“You have a shooting range? Seriously?” Why Ro sounded so shocked, Graham wasn’t entirely certain.
“We have to stay sharp, and some of the hunters like to target shoot when they’re not out slaying bucks. This building is reinforced and soundproofed. It doubles as a safe room.”
“What else are you hiding here? As soon as I think I’ve got this place figured out, you throw something like this at me.” She turned to face him after he settled her on a stool. “You going to share the rest of your secrets?”
Graham smiled at the attitude she couldn’t help but radiate. She was a spitfire. And something about her fired his blood like no woman before. He held out the M4 he’d grabbed from the armory.
“You hit the target … I’ll answer a question.”
Ro accepted the assault rifle and held out her hand. “Magazine?”
Graham held one out, and she tried to tug it from his grip. “But every time you miss, you owe me something I want.”
Ro’s gaze narrowed, and she slid the magazine into place without breaking his stare, flipped off the safety, and chambered a round.
Graham glanced to make sure she’d left it on the single-round setting rather than the three-round burst.
“I got this, Conan. I’m not shooting three at a time.”
Well, fuck. This might not go as planned, Graham thought.
“And why do you know that?” he asked, grabbing a paper target.
“No answers unless I miss. Target?”
Graham had just clipped the target to the pulley system. He’d initially thought to keep it closer, but instead he cranked it all the way to the end of the lane.
She raised her eyebrows as if to say “Oh, really? This is how we’re going to play?”
Graham settled ear protection over her ears and slid safety glasses onto her face before donning his own. She gave him a nod and then raised the rifle. Pausing for only a fraction of a second, she squeezed the trigger.
Graham counted. Fifteen shots. Only one was outside of the red center circle of the target. Graham suspected she’d been trying to eliminate every sliver of red on the paper and gone wide. She lowered the rifle and jerked her head toward the target. “Since I owe you one answer: my dad felt it was important for his daughters to know their way around every gun in his arsenal. The M4 was always my favorite. Erica preferred the bolt action .308.”
Graham reached for the crank and pulled the target in. He laid the remains on the counter in front of Rowan, quite sure his cock jerking to life was a completely inappropriate reaction, but he couldn’t help it. The woman was sexy as fuck. Casually gripping a rifle perched on a stool in too big sweats and a too big hoody; she was lethal. Graham suppressed his grin and reached for his sidearm. He pulled the M1911 .45 ACP out of its holster and ejected the magazine and the round in the chamber. He slid the extra bullet into his pocket, and held out the unloaded pistol and magazine to her.
“This might be more of a challenge.” She reached out to pick them up, and he pulled his hands back. “You sure you can handle it? It’s a big gun for a little girl.”
“Seriously? Did you just see me kill your little target? I can handle the kick, Conan.”
“Okay. Have at it then.”
She grasped the pistol and inspected it before checking the clip, sliding it in, flipping off the safety, and chambering a round. She did it all in one smooth, fluid motion. Like her hands had done that very action a thousand times before. Like it was muscle memory. Who the hell was this girl who carried a MOLLE backpack, handled firearms with ease, and responded to him and Zach like she’d been custom made for them? Kryptonite. Fucking kryptonite.
She flipped the safety back on and looked up at him expectantly.
“New target?”
Graham shook himself and pulled a new target from the clipboard attached to the wall and hung it on the clip before starting to crank it out. He looked down at her seated form—her head only came up to his shoulder—even on the tall stool. “How far do you want to go?” Her eyes flared, assuring him the double entendre wasn’t lost on her.
“All the way,” she replied, smiling a temptress’s smile.
Graham ignored his erection, which was now bordering on obscene, and cranked the target out to the end. He stepped back to stand behind her and watched in awe as she raised the .45 and unloaded the seven-round magazine in less than ten seconds. Except for the first shot, which had gone a little high, she’d grouped her shots within a circle the size of a softball. Not bad at all. She re-engaged the safety, ejected the magazine, and handed both back to him with a grin.
“I think that means I get to ask the questions now.”
Graham opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted.
“I think I’m in love with your girl.”
Graham and Rowan swung around to see Travis and Jamie standing just inside the closed door.
“I don’t know about love, but I’ve definitely got a boner for her. Damn, woman,” Jamie said.
Graham’s jaw clenched as annoyance surged through him. He wasn’t sure why he cared, but this had been their moment, and the intrusion was decidedly unwelcome.
“What do you need?” Graham bit out.
The grins evaporated, and both men straightened into posture that spoke of years in the military. Travis looked like he was about to salute.
“You weren’t answering your radio, G. Ty mentioned you’d headed for some target practice. Two of the perimeter sensors have tripped. Thought you’d want to know.”
Graham looked down at the radio strapped to his belt. The green light was off. Fuck. He was so goddamn caught up in Rowan that he didn’t even realize the battery was dead. Graham grabbed an extra magazine from his cargo pocket and loaded the M1911 before handing it back to Rowan. Her features screwed up in confusion. He looked to Travis and held out a hand. “Give me your radio.”
Travis also looked confused, but complied. Graham turned up the volume before setting it on Rowan’s lap. He dragged the stool across the room and pulled her up next to the door and in front of the counter that ran along the back wall of the room.
“Do not move from this stool. Bolt the door behind me. You’ll be able to hear everything that’s going on, but don’t use the radio unless someone speaks to you directly. I’ll be back as soon as I can and radio to let you know it’s me. Do not open the door until Zach or I come for you.” He opened the cabinet on the wall above her head. “There’s water, food, blankets, lanterns, and a whole bunch of other crap in here. I shouldn’t be long, but if I am, you’re well-provisioned.”
When she opened her mouth to protest, he kissed her. Hard. “I need you safe, babe.” He pulled away and pointed to the section of the floor to the right of the stool. It was covered by worn, gray industrial carpet squares. “If things go bad and someone tries to breach the building, I expect you to carefully hop off this stool, shove the carpet aside, and turn the round metal handle that is recessed in the concrete. It will trigger a hydraulic system, and a small section of the floor will lift like a trap door. You get down the ladder without hurting yourself and hit the red actuator on the wall behind the ladder. It’ll release the hydraulics and engage a lock. No one will be able to get in from up here until you hit the actuator again.”
Ro’s mouth dropped opened, and her eyes widened almost comically.
“With the supplies down there, you’d be set for years.”
“Holy shit. Who are you guys?” Ro whispered. She glanced at the contents of the cabinet in front of her. “And you have peanut butter Power Bars …” Her expression turned blissful before sobering, as if just remembering the seriousness of the situation.
Graham smiled, ducked in for another kiss and turned back to the men.
“Let’s go.”