No Safeword: Matte - Happily Ever After (Safewords)

by Candace Blevins

  He showed her the empty chamber and handed the gun to her, and she held it, her finger landing on the trigger.

  “Never touch the trigger unless you intend to pull it.” He lifted another gun and rested his finger above the trigger guard, straight. “With it resting here it takes a millisecond to put your finger on the trigger as you aim, and there’s no chance you’ll accidentally pull it.”

  He talked her through how several kinds of guns worked, and then reached for an envelope inside the case.

  “These are the pieces of a bullet, before they’re assembled.” He explained how the gun’s hammer strikes the primer at the back of the round to create the initial spark and light the gunpowder under pressure, which creates the explosion and catapults the bullet out of the casing and down the barrel of the gun.

  He lined the bullets up in front of her — a twenty-two, twenty-five, thirty-eight, thirty-eight special, three-eighty, nine millimeter, forty-five, and fifty caliber.

  “The caliber tells how big around the bullet is. Or rather, the internal diameter of the barrel, which defines the maximum width of the bullet.” He lifted the second smallest bullet. “A twenty-five is a quarter of an inch across.”

  He went through each with a good bit of description and she asked, “Can I see the guns for each caliber, again?”

  He showed her a gun for each kind of bullet, again. She understood the bigger the bullet the more stopping power, and was a little surprised to learn the size of the gun told you nothing about the size of the bullet.

  “What did Masterson shoot me with?”

  Tyler picked up the second largest bullet. “A forty-five jacketed hollow point, designed to shred the inside of a body. It’s why you don’t have an exit wound, and why the inside of your shoulder and chest were almost turned to jello in places. I’ve never heard of anyone staying on their feet when shot with a forty-five.”

  Sam ignored his last sentence. She’d stayed on her feet because of her fight training, but she’d barely managed. The lawyer in her had to ask, “Doesn’t that show even more intent to injure? Using a bullet designed for maximum damage?”

  Tyler shook his head. “Viv and I both carry hollow points, but for safety reasons. Standard ammo can easily pass through a human, which means I may unintentionally hit an innocent bystander standing twenty feet behind the person I shoot. With a hollow point you can be reasonably sure it will stay in the body.”

  Sam took the bullet from his hand and set it back into the line. “What kind should I get?”

  “We won’t know until you shoot them and get an idea of what you like. A lot of men think women should shoot revolvers, so they don’t have to rack the slide or deal with jams, but once your shoulder heals I don’t see any reason to restrict you to one or the other. You’ll likely have the same requirements as Viv — something you can handle, with an external safety, small enough you’ll carry it and not leave it home to keep from having to deal with it.”

  Sam had about as much information about the different kinds of guns as she could handle for one day.

  “You said I could shoot a twenty-two today?”

  “Certainly. We can use the shooting range at my work. I’ll pack up the twenty-two and a few larger calibers.” He looked through the cases and closed them. “I’ll shoot the high caliber guns while you have your hand on my arm, so you can feel the difference in kick.”

  Sam nodded. “Thanks for doing this, Tyler.”

  “No problem. If you’re going to carry, I want to be sure you’re safe. Once you think you have the strength to shoot we’ll let you try a half-dozen or so guns you think you might like.” He smiled. “I’m sure by then you’ll have done lots of research, and will know facts about guns even I’m not aware of.”

  Sam rode with Tyler to his work, and they talked about her panic attack.

  “You already know how to breathe and focus. I’ve watched you do it at play parties when Ethan lays into you. Also, you’ve already figured out your reactions aren’t logical, they’re biological. Your brain and body don’t always use logic to try to keep you safe, sometimes they merely stop you from doing what got you hurt before.”

  “And stepping outside the courthouse by myself got me hurt before.”

  “Exactly. It might help to go out a different door, or...”

  When he didn’t finish his sentence she prompted, “Or?”

  “I’m only bringing this up because I know you won’t use a weapon unless you have to.”

  “Okay.”

  “They make nylon fiber throwing knives, as well as ceramic, carbon fiber, and glass. With no metal.”

  “So they don’t show up in the metal detector.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So I could have one up my sleeve, just to have something to touch, to keep my panic attack at bay?”

  “If you got caught with it in the courtroom you could be disbarred.”

  Sam sighed. “Yes, there is that. I could always run for office and work to change the law, I suppose.”

  “An excellent idea.”

  She looked at him sharply and he said, “The state legislature might be doable. You’d likely have to cut back on your case load, but you could still practice.”

  “Maybe I’ll talk to Kirsten about finding someone for me to talk to. She’s my friend, so she can’t be my therapist. I think her and Marcus are the only two kink friendly mental health practitioners in town, though.”

  “Do you need a kink friendly therapist to talk about your panic attacks?”

  “How am I going to explain my ability to handle pain, or how easily I can drop into deep breathing to control biological reflexes, if I can’t talk about my kinky side?”

  “You and Marcus aren’t really friends, are you? You just kind of know each other from play parties.”

  “Yeah. Maybe. I’ll talk to Kirsten.”

  “Still want to learn to shoot?”

  “Yes.”

  He pulled into a parking lot and reached into the back seat for his case. They walked into the building side-by-side, and Tyler signed her in with the receptionist before they headed down the hallway.

  “Your company made good use of this old school building. It has character. I like it.”

  “The shooting range is downstairs, with earth on three sides and reinforced walls behind you. I’ll be with you the entire time, and I have Viv’s hearing and eye protection for you to wear. The hearing protection will let you hear me talk, but will shut down for gunshots, to protect your hearing.

  He made her put the huge ear things on her head before they went in, but she was glad for it once she entered and saw a handful of people shooting. He led her to one of the shooting lanes and handed the twenty-two revolver to her. He talked her through loading it, closing it, and flipping the safety off. She pulled the hammer back, aimed as he’d shown her, and pulled the trigger.

  She’d been expecting a kick, but the noise and violence of it made her pause before she pulled the hammer back and shot again.

  “This is a single-action. With a double-action you don’t have to pull it back every time.”

  “Why make a single-action at all? Why wouldn’t you want a double?”

  “This is an antique, made before World War II. When it was new, I believe the cheaper single-action revolvers cost around six dollars, where a double-action was around forty dollars.”

  “Six dollars? For a gun?”

  “If you only make a quarter an hour, six dollars is three days’ work.”

  “How much are the modern guns you showed me? The ones I might want to buy?”

  “Most range from three-fifty to around nine hundred. My everyday carry is closer to fifteen hundred, but it’s treated so it won’t rust or corrode even if taken into the ocean. It’s the same gun the Navy seals carry.” He shrugged. “You can pay thousands if you want designer versions, but you shouldn’t be showing your gun to anyone except the bad guys, and they’ll be more concerned with the caliber you just sho
t them with than what kind of gun you used.”

  He talked her through discarding the empty brass and reloading, and she shot once more, but he stopped her.

  “Don’t lean back; you look like you’re trying to get your face as far from the weapon as you can. Stand natural, maybe even lean forward a little. Drop your chin, line up the front sights with the back sight, relax your body, and squeeze the trigger as you slowly breathe out.” She did as he said and the bullet hit inside the second ring. “Better. I know your left shoulder isn’t up to par, but this time try pushing forward with your right hand and pull back with your left. Not so much it hurts, but enough to try to steady the weapon.”

  Sam experimented around until she found a good equilibrium, and shot again. She hit dead center this time, and pulled the hammer and shot again.

  “Where did it go? I don’t see where I hit?”

  “You hit dead center twice in a row. You’re a natural, Sam. Shoot the rest of what you loaded and then I’ll shoot a clip through a couple of calibers so you can feel the difference in kick.”

  Sam unloaded her gun into the target and then left it open as Tyler had instructed. She stepped back and watched Tyler load the guns he planned to shoot, and then let him situate her behind him.

  “Put your right hand at the back of my right shoulder. Don’t push, just let it rest there so you can feel the recoil.”

  He shot the twenty-two she’d just shot, then a three-eighty, a thirty-eight special, a nine millimeter, a forty-five, and finally what he called a Desert Eagle, which she later learned was a fifty caliber.

  When they were back in his car she said, “The three-eighty seemed to kick more than the nine millimeter, but you said the nine millimeter had more powder and more bullet mass.”

  He nodded. “My nine millimeter Sig is much bigger than Viv’s three-eighty Ruger, and the bigger guns are made so their mass absorbs some of the kick. She says if someone breaks in she’s going for my gun because it’s so much easier to shoot. However, it’s too big for her to carry. Deciding which gun you prefer is basically weighing what’s more important — size, kick, accuracy, safety features, and cost.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ethan was already home when she pulled into the driveway, and she worried he might smell the gunpowder on her when they kissed. She wished she knew how to bring the subject up, and began to think perhaps she should’ve called him when Tyler suggested.

  He was cooking when she walked in, and she went to him as normal and allowed him to fold her into his arms.

  He held her a few seconds before gingerly removing her suit jacket. “Something bothering you, or are you just tired?”

  Maybe the gunpowder was just stuck in her nostrils? Or perhaps the frying turkey sausage overpowered the smell? Either way, she wasn’t going to complain. She put her purse under the small desk in the kitchen, hooked her jacket over the back of the chair, and looked through the mail before climbing on a stool at the island and answering.

  “I had a panic attack when I tried to leave the courthouse. Nothing major. I mean, no one noticed, but...” She shook her head. “My feet rooted themselves to the floor and wouldn’t let me step outside. We won in court, and it was a good day, but then the woman, his ex, glared at me when he hugged me after the verdict.”

  “He hugged you?”

  “Yes, it was a happy moment. Nothing sexual or flirty. Just happy. Please don’t start with the petty jealous stuff, okay? Your trust that I’m yours and you have nothing to worry about is one of the reasons I agreed to marry you.”

  He looked at her a few seconds and went back to stirring the sausage. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “Anyway, she glared at me and it took me back, emotionally, I guess.” She slid off the bar stool and stepped to the wine refrigerator as she told the story. When she reached the part about calling Tyler, Ethan kept his back to her as he quietly asked why Tyler, and not him.

  “Because I asked Tyler to teach me how to shoot a gun.”

  This made him turn, but he didn’t look upset. “And did he?”

  “It turns out my shoulder isn’t ready to shoot anything bigger than a pea-shooter yet, but he gave me a crash course in the different kinds and calibers, and let me shoot his grandfather’s twenty-two revolver.”

  “Are you considering buying a gun?”

  Sam had trouble holding the wine bottle with her left hand as her right worked the corkscrew, and she ended up sitting in a chair with the cold bottle gripped between her thighs.

  “I think I’ve about made up my mind to buy a gun and get my carry permit.”

  “You won’t be able to carry it into the courthouse.”

  She stopped wrestling with the wine bottle and rolled her eyes. “How does everyone know this?”

  He smiled and she once again focused on clamping the wine bottle between her thighs as she pressed and twisted the corkscrew.

  “I’m not opposed to having a gun in the house — or you carrying one — if you learn how to be safe with it and get enough range time to build the muscle memory necessary to use it in a crisis situation.”

  “Muscle memory.” She looked up, ignoring the wine bottle for the moment. “Yeah, I can see that. I was wondering how I’d ever draw the gun, stand the right way, have my fingers in the right place, line up the sights, and then pull the trigger before the bad guy managed to tackle me, but I guess it’s just like anything else and you have to practice until it flows into one movement without thought.” She considered it a moment and added, “You don’t have a gun; I assumed you didn’t know much about them.”

  He pulled eggplant slices from the oven and began layering them into a casserole dish with the marinara sauce, ricotta cheese, and turkey sausage. “My dad has guns and he took me shooting from an early age. There were always loaded weapons in the house; I just didn’t feel the need to buy any of my own when I moved out.”

  “Are you upset I called Tyler instead of you?”

  He shook his head and stepped towards her. She didn’t really want him to have to help with the wine, but it appeared she was out of options and she was grateful she wouldn’t have to ask. “My feelings are a little hurt you didn’t call me after your panic attack, but I understand why you called him. No matter what you’re learning, you find the best and ask them to teach you. Since he won’t tell us what he did for the government, it’s likely he was CIA or some kind of special forces, and we know he was in charge of security for the Country Music Awards this year, so he’s good at what he does.” He shrugged and reached for the wine bottle. “I trust you with anyone, and I trust him with you, so I don’t mind the two of you spending enough time together for him to teach you. I assume Viv is fine with it, too, or he wouldn’t have agreed.”

  Sam accepted the opened wine bottle and said, “Thanks.” She walked it to the island and reached for wine glasses. “He’d like a phone call from you to talk about it.”

  “Not a problem.”

  Well, that had gone pretty easy. She smiled and said, “Viv has a carry license, and he says she’s had a gun pretty much every time she and I have gone out, when Tyler wasn’t with us.”

  “And this surprises you?”

  “I had no idea.”

  He smiled. “She’ll be able to show you which holsters work for different kinds of clothing.”

  “I think I’ve waited about as long as I can to start strength training and some serious range of motion exercises.” She’d been so frustrated today, her body unable to do what she wanted.

  She handed his glass of wine over and he leaned in for a quick kiss. “You’ve lasted longer than I figured you would. I’m impressed with your restraint.” He shook his head. “In your place, I’m not sure I’d be happy working mostly on stamina and holding back on strength and flexibility. When’s your next ultrasound?”

  “Eight days.”

  “Can I come with you to this one?” She didn’t answer right away and he added, “I’d like to talk to the do
ctor.”

  “Yes, of course you can.” He had an odd look on his face, and she added, “I just wasn’t expecting you to want come now that I can drive myself. It caught me off guard.”

  “I’m not sure that’s entirely why you hesitated. Are you sure there isn’t something else?”

  “I’ve had to come back from injuries before, but I lived alone, and did it on my own. No one’s gone to the doctor with me since…I don’t know. Maybe high school?” She shrugged her right shoulder. “Dad drove me a few times when the doctor hadn’t cleared me to drive yet, but he didn’t go in with me.” She paused, uncertain how to explain the brief surprise she felt when he first asked. Blowing out a breath, she said, “I’ve been single and on my own for so long, it just surprised me. It’ll be nice to have another set of ears, and someone to help me remember everything I want to talk to him about.”

  “You’ll have a list of what you want to ask him.” He spread shredded mozzarella and parmesan cheese over the eggplant lasagna and slid the dish into the oven. “If the ultrasound doesn’t show enough healing to stand up to the stresses of strength training and stretching exercises I want to talk to him about what we can do to keep you from going crazy. You’re in a holding pattern now, and I can see little cracks forming in your psyche every time I have to help you with something.”

  Sam shook her head. If she commented on the cracks forming in her psyche she’d burst into tears, so she addressed the fact she was already doing everything possible. “You and I probably understand nutrition better than most doctors. I’m pushing mega quantities of micronutrients into my system during the three days a week I juice. I’m staying away from foods known to cause inflammation, and other than the couple of times we’ve resorted to ice cream for emotional satisfaction, I’ve stayed away from sugar, high fructose corn syrup, and other immune suppressants. The doctor says my healing’s about a month ahead of what he’d normally expect; there’s only so much we can do to speed it up.”

  “What if we go for a solid seven days of juicing, and add natural protein sources? It wouldn’t hurt me to juice for a week, either. I skipped the dojo a few weeks, and I haven’t been running as often. We can do it together. Oh, and I found a bike rental place in town with two person bikes. Maybe we can take one down to Chickamauga Battlefield this weekend? I’ll steer the front, all you’ll have to do is help pedal from the back.”