Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I don’t respond but give him a curious look, and he quickly changes the subject.
“Now, lass, time to go to the shooting range. Maeve said she’ll handle Breena and the first interviews with the nannies, and I’ll get the rest later. I cleared some time for us. This is important.”
Excitement races through me at what we’re about to do. “You talked to Keenan?” I don’t much care if Keenan gets mad at me, but I hate to think of Carson getting into trouble.
“Aye, and he said have at it.” We leave Breena with Maeve and head to the car.
He pulls up to a private shooting range where the men of the Clan go and shows me around. It’s like a high-end warehouse, sound-proof and neatly sectioned off so people can practice. He hands me a pair of protective headphones and a gun.
“Put the headphones on?”
“Earmuffs,” he corrects. Okay then.
“Careful,” he says. “It’s loaded. And we need to go over safety precautions first.” Aye, of course we do.
He walks around in front to talk to me, to make sure I hear him I suppose.
“Always, always treat a firearm as if it were loaded,” he says, his stern eyes boring into mine. “Understood, lass?”
I nod. “Aye.”
“And what if you know it’s empty?”
I shrug. “Well, I suppose then…”
“No,” he says patiently. “Even then, Megan. You treat it as if it were loaded. Do you have any idea how many lives are lost every year because someone thinks they’re handling an empty weapon, hmm?”
I swallow. “Loads, I reckon.”
“Aye. So that’s rule number one.”
“Will there be a test later?”
“You bet your arse there will be.” He’s dead serious. I love it.
“Rule number two,” he says, standing with his arms crossed on his chest, his stern eyes unwavering. “Always keep your trigger finger off the trigger and outside the trigger guard until you’re damned ready to shoot. Keep your hands any fucking place but on the trigger until then. Got it?”
I nod and give him a little salute.
He nods back. “Good girl. Next. Rule number three. Always keep your weapon pointed at a safe target, a place that would cause minimal damage to humans or property if accidentally discharged.”
“Ooohhh, so this is why in the movies you always see people pointing at ceilings?”
For the first time since we came in here, his lips quirk upward. “Aye, precisely.”
“And not,” I say with mock innocence. “At your bollox?”
He cringes. “Right, lass,” he says with a chuckle. “Or at your arse.”
“Pretty sure I have a target on my arse, the way you’re always—”
“Alright, now, Megan,” he interrupts. “Last rule.”
I nod seriously. “Right, then. Last rule.”
“Always be sure of your target and what’s beyond it. You could shoot at an assailant with a friend behind him and kill both of them dead.”
I shudder. “Oh, God.”
“Oh, God is right, and you’d be calling his name if you didn’t aim correctly.”
I wince.
“Now, lass. Let’s get to business.”
He positions himself behind me, just like I imagined he would, his voice so silky in my ear, I shiver. Like his intelligence, there’s something strangely appealing to his dedication to safety, to making sure I’m cared for, even if it means teaching me self-defense.
We shoot for an hour or more and I was right. It’s every bit as intimate and hot as I imagined. His warm, solid body behind me, helping me stand in position. The way his hand lingers on my inner thigh when he shows me to widen my stance. His large, rough hands, arranging my fingers over the cold metal. Even the powerful feeling that pulses through me when I finally pull the trigger.
“God, you’re a good shot,” he says with a smile, and his praise thrills me.
“Well, I am related to the McCarthy Clan,” I tell him with a grin.
“Damn right y’are.” He pulls me to him for a quick kiss before helping me into the car.
We get back to the mansion just as a car pulls up. I can’t see who’s in the car because of the tinted windows, but when it comes to a stop, the door swings open, and Sheena and Nolan emerge. Maeve walks out with Breena.
“Why, hello, honeymooners!” I say. “Fancy meeting you here. You home, then?”
“Aye,” Nolan says. “Only a short trip. Sheena says she’d rather a bunch of short trips than one long one.”
She winks at me. “Helps us keep an eye on the children and gives me something to look forward to.”
It’s not lost on me how Nolan looks from Carson to me, and his gaze meets mine. His jaw hardens ever so slightly. Nolan will want to be brought up to speed later today.
Carson helps them with their bags, then runs ahead after Breena when she chases a butterfly by the garden. Nolan falls back to talk to me.
“You alright, cousin?”
I nod. “Aye.” I’m better than alright, but there’s no need for him to know that. “You?”