Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 70628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“That’s right. You don’t.” From Buck.
“But,” Luke continues, “I agree with Aspen. These people need to be brought down. And you agree with me too, Moreno.”
Buck says nothing.
“Yeah. That’s proof that you agree.” A smile of satisfaction slides over Luke’s face.
“Fine,” Buck says. “I agree. We need to find these motherfuckers. But why don’t you and I do it? Let’s leave the ladies out of it.”
“No way.” I move between Buck and Luke. “I’m the one who was wronged all these years. I will not be treated like a little woman here. I’m as tough as any of you people.”
What a crock. I’m six feet tall, an athlete, and full of muscle. But I’m not as tough as a Navy SEAL or a former underground drug lord.
I know it, and everyone else here knows it. They’re nice enough not to contradict me though.
Toughness aside, I do know how to protect myself.
My father taught me long ago.
“I’m going to need a gun,” I say.
Both Buck’s and Luke’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.
“I can shoot a gun. You know who my father is, Buck. You’ve seen the gun collection in our basement. Do you really think he never taught me how to handle a piece?”
“I can get you set up,” Luke says.
“What do you have available?” Buck asks.
“A few Glocks, a few Smith & Wesson’s. I’m thinking a nine-millimeter for her.”
“I’m standing right here,” I say. “And yes, a nine-millimeter would be perfect.”
“Okay,” Buck says. “Show us what you’ve got.”
An hour later, I’m armed with a Smith & Wesson CSX. It feels good in my hands and strapped to my shoulder with the holster Luke fitted on me.
“We should go to the shooting range,” Buck says.
“We can if you want,” I tell him, “but I’m a great shot.”
“I’m sure you are, but when is the last time you actually held a gun in your hand?”
I bite my lip. He makes a good point. So many times I wished for a damned gun when I was on the island.
It’s been five years or more.
“Point taken.” I turn to Luke. “Where can we practice shooting around here?”
“I know of a few shooting ranges in the area,” Luke says. “That’s not what I would recommend, though.”
Buck clears his throat. “What do you recommend then?”
“I’ll take you to my father’s mansion. He has a shooting range in the basement.”
“What?” Buck says.
“My grandfather was a bit of a nutcase. He built an entire underground bunker. In fact, that’s where I stayed when I came back to LA because there was a high price on my head.”
“You have an underground bunker,” Buck says, his tone noncommittal.
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s what I just said.”
Buck shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Okay. What the fuck? Let’s go shoot some guns.”
15
BUCK
Damn it all to hell.
Lucifer Ashton Junior has a fucking shooting range in his basement, complete with a control booth, target retrieval carriers, and four shooting booths. The walls are concrete blocks and the ceiling concrete and steel.
One of the nicest ranges I’ve ever seen, at that.
“How’s the ventilation down here?” I ask Luke.
“State of the art,” he says. “My father never does anything half-assed. Except when it comes to parenting, but that’s another story.”
Yeah. One I don’t want to hear at the moment, and one I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to tell. “Good. I’m not feeling the need to inhale any combustion byproducts today.”
“You won’t,” he says.
Katelyn is with us, at Luke’s request. She’s never shot a gun before, and her nerves are a complete mess.
But she’s Luke’s problem.
Aspen is mine.
She turns out to not be a problem at all. The woman is a crack shot.
Of course she was trained by the best—her SEAL father.
“You’re amazing,” I tell her.
“I was always pretty good. I’m surprising myself, though, since it’s been so long.”
“Some things are like riding a bike,” I say. “Apparently shooting is one of them.”
“Then why did you insist we practice?”
“Because I have your best interests at heart, Aspen. You haven’t had a gun in your hands for nearly six years. I wanted to make sure you could still handle it.”
“Well, I proved that I can.”
“Yes, you have. Physically, you are as adept as anyone I’ve seen with a gun.”
“Physically?” She raises an eyebrow.
I don’t want to get into this with her, but do I have a choice? My job is to take care of her, and making sure she’s okay is part of that. “I’m a little worried about your emotional state. You’re so set on vengeance. And with a gun in your hand…”
“For God’s sake, Buck. Give me a little credit. I’m not a moron.”
“Did I say that?”
“You just accused me of being emotionally unstable.”
“No I didn’t, but tell me something,” I say. “If you knew for sure who set you up, and if that person came within shooting distance of you right at this moment, are you telling me you could hold yourself back?”