I stretched my fingers, releasing them one by one from my Colt 1911 semi-automatic’s grip. I’d been squeezing so hard that the cross-hatch handle pattern had imprinted on my palm. Keeping my arms taut in front of me, I twisted my neck from side to side. Each cracking vertebrae calmed me.

Closing one eye and focusing down the nose of my .38 with the other, I inhaled. Slow and steady, and hold it. Ready.

With one fluid motion, I depressed the trigger. It kicked hard, just as I’d expected, and I absorbed the shock with my entire body. Twenty-five yards past the tip my barrel, the top of my target’s head ripped open, revealing a flash of neon yellow.

“Damn!” Cruz yelled into my ear. “That had to hurt!”

“You think?” I pushed the button to drag the target back to our booth. I loved watching the hole grow as the target glided nearer.

“I’m sure I can do better.” Cruz adjusted his eye gear. “Watch.”

“Oh, I’ll watch… you hit the barrier wall,” I pounded him on the back.

He dipped his head back into my booth and sucked his teeth. “Hmm. Those eyes must be going in your old age.” He tilted his head at my target. “I bet he’ll live through that.”

“Keep it up, and you might not.” I watched as he took aim, following the same routine that I had moments earlier. The young soldier had had a good teacher. Me.

He took his shot and watched the fire expel from his barrel. My other favorite part of weapons training. As his target neared the booth, I saw that his shot had hit dead center. I braced for the jibes to come about that one.

“Student surpasses the teacher,” he started in.

“You wish. It’s much different when there’s real blood and guts inside that noggin. Not just neon tape.” I was proud of him, though. It was a nice shot.

“I guess that’s what retirement does to you. Can you even still swim?” He threw his head back and roared in delight, that unruly mop of black hair shaking uncontrollably.

“I could kick your ass any day.”

“Yeah? For about the first thirty seconds before you’re gasping for air.”

“Thirty seconds, my ass. These lungs have been training for twenty years.” I pounded my chest in full gorilla fashion. “Still got two minutes in me, easy.”

“Spare me your bedroom tales.”

“I’ll spare you alright.” I removed the clip from my gun and placed both pieces on the table in front of me. Cruz followed suit. “Let’s go.” I set my watch timer.

Cruz raised his bushy eyebrows in challenge. He held up three fingers, and we both took our practice breaths. Three. Two. One.

Inhale.

We stared each other down, him with that cocky grin on his face. I didn’t want to break eye contact first, but I couldn’t help checking my watch. Forty-two seconds. I watched the digital numbers change slower than I wanted them to. I glanced back up, and Cruz’s grin widened. Damn, show of weakness checking the time.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, almost causing me to expel the breath. I looked at the screen and frowned. Commander Phillips. Showing it to Cruz, I shrugged, my finger hovering over the green icon. Cruz shook his head and raised one eyebrow again, telling me I’d forfeit if I answered.

Telling myself I had no choice, I was relieved as I exhaled the pain away. “Afternoon, Commander,” I panted.

I looked up at Cruz who held his in for another five seconds to rub it in, then exhaled as well. “Ahhh! Told ya!” he yelled between breaths.

“Do I even want to know?” Commander Phillips asked.

“No, not really, sir.”

“Is that Cruz with you?” he asked, knowing it would be no one else, Cruz being the only young buck I’d taken under my wing.

“Just giving him a shooting lesson.” I turned and walked off before he had a chance to yell that his shot had been better.

“Good. I was hoping to catch you two together. Have you given any thought to that job offer?”

“Of course not,” I lied.

“I figured as much. But I got another call from the client today. It seems things have taken a turn for the worse. He’s sure his daughter is being followed by his old partner’s men.” I didn’t respond, so he continued. “He’s offering to pay whatever it takes. He’s already lost his wife to these men. He won’t lose his daughter, too.”

“And who are these men? What do they want with her?” I betrayed my curiosity.

“Have you heard of La Familia?”

“The mafia? Great. You want my first assignment to be against one of the oldest families in D.C.?”

“Well, like I said, he’s willing to pay whatever it takes. I was thinking you and Cruz could tag team it. He’s worked some other jobs for us, so he knows the ropes.”

I cringed. “I’m not taking orders from—”

“No,” he interrupted. “But procedurally, he’ll be ready. You won’t have to worry about training him. It’s a great set up.” I could hear the hope in his voice.

Cruz had walked over to where I now stood. From the look on his face, this felt like a set up. “Just how much money are we talking?” I asked.

“A shit ton.”

“To split?”

“Each.”

Really, what could I say to that? I thought of Ma and Carmichael Gardens, with the first of the month fast approaching. “I need to meet this guy before I agree.”

Since the first conversation with Commander Phillips, when I couldn’t stop myself from considering this job, I’d been thinking of the type of man I’d be stuck working for. What egomaniac thinks he deserves high-caliber security? And what kind of spoiled little brat rich kid would I get stuck babysitting if I agreed to this?

“That can be arranged. I’ll text you the details,” Commander Phillips said, then added, “I’ll text them to Cruz.”

Did that old man just make a joke about me not texting?