The Wolf and His Wife (Wolf 2)

14

Maverick

I studied the way she held the gun. Her fingers gripped the handle, but she was so inexperienced that it was tilted slightly sideways. If she pulled the trigger, she would miss the target by several feet. “Like this.” I grabbed her wrist and righted it.

“I’m not that bad, am I?”

“When I walked into the apartment, you pointed that gun at me with the safety on. If I could tell, so could he.” I guided her fingers to hit the button and turn off the safety. “Always have this on when the gun is in your purse or on your hip. But don’t forget to turn it off the second you draw it.”

She aimed the gun at the red target in the field. The cows were in the barn, so they wouldn’t run off and accidentally get hit.

I grabbed her elbow and straightened her arm. “Use your other hand to support you.” I placed her other hand on the gun. I’d been using guns since I was fifteen years old, so it was so obvious to me when someone couldn’t handle one. “When you fire, there will be a bit of a kickback. Shoot.”

She closed one eye and tried to aim closer in on her target, her shoulders tight and her posture rigid.

I stepped back, already knowing the outcome before she even pulled the trigger.

Her fingers squeezed the trigger—and she missed. The loud bang reverberated over the land of my estate, like an echo that could shatter eardrums. The cows started to moo in the barn, hearing the sound just as well as we could.

I came back to her side. “Keep the gun steady. If you shake, the second you pull the trigger, you’re never going to hit anything.”

“They make it look so easy in the movies…”

“It is easy. You just have to know what you’re doing.” I helped her set up once more. “Again.” I stepped back.

She aimed once more. This time, she hit the target—but at the very edge.

I came back to her and tilted her head. “If you focus on the circle here, it’ll help you hit your mark.”

“I never see you use it.”

“When you get the hang of it, you don’t need it. Guns like these are used for close range. When a guy is standing right in front of you, you should be able to hit him without aiming.” I moved several feet behind her.

She kept shooting, emptying the barrel as her bullets flew through the air. She finally hit the target every time—and even got a bull’s-eye.

“Reload.” I came to her side and handed her the ammo.

She grabbed the box and pointed the gun down to access the barrel.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?”

I hit the button for the safety. “Always turn that on if you aren’t using it—especially when you’re loading ammo while the gun is pointed at your feet.”

I was caught up at work, but I chose to sit in my office just to be out of the house.

I was still pissed at my wife.

Even if she meant well, she still tiptoed around behind my back. Nothing I hated more than a stupid person thinking they were smart. She was idiotic for thinking she could approach my father for a heartfelt one-on-one conversation.

She really thought it would be that simple?

I sat at my desk and enjoyed a cigar while I looked out the window. I’d trained Arwen to use a gun, and she was proficient enough to be able to kill someone who charged her at close range.

At least she had a resource if I wasn’t around.

I had every right to be upset and kick her out of my bedroom, but when she’d asked to stay, I couldn’t refuse.

This woman made me so fucking soft.

Maybe my father was right. I really was weak.

It was embarrassing to have your wife fight your battles for you, to admit I had a broken heart and I missed the way my family used to be.

Pussy shit.

Of course, my father didn’t care.

I leaned back in the leather chair and kept smoking, letting the nicotine calm my body. I still hadn’t figured out what to do about Kamikaze. Would I round up every man I had and provoke him into uncharted territory? That seemed stupid.

But waiting for him to ambush me was stupider.

There was a real possibility Kamikaze would kill me and Arwen would become a slave.

Death wasn’t what I feared most—it was the latter.

Kamikaze respected me, so he would make the kill clean. He would just shoot me in between the eyes and put me down. There would be no torture or humiliation. For a psychopath, he could be pragmatic at times. My fate would be far more bearable than what Arwen would have to suffer through.

That was why I had to win.

For her.

But how did you defeat a man like him? We had become allies because it would be stupid to be enemies. Our Italian blood ran deep in the soil, back several generations. There was mutual respect for our culture. He did illegal shit; I did illegal shit. But we kept our mouths shut and looked the other way.