren’t cheering for him. That’s what he wanted. That’s all he ever wanted.” Ric sighed. “That’s when he grabbed you and pulled you out of the stands.”
She nodded, lips pressed into a thin line at the memory. It was crystal clear to her, even now.
“Your friends just sat there, like it was nothing. Like he did that kind of thing all the time or something.”
He did.
But she wasn’t going to tell Ric that. That’s when she’d nearly gone head over heels down the stadium stairs and could have broken her neck. She remembered Ryan’s fingers digging hard into her upper arm. Remembered his sneer as he manhandled her down to the bottom.
“So I followed you.” He was lost in the memory too, reliving it. “I’d never seen you cry like that before, Leesa. Maybe that’s what did it. I couldn’t... I couldn’t stand to see you hurt.”
She’d been fine, physically, aside from the finger-shaped bruises that she’d find later on her upper arm. But Ryan had practically exploded with anger once they reached the bottom of the stadium steps. He’d pulled her out of the way and screamed at her, taking out all his frustration and rage on her, and she’d done nothing. She had just stood there, shaking, crying, and had taken it, every word, like raining blows down on her head.
Part of
her had been aware of Ric’s presence—she could only see through prisms by that point—but she hadn’t acknowledged it. The toxic words spewing from Ryan’s mouth had blocked everything else out.
“I remember him calling you a dumb bitch,” Ric said in a low voice.
Better than a dumb cunt, she thought, but didn’t say.
“He had your arm and he was shaking you and yelling and you were crying, asking him to stop, to let you go...”
She nodded, swallowing past a lump in her throat. She told herself she wasn’t going to cry. It was a long time ago. She’d been a different person then. And Ryan meant nothing to her, not anymore.
“And I hope to God you didn’t believe him—about Ryker money being the only reason you got into Kent Hill.” Ric glowered. “And all that crap about you being some sort of ice queen, not putting out? Fuck him. And good for you.”
But she had believed him—at least, part of her had. All of it—her admittance to Kent Hill being due to her stepfather’s money, her reputation as a frigid, English bitch. After all, that was the reputation she was looking to shatter, dating Ryan in the first place, wasn’t it?
“You were crying and he wouldn’t let you go and all I did was pull that little weasel’s hands off of you.” A muscle in Ric’s jaw tightened.
He paused, taking a steadying breath, unclenching his fists.
“I know he was two years younger than me—just a kid. I didn’t mean to hurt him.” He cleared his throat. “At least, not as bad as I did.”
“I know.”
It had all happened so fast. And Ryan had done plenty to provoke it. She might not have heard what her girlfriends said behind their hands about her stepbrother, but she’d heard every word out of Ryan’s mouth as they stood at the bottom of the stadium steps.
“I don’t know, I guess I just... snapped.” Ric’s hands clenched and unclenched, his jaw tensing, releasing. “It was like he was suddenly every kid who’d made fun of me and called me Big Dick. If he hadn’t called me that...”
“I remember.”
“But when he hit you...”