Page 34 of Blood in the Water

He nodded. “Let’s start with safety.”

She spent the next two hours listening and learning, getting used to the feel of the gun in her hand. It was harder than she’d expected to hold still when she fired, not to let the gun pull up or down when she squeezed the trigger, not to flinch when she finally fired.

Nolan put her through the paces over and over, reloading from the duffel he’d brought with them. Theywalked to the trees after every round to see where her shots landed so she would have context for how the subtle movements of her body, the twitches of her hand and jerk of her shoulders, affected the trajectory of the shots.

By the time she finished firing off the last round, she was beginning to feel more natural, her arms less stiff, her shoulders down instead of up around her neck when she squeezed the trigger. The gun felt lighter in her hand than it had when she first used it, the grip seeming to mold to her palm.

She lowered the gun and removed the earplugs Nolan had given her when he went over the safety precautions of storing, holding, and using the gun.

“How’d that feel?” he asked.

“Better. Good, I think.”

“Let’s go take a look,” Nolan said.

The snow crunched under their feet as they sunk past its hardened surface to the softer snow underneath. Nolan had told her the island was only seven square miles, making it impossible to escape the frigid wind that blew in off the water on both sides. It was still hard to believe they were in the middle of the ocean, separated from Boston by miles of the Atlantic.

They followed their previous tracks to the tree that had been lined up in Bridget’s sight during the final round.

“Nice,” he said, looking at the shots she’d planted on the trunk.

She stepped in to get a better look. They were more or less in the middle of the trunk, scattered across a five foot area that ran from a foot off the ground to the top of Bridget’s head.

It was satisfying to see the holes, even though she feltbad for the tree, to see how much progress she’d made in a couple of hours.

“This is good, Bridge,” Nolan said. “And remember, you don’t need to be super accurate — just keep firing until you drop whoever’s coming at you.”

He said it casually, and she wondered if she would really be able to do it if the situation called for it, if she would be able to end the life of another human being.

Her worry must have shown on her face, because he took the gun from her hand, engaged the safety, and put it into the holster he’d been carrying in his pocket. Then he pulled her into his arms.

“It’ll be okay,” he murmured into her hair. “You’re probably not even going to have to use it, but it’s good that you know how.”

“What if I can’t do it?”

He held her face in his hands. “You’d be surprised what you can do when the safety of the people you love is at stake.” He pulled her against him and she sank into the refuge of his body. “But I fucking hate that it’s come to this.”

The anguish in his voice shook her. She wanted him focused on getting Seamus and Baren out of Southie, on making it out of the turf war alive.

“Don’t worry about me.” She looked up at him. “You’re right: I would do anything for the people I love, and I’d do it without a second thought.”

She was even more sure it was true when she looked into his eyes. Would she protect Owen and her parents even at the expense of another human life?

Yes.

And she would pay the same price for Nolan.

He lowered his head to hers, sweeping her mouth into a kiss that grew from tender to passionate. She ripped hergloves off her hands, not bothering to pause their kiss, then slipped her hands under his coat. The warmth of his body against her cold hands was like fire on ice, and a sizzle ran through her body as the kiss became more fevered, his tongue sparring with hers, warming her body from the inside out.

The timing was terrible, the temperature biting, but she wasn’t thinking about any of it as she unzipped his jeans, slipped her now-warmed hands inside the waistband to take him in her hands.

He groaned, trailing kisses down her throat, pulling off his own gloves when he grew frustrated with his inability to touch her properly. He slid his bare hands inside her coat and under her shirt, pulled down her bra to cup her breasts, the nipples erect under his thumbs.

“Please…” She gasped. “I need you inside me.”

He kissed the base of her throat. “You’ll freeze.”

“I’m not cold,” she said against the coat covering his chest. “Not even a little.”