Sam took a deep breath. “So Carter’s girlfriend and I would dress up like hookers–”
“Not much of a stretch for Jazz,” he said, joke falling instantly flat.
“–and flirt our way inside so we can let you guys in the side door.”
“Pretty much. Yeah.” He lowered his head a fraction, so his eyes bored down into hers. “But Sam, baby, I don’t want that. Not even a little bit.”
“But there’s no one else.” Her voice was reasonable, even. But her pulse was thundering in her ears; her skin prickled.
“There’s not.” It sounded like an apology.
The coyotes had quieted, but there were other night sounds around them, indistinguishable chatter and whispers, crunching through leaf litter she couldn’t see.
“Say no,” Aidan urged, giving her a little shake.
But she couldn’t. Her lips wouldn’t form the word. “You can’t abandon Kev,” she said instead.
Even in the dark, she could see the pain writ wild across his face, the deep lines and grooves of stress.
“He would come for you,” she said. “He’s your family.”
“But so are you,” he countered. “And how can I risk one member for another?”
Her heart squeezed. “You wouldn’t be risking me. I’d be risking myself.”
He didn’t answer, but made a distressed sound deep in his throat. Sam put her arms around his neck and held him close, her head resting against his chest. “What was it I said before? You live life and I write about it. My writing can’t help you now. ButIcan.”
Thirty-Five
“What’d you tell King?” Fox asked as he rummaged through the duffel bags set up on the tailgate.
It was the next morning, and the tall tangled grasses of the cattle property were hoary with frost, their breath misting in the early light. If Walsh was still at home he would doubtless hear the gunshots and come to inquire. Aidan had anticipated that and already made a phone call.
“I told him I wanted to try out that ammo Candy brought with him. Said I’d be up here a while.”
“Good.” The Englishman nodded and started pulling out hardware. “Alright, my lovelies. Are we ready to learn?”
“They’re not your lovelies,” Carter said. It was a whole new Carter, this new one who Jazz was leaning against. Older, harder, more ferociously determined. Aidan had to approve.
Fox’s brows went up. “Whatever, mate.”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Sam said, and Aidan glanced sideways at his old lady. She was dressed for work because she was headed there afterward: dark skinny jeans, tall boots, a warm sweater under her wool coat. She’d worn her contacts, so there wouldn’t be any glare on her lenses, she’d said.
As he studied her profile, wanting to kiss her, she turned her head and met his gaze. Her smile flickered with nerves. “Don’t be too disappointed if I suck at this.”
“I won’t be disappointed. And you won’t suck.”
She turned to Fox as he approached her, squared up her shoulders, and proceeded to rise to the occasion…just as Aidan knew she would.
The paper targets were set up behind the barn, only a dozen or so paces away because, as Fox reasoned, the girls wouldn’t be shooting from a great distance. The Englishman was a patient, focused teacher, and he drilled them with a .38, a nine mil, and the little single-shot gut guns they were given to wear in their boots.
Jazz shrieked the first time the .38 kicked in her hands.
Sam jumped a little, but pressed her lips together in fierce concentration and fired again and again until she could hit within inches of the bulls eye every time.
When they were smooth and relaxed, Fox pulled out his own .40 and .45. “In case you end up with one of their guns,” he explained. “I want you to be able to grab anything up off the floor and use it.”
Aidan hadn’t even thought of that. A chill rippled down his back at the thought.
