Chapter 11 Headshot
❦ Rosalind ❦
“Look alive, Dante.” I offered with a bright-eyed smile as I slipped past him into the car. He gave me a wary, confused look, clearly trying to figure out why I looked so cheery after being kidnapped the night before.
He must think I’m crazy. Only a madwoman would have this glint in her eye after nearly dying.
I’d spent the first half of the day going over my new plan, eating more food than I had in one sitting in years, and burning calories just imagining Viktor’s face when he realized I’d played him.
Dante kept glancing at me through the rearview mirror, probably considering whether he needed to book me a psych evaluation. I returned his looks with extra-wide smiles, which only made him look away faster.
My new phone buzzed. I looked down to see Juliana’s name pop up.
Juliana: I know your secret, bambina. You’re having too much fun to want to return to boring Boston.
The nickname sent heat rushing through me. Viktor called me that.
Me: Nothing fun about a burial and danger at every corner, Julie.
Juliana: Ha! I knew it.
A smile tugged at my lips. Leave it to Juliana to imagine romance at the center of every mystery.
We arrived at the shooting range, and I catwalked through the doors like I owned the place. Which, technically, I did.
The manager’s gaze swept over me from head to toe. I’d worn a short yellow dress with high boots, my skin still glowing from the hotel spa. I felt brand new, and by the look in his eyes, I knew I looked it too.
“Are you lost, babygirl?” the young man asked in a cocky tone. Luca, according to his name tag.
I tapped a blood-red stiletto nail against my chin, my eyes gliding over the array of guns and ammunition behind him and in the glass case between us.
“I need something light, quiet, and pretty.” I leaned forward, hands pressed to the glass. “Can you help me with that, Luca?”
His gaze dropped to my chest, then snapped back up to meet my sweet smile.
“I’d love to, but unfortunately we’re closed to the public today. Drop your number, and I’ll give you a call tomorrow…”
He trailed off when Dante stepped inside and moved to stand beside me.
“See anything you like?” Dante asked.
Luca looked between us, his confidence wavering. “You need to leave. The owner…”
“She is the owner,” Dante said flatly.
Luca blinked.
I slapped a stack of printed-out photos onto the glass. “Pin this to all of the targets.”
He hesitated, picking up the first sheet.
It was Viktor Marino’s face.
His eyes widened.
That’s right. I was going to practice with his face and get my headshots perfect.
Dante snorted beside me, leading me into the range. Luca brought over a slim, sleek handgun, and I nervously turned it over with quiet awe as he explained the parts and basics to me.
After he left, Dante took over, showing me the best and most comfortable positions to stand and hold my arm in.
“Relax, but steel your shoulders. All guns have a kick. It’ll hurt at first, but you’ll get used to it.”
I froze.
“It’s just self-defense, Dante. It’s not like I’ll be hunting the streets of New York myself.”
“Of course.”
I locked in on my target, his gray eyes piercing my soul. I pulled the trigger.
Pop.
I immediately looked back at the target, but Viktor’s perfect face was unmarred.
After five more unsuccessful tries, I angrily ripped the earplugs from my ears, briefly considering climbing into the target bay and pressing the gun directly to the middle of Viktor’s forehead.
I spun around to express my frustrations to Dante.
I froze.
My heart dropped into my stomach like a stone.
Dante, jaw clenched and hand on the revolver in his belt, stood beside an unamused-looking Viktor. The real deal. Flesh and blood.
Heat spread over my skin just thinking about how long he had stood there, watching me try, and fail, to put a bullet in his mug.
His eyes glinted with mockery.
“That was painful to watch.”
Anger replaced my embarrassment, simmering under my skin.
“No one asked you to watch at all.”
“It was hard to look away from, terrible as it was.”
I walked toward him, gun still in hand. I thought I saw a cautious look cross his eyes, and it pleased me to know he still considered me dangerous despite my poor aim.
“Why are you here?”
I didn’t bother hiding the irritation in my voice.
A slow, crooked smile spread across his face, taking me aback for a second. Straight white teeth, full lips cradled by a strong jaw. But when I dragged my gaze to his eyes, they were dark and cold.
In my distracted state, he whipped out his own pistol, making me yelp and flinch backward. Dante’s pistol flew up, pointing at Viktor’s head, and Viktor’s underboss, Adrian, had his gun trained on Dante’s.
Luca, useless and frozen, stared at the scene with his mouth slack.
Then Viktor slowly spun the pistol in his palm, holding it by the muzzle, and offered it to me handle-first.
I collected it, making sure to point it at the ground before I accidentally started the biggest mob war New York had ever seen.
Dante and Adrian dropped their guns, not even sparing a glance at each other.
Viktor led me back to the shooting line, one hand firmly on my hip, the other curling over my fingers on the grip of the gun.
His touch was steady, possessive, and annoyingly effective. My breath hitched.
He stood behind me, the hard planes of his chest brushing my back with every breath. I could feel the heat radiating off him like he was burning from the inside out.
No one had the right to smell this good or feel this… solid.
“Let’s work on that aim,” he murmured, his lips barely grazing the shell of my ear.
A shiver trickled down my spine, and I hated that my body responded before my brain could catch up.
He adjusted my stance slightly, his fingers trailing from my shoulder to my wrist, correcting me like he had every right to. His palm dwarfed mine, and when he aligned our hands on the gun, the pressure of his chest deepened against my back.
I swallowed.
His finger slid over mine, coaxing it gently over the trigger.
“Breathe, bambina,” he said.
Pop.
A clean shot. Right between the eyes.