A few hours pass with Coach Neill instructing me on how to shoot. She whips out a few other handguns, including a Derringer, the same kind my father gifted me before he died, and shows me how to properly hold each one. Aiming is much different with Coach than it was with my father. Her instruction is simple, direct, and full of confidence, a tone that I desperately miss in my household.
By the time we’re finished, she reaches into the cabinet one more time and produces a Colt pistol. “It’s my turn to gift you something.”
“Coach, I can’t accept this.”
“Sure, you can. You just learned how to shoot—and you succeeded way better than most.”
I shrug. “My father taught me a bit.”
“Didn’t doubt that for a second. But you took to it naturally. It means you’re ready for something that’s easy to conceal.”
My eyes widen. “You want me to carry this on me?”
“No, I want you to hang it up in your room.” A smile crooks her lips. “We can obtain a concealed carry permit if that makes you feel better.”
She urges me to take the gun. The silver metal winks at me, inviting me to reach for the smooth handle. It’s cold and light in my hands, a proper gun that can be used for self-defense.
And the possibility of that frightens me.
“No matter what,” Coach Neill whispers. “You will always be a Moretti, and you will either be prey or predator.”
Like a little rabbit, I consider while recalling the first time the boys surrounded me. Or like a wolf.
“It’s up to you, Alexandra.”
I look at her, realizing how worried she looks about my safety. With a grateful grin, I wrap my arms around her, knowing that I wouldn’t have gotten this far without her help. The moment draws out as I consider what’s brought me to this moment. Pain, heartbreak, uncertainty—yet in the midst of it all is Coach Neill, a logical and grounding point through which I’m able to discover myself.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I step back. I accept the holster for the gun and attach it to my jeans, trying to find a good place for it. “Maybe I’ll get closer to figuring out who killed my father with some protection.”
“It certainly wouldn’t hurt, Alexandra.” She crosses her arms over her chest and sighs. “Do you remember any details about the attacker? Anything worth noting?”
“No, he just—” My eyes widen as I recall the details of the experience. Everything happened so fast that it didn’t occur to me the attacker might have been trying to cover his tracks for something highly valuable hidden on my boat. “Oh shit.”
“What?”
“The notebook.” I touch my back pocket, where it’s usually safely tucked away. “I left it in a safe back in my room, but I don’t think the attacker was there for me.”
She gives me a funny look. “He tried to kill you. What are you talking about?”
“No, I think that was just the cover-up.”
She frowns. “Alexandra, what are you thinking?”
“I think the guy was there for the notebook. Demetra and I just happened to be in the way.”
Realization splashes across her features. “My God, Felipe. You’re a genius.”
“It’s the last place my mother or Amos would look,” I say with a chuckle. “That dingy gas guzzler is so gross to my mother that she won’t even acknowledge it exists.”
“A perfect hiding place.”
I take a deep, mindful breath and release it slowly. “One of the families wanted the notebook.”
“That would give them power over your estate.”
“Precisely,” I agree. “Which means, right now, I have all the power.”
She smiles with relief while placing her hand on my shoulder. “Let’s make sure to keep it that way, all right?”
“Of course.”
After leaving the basement behind, we return to the den, where I gather my things to leave. I give her a warm hug, thank her for the tea, and then return to the black car waiting for me outside. Yes, the notebook grants me power, but that will soon be irrelevant. When the time is right, I’m leaving with Lev, no matter what happens here.
I just don’t have the strength to tell Coach Neill about that.