Grabbing my ear protection from around the shifter, I placed it over my ears since I could already hear the lone occupant of the handgun range shooting up a storm.
It’d literally not stopped since we’d arrived. Nine shots, reload a clip, nine more shots.
That didn’t surprise me, though. Some people did it like that.
Though I was surprised to see that the shooter was a woman.
A sexy woman in jeans so tight that it made my mouth water.
She’d also caught the attention of Foster, too.
Her long black hair was down to her ass in soft waves, and her shirt declared her to have some affiliation to the Kilgore Fire Department.
Foster nudged me, moving his head towards the woman.
Trance didn’t even bother to look. He had a woman at home that he loved more than the air he breathed, as well as two beautiful children.
He didn’t need to look. He had it all.
Everything that I wished I had, but never told anybody about.
We waited for another five minutes for her to stop shooting before we announced ourselves, and when we did, she whipped around like she’d been shocked with a cattle prod.
That’s when my mind started to put together all the pieces.
“Hey Mercy,” I said softly. “It’s okay.”
I said it soothingly, mainly because she was gripping the gun like she’d pull it up at any second, even though we all knew she was out.
Her eyes darted between Trance and Foster, her mind rapidly taking in their huge forms before she settled on me.
When she did, she visibly relaxed, all the tension that’d worked into her body the moment we announced ourselves dissipated, flowing out of her as if it’d never been.
“Miller,” she breathed with relief. “Y’all scared me.”
We could tell.
Trance looked at the woman curiously, but Foster realized who she was just about the same time that I had.
Foster had kept himself scarce while Mercy had been over at our place. However, he wasn’t deaf. He’d heard the conversation, courtesy of the shitty walls in the apartment. He’d also seen her while she was sleeping.
Now, though, she looked pretty badass compared to her previous broken state at my apartment.
“You look good, Mercy,” I said softly. “Whatcha shootin’?”
I knew what she was shooting, but it was an ice breaker to get her to talk.
My brothers took that as their cue to start setting up, and I sat my bag on the counter when I walked over to Mercy slowly.
She really did look better.
Dressed in her own clothes and shoes, with her hair washed and down, she looked like a totally different person.
Even when I’d seen her yesterday, pressed up against the window…she looked like someone else. This Mercy looked like she was comfortable in her own skin. She looked like she’d never experienced the atrocity that’d happened to her yesterday.
Mercy held out her gun for me to look at. A pink .38 that fit her small hand like a glove.
“You come here often?” I asked, touching the pink grips with the tip of my finger.
She nodded. “Every Monday. I thought it best to keep up my regular routine.”
I could understand that. Routines were important to most normal people…but to people that were fucked up…routines were crucial.
Something I knew all too well.
“This is a good place to come. You want to shoot with us?” I asked.
I expected her to say no, but she surprised the shit out of me by saying, “Yes.”
She must’ve read the surprise written all over my face, because she laughed softly. “I’m out of bullets.”
I smiled. “Lucky for you we have enough ammo to hold off a small siege.”
She raised her hand and ran it up and down my arm. “Thank you, Miller.”
I lifted my own and patted her hand. “Anytime, Mercy Me.”
She grinned. “Mercy Me. I like it.”
I raised my eyebrows at her. “Now, let’s see what you can do with a real gun.”
She snorted as she followed me over to where my brothers were standing, guns on the counter in front of them.
“Is it safe to walk the target out there?” Trance asked.
Mercy giggled. “Sorry. I was a little…distracted.”
Trance, nor Foster, said anything, but I could tell they wanted to. That just went to show they knew how to handle women.
“Now, you may show me what the big boys play with,” she teased.
I smiled wide at her. “Your wish is my command.”
Foster snorted, and a smile played at Mercy’s lips as she tried her best not to comment.
Although she was still slightly nervous, she started to come out of her shell when, not only me, but my brothers, started showing off their prized possessions.
She shot nearly two clips out of each handgun that we’d taken to the range with us.
By the time we were gathering up our belongings to head to the rifle range, Mercy had become comfortable around the three of us.
It was when I was walking her to her car that she stopped and looked up at me.
“Thank you for helping me, Miller,” she replied thankfully.
I touched the tip of her nose with one of my fingers, eyes alight on the freckles she had dusted over her cheeks and nose. “That was all you, honey.”
She smiled sadly at me. “No, it was not.”
When she made a move to go to her car, I stopped her by taking a hold on her wrist.
Her skin felt smooth beneath my work roughened palms, and her bones felt tiny.
I could literally wrap my thumb and forefinger around her wrist with my thumb nearly touching my second knuckle.
She looked back at me with a raised brow in question. “What?”
I moved closer when I heard my brothers’ step out of the range behind us.
“You really did do it on your own. I haven’t done a thing for you that you couldn’t have done for yourself. You’re an amazing woman, Mercy. Your coping skills amaze me,” I said truthfully.
An embarrassed smile tilted up the corners of her lips. “You don’t even have the first clue, Miller. I’m not that girl. I just put on a good act.”