Brotherhood of District 23 Complete Series

by Amy Briggs

  He laughed while we watched the paper approach us. “Well, we aren’t all allowed to carry quite as many rounds as you, but yes, I agree. It’s definitely fun. Holy shit, Isabel!” His eyes got huge as he looked at my target, which had a hole blown right through the middle of it. Even I was shocked. There were no stray shots at all, just a perfect little blown-out hole in the chest of the target caricature.

  I laughed as I pulled it off the clip it hung from and examined it more closely. “Well, I guess my work here is done,” I joked.

  “I’d say so. Jesus Christ, girl. That’s some goddamn good shooting.” He kept staring at the paper.

  “Thank you. So, why don’t you show me some of your arsenal over there? I mean, if you don’t mind.” I realized I had just invited myself into what looked like some alone time he may have had planned. I knew a lot of people, like myself, often went shooting to work things out in their head, or to not think about things for awhile, which made me wonder why he was there and what might be going on in his head.

  He looked down at me and smiled again. “I’d love to show you what I’ve got.” His smile turned into a smirk, and I felt my face get hot and flushed from the innuendo.

  “Relax, Isabel. I was talking about my guns. Get your mind out of the gutter, woman.” He turned around to get his stuff sorted, while I forced a giggle out and tried to regain my composure, once again thinking about how hot he was and kicking myself for not going home with him the night before.

  “Ok, so this is an AR-15. I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of them, but have you ever shot one of these?” He held it up for me to see.

  “No, actually, I haven’t.” I admired it. That gun was powerful, and in the wrong hands, deadly, as politics in this day and age would attest to. Many of the criminals we went after had them, and on the streets, they were bad news.

  “Okay, well, today you’re going to. I think you’ll like it. It’s pretty fun to shoot, I’ll be honest.” Flashing me that million-dollar smile, he set it on the counter in front of his lane and got the magazines and ammo ready. “Here, load this magazine with these rounds.” He handed me an empty magazine and pointed to a box of ammo, and I got to work loading.

  “Ok, all done.” I had loaded three magazines, while he had done the same.

  “Do you want to watch me do it first, or do you want me to show you how to shoot it, and then you can go?”

  “I want you to show me how. I’m excited to try it.” I really was excited to shoot it and didn’t want to watch him do it. Mostly, just because I was impatient. Normally, you’d need to wear your ear protection the whole time you were out there, because people were shooting nonstop, but we were the only people at the range that day, and we had taken it off after I shot my rounds. Now, we put it back on, and I looked over to him for my instructions. I was excited, but I was all about gun safety too, so I wanted to pay close attention.

  “Ok, come over here. I’m going to stand behind you and show you how to hold it, and then we’ll fire the first couple of rounds together. Then you can shoot on your own if you want, ok?” He motioned for me to step up to the counter in his lane, and then he pressed himself up against my back, reaching around me for the gun. I almost flinched at his touch, which he must have sensed. “Isabel, just relax.”

  “Ok,” was all I could muster. I needed to shake off the anxiety a bit. It wasn’t like I’d never shot a gun. I had just destroyed my own target a couple of minutes prior. His touch was distracting but comforting as well. I took a deep breath and sighed, settling myself into his arms comfortably, then relaxing into him. I was so turned on by him, and a little apprehensive but equally excited about shooting the rifle. I could feel my heart racing and wondered if he could feel it as well. He placed the gun in my hands, wrapping himself even closer around me, and helped me adjust my hand positioning by placing his over mine. He maneuvered my fingers into the right places and then showed me how to load the magazine into place, using his hand to guide mine to do the work.

  He leaned in close to my ear and said, “Ok, now we’ll take these first couple of shots together, then you can shoot away. Sound good?” It was hard to hear each other with earplugs, but I heard him and nodded my understanding. “Nod when you’re comfortable and ready,” he said loudly. I took another deep breath as he moved his right hand over mine on the trigger of the gun, then I nodded.

  Together, we squeezed the trigger slowly, igniting the gas piston and firing the rifle. The recoil was unexpected, causing me to lose my footing a bit and pushing me backwards roughly into Matt’s rock hard chest. It. Felt. Amazing. I could feel him chuckling behind me, while I readjusted my feet, and we shot again. After about ten rounds of shooting slowly, he relaxed his grip on me and stepped back a little bit, his fingers lingering over mine as he left the gun in my hands.

  I could still sense his presence behind me, but I was in control now and fired off the remaining rounds in the rifle. I counted ten more after he surrendered it over to me, then it ran out, and I set it down and started giggling. Taking my earphones off and turning around, I caught Matt standing there with the biggest smile, making me flushed. He was not only hot, but he was handsome. He was Mr. All American with those pools of green and those perfect teeth as he stood before me, arms crossed with his biceps bulging, just smiling at me.

  “Was that fun or what?” he asked.

  “Oh my God, that was awesome. Thank you so much for letting me shoot it. That was amazing.” I felt like a little kid at Christmas. It was exhilarating to shoot a powerful weapon like that. You could feel your entire body reverberate.

  “If you want to hang around and shoot some other fun stuff, you’re more than welcome to. I’ve got guns from most of the major American wars I have collected and was planning to shoot this afternoon. If you’re not busy.” He lifted his glasses to his head to look directly at me. I lifted my glasses and placed them on top of my head to meet his eyes.

  “I would love that, if you’re sure you don’t mind.” I really did enjoy shooting, and honestly, I enjoyed his company.

  “As long as you promise not to hit me again, I don’t mind at all. Jax doesn’t let me yammer on about my guns anymore, so it’ll be fun for me to show them to you,” he smiled and put his glasses back down, while he started to get the other guns out of his bag.

  Isabel was just too hot for words. She had me wound up all morning, and I wanted to be pissed off at her when I saw her, but one look at her ass in jeans, followed by watching her assume a combat stance and rapid fire shoot her pistol, and I completely forgot what I was mad about. All I wanted to do was bend her over the counter, slap her ass for the other night, and fuck her. Literally, it was the first thing I thought. Then when she got anxious about shooting the rifle, I wanted to wrap my arms around her and comfort her.

  I had never taught anyone to shoot like that, but she was so tiny, I knew the recoil from the gun was going to knock her right on that sweet ass of hers if I wasn’t standing there. Being that close to her again was such a fucking turn-on, and I tried like hell not to look like it, but I sure couldn’t help but feel drawn to her after last night and the position we were in. I was certain she could feel my heart beating through my chest right into her back. As I inhaled behind her, I could smell coconut and flowers, taking me someplace else in my head. She smelled like the beach on a hot summer day. It was intoxicating. I wanted to taste her so badly I actually felt saliva pool in my mouth as if I were hungry and smelled something I had been craving.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon shooting, while I showed her some of the guns I’d collected. I had been collecting guns from the major American wars, plus a few fun ones too. She wanted to hear all about them, so I went through a few of them for her. I was really surprised at how interested she seemed, but maybe as a cop, she had an affinity for firearms too. From WWI, I had a Springfield M1903. It was a five-shot, bolt-action rifle; it was the basic issued rifle for the Army and saw use up to Vietnam as a sniper rifle. It had a w
ooden stock and iron works and was heavy as hell. It had to suck lugging that thing around.

  From WWII, I had found an M1 Garand. General Patton had called it the “greatest battle implement ever devised.” It was a semi-automatic rifle fed with an eight-round clip, not a traditional magazine. What was interesting to me about this gun was that after the eight rounds were fired, the clip would eject from the top of the weapon with a very distinct sound, so the enemy could detect when our guys were out of ammo. As it turned out, they found a way around that by tossing empty magazines onto the ground where it would make the same pinging sound, and trick the enemy into thinking our guys didn’t have fully loaded weapons waiting for them.

  In the Korean War, they still used the Garand, but I had an M1911 .45 pistol that supposedly belonged to someone in our family who got it during the war. My mother had given it to me for Christmas a few years ago, and while I didn’t know if I believed the story behind it, I certainly enjoyed shooting it.

  The last of my “war guns” was the M16, ever popular and used in Vietnam, of course. The M4, which I also had, was built on the same platform, but the M16 was longer, and the Vietnam era rifles weren’t built for attachments like sights and flashlights and the other fun stuff I could put on my M4. I didn’t bring the M4 or the M16 with me that day, but I did tell her about them, and she listened like I was telling her a bedtime story, asking me questions about when I got them and why I picked the ones I did. She was so easy to talk to. I had completely forgotten being annoyed with her that morning.

  No surprise to me, her favorite gun was the .44 Magnum revolver, which was the same gun Dirty Harry used in the movie. Every time she shot it, she giggled from the kickback. After we had both shot all of my guns and she’d practiced with her pistol a few more times, I realized we had been shooting for hours. We hadn’t really talked much except about the guns and how to use them; it was hard to talk and shoot, of course, but we were also just enjoying the time. I had known Isabel for a few months now, and this was the first time I felt like she had ever relaxed, except for in the alley the night before; but even then, she hadn’t been relaxed. She was always looking around, observing, being a cop, basically, and I was thoroughly enjoying spending time with her. Most women liked to go out and shoot around here because it was a way to spend time with the guys, but with the exception of Jo, in my experience, they had no interest in learning about the guns or becoming more proficient. Isabel’s desire to master each of them was appealing to me; I could tell she was a perfectionist like I was, and I was definitely attracted to that quality in her.

  When we were shooting, there was less sexual tension, but I swore the moment we started putting everything away, it was like a heavy blanket covering us. I would have done anything to find a reason to touch her again.

  “I really had a lot of fun today. Thank you so much for letting me shoot all of your guns. I feel like I had a history lesson today too.” She smiled up at me while helping me wrap the guns back up and put the ammo away.

  “It was totally my pleasure. I come out here fairly often with Jax or with Jo, or both, but they were both busy today. I like to practice, and it kind of clears my head too. There’s something calming about being out here on the range, as strange as that may sound.” I honestly did feel that way. I enjoyed the thrill of shooting, of course, but becoming one with the weapon and working on a goal, whether it be to hit a bullseye, do drills, or whatever the case may be, gave me a sense of accomplishment every time I came out.

  “Are you back to work tomorrow?” she asked me in a way I was hoping meant she wanted to continue our time together.

  “I am. I’m on for twenty-four tomorrow with the usual crowd. What about you?” I should have just asked her out to eat or something.

  “I am back to work tomorrow as well. We are doing twelve-hour shifts right now, but it keeps changing. We have the same budget issues you guys do, I’m sure.”

  I smirked a bit. “Yea, every year it’s something. Fortunately for me, that’s more Brian’s problem than mine; as long as I have a job.”

  “Ah yes, I don’t have to deal with that stuff, but I have my own fair share of bullshit paperwork to do on a regular basis. That’s the one thing about becoming a detective I never gave any thought to: paperwork.” She rolled her eyes dramatically and grinned.

  “Yea, I can only imagine.” Every time she spoke, I was waiting for her to finish so I could ask her to eat or drink or make out, or something to keep this day going, and yet the words never came out of my mouth. Then she hit me with a surprise, which was her way, I was learning.

  “So, would you like to come over to my place for some food? After letting me shoot your guns and use your ammo, it’s the least I can do to say thank you. I’ll cook us something, or we can just get takeout and have a drink or two if you’d like.”

  “You cook?” That was what I chose to say. I was a fucking moron. If I could have slapped myself for that one, I definitely would have. And my mom would have slapped me too.

  “Uh, yea, I cook.” She looked at me with a raised eyebrow and was definitely waiting for me to say something less stupid.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it how it sounded. I would absolutely love to come over for dinner, but you don’t have to cook for me. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

  “Maybe I like trouble, Cavanaugh.” She was definitely flirting with me. “But in any event, I love cooking for other people. So let’s get your shit, and you can follow me home. I live about ten minutes from here. You can park behind me in the driveway.”

  “Sounds great.” I grabbed my stuff, which was all packed up, and followed her to the parking lot.

  I watched her get in that goddamn hot rod, and the rumble from the engine as she started it actually sent a jolt right to my cock. I was starting to wonder what I was getting myself into with dinner at her place, because I definitely wanted to pick up where we left off the night before.

  I secured everything in my truck, and as she pulled out, she waved to me and smiled. I quickly got in and hightailed it behind her, since I had no idea where she lived. I didn’t want to get left behind. I decided at that moment I was going to let her control the situation. There was no way a woman like her was going to let me take control. I had no idea if this was just dinner or not, but either way, I wouldn’t have said no for the world.

  I really didn’t want the day to end. I didn’t want to go home and cook for myself. Besides, everyone had to eat, so dinner could have been a totally innocent and friendly meal, just two people who spent the day together, eating and socializing. That was all. I wasn’t kidding myself one single bit, really. I wanted to spend more time with him, and after I’d ditched him the night before, there was no way he was going to initiate dinner or continuing the day, so it was all I could think of. I was hoping I had something decent to cook for us. I was definitely going to need a drink. That man’s smile had been melting my fucking panties all day long, and I needed to calm down. I got chills thinking about his arms around me, teaching me to shoot firearms I was unfamiliar with today. It was one of those moments where you needed to surrender and trust, which wasn’t in my nature at all, and yet I felt perfectly comfortable with him.

  I lived in a two-story condo I had bought a few years prior, and luckily for me in this city, there was plenty of parking. Once we pulled in, I watched him get out of his truck and tuck his hands in his pockets, a sign of nervousness, which brought a smile to my face. I loved all of the things about people’s mannerisms I learned as a cop. I could almost always tell when someone was lying or hiding something, and being able to read people like that gave me a feeling of control in most situations.

  We walked up to the front door, and I could smell him come up behind me. After we had been shooting all day, there was a hint of gunpowder, but I could also smell a bit of his cologne or soap; it had a musky scent that hit my senses in such a way I couldn’t think of anything except how much I liked his closeness. I turned off the alar
m as we got in the front door and led him into the kitchen and dining room area.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” I asked as I took off my holster and badge and set them on the counter in their usual spot.

  “I’d love a beer if you have one. And can you point me to your bathroom so I can go wash my hands?”

  “Of course. It’s down the hall there, first door on your left. And I’ll grab you a beer while I get dinner started.” I began rummaging through the fridge to see what I could come up with on the fly. I opened an import beer for him and put it on the kitchen island behind me.

  I found frozen shrimp, rice, and some random veggies, and decided I could pull together Spanish rice with shrimp for us. I had started to make myself a martini when he popped back into the kitchen.

  “Is shrimp ok? Are you allergic or anything?” I asked.

  “I love seafood. Well, I love food actually, so yes, shrimp is great.” I pointed to the beer on the counter, which he took and brought up to his lips, distracting me from what I was doing, causing me to spill vodka on the counter.

  “Why don’t you let me make your drink while you start dinner,” he offered with that million-dollar smile. Those Cavanaugh boys really should do toothpaste commercials or something; they had the most beautiful smiles I’d ever seen in my life.

  “Ok, that sounds reasonable. It’s just a vodka tonic, and there are limes right over there in the fruit bowl. They should still be good too,” I laughed. It was fairly often I threw away every single thing in that fruit bowl without ever having eaten anything in it. I forgot about it all the time, and then the fruit would just go bad. “I was going to make shrimp with Spanish rice if that works? I eat pretty healthy for the most part, so I have lots of veggies and stuff.”