Chapter Six Practice

CHAPTER SIX PRACTICE

As I tracked across Felice’s back garden, the barn rose to meet me – it was tall and broad, and made of concrete. Fall had come and with it the air had grown crisper. There was a biting chill in the wind now, and the trees on Felice’s land were turning vibrant shades of orange and yellow. It was pretty, almost like a picture, this assassin’s palace. In another time, I might have felt at ease here. I might have grown to love it.

I stalled behind the barn, hidden from the windows of the house, and wrapped my arms around myself. My winter coat was still back in Cedar Hill, stuffed somewhere inside my wardrobe. A million miles away.

I watched my breath fog in the air and tried to imagine how cold it would be here in the middle of December. A blanket of snow and ice – and inside, crackling fires in every hearth to chase away the chill. December brought thoughts of Christmas. Of stockings and candy canes and turkey dinners. Of presents and eggnog and family. Would we all survive until then? How black would my soul be by Christmas morning?

I heard his breath on the wind before he caught up with me. He fell out of his jog and offered me a surprisingly warm smile considering I had harassed him out of bed at such an indecent time. ‘Good morning!’ he said, beaming at me in all that Colgate splendour.

Of course Nic had had the good sense to wear a winter coat. His hair was messy – ungelled, and flopping across his forehead. He pushed it back. He looked peaky – half warm and half pale, probably from being wrenched out of bed at such an ungodly hour.

‘You’re late.’ I tapped at an imaginary watch. ‘I said seven a.m. sharp.’

‘I’m not a morning person,’ he said, his grin turning sheepish.

‘Is that why your smile is starting to twitch?’

‘I just downed two double espressos,’ he confided. ‘I think my face is vibrating.’

‘Well, you could never tell.’ I smiled at him. ‘Thanks for coming.’

He shrugged, but my smile had brought on his own, and I made a mental note to be very careful about how this meeting progressed. It was business, not pleasure.

Nic cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck around, warming up. ‘So, why do we have to be so secretive about this again? Valentino will be happy.’ He had asked me the same thing last night when I ambushed him in the middle of brushing his teeth.

‘I told you I don’t want anyone to know until I know what I’m doing.’

Translation: I don’t want Luca to know.

Even if Luca intended to risk everything to break the promise I made to his twin, I certainly didn’t.

‘You sure that’s it?’ Nic edged a little closer, his grin turning wolfish. ‘Or is there something else going on here that I don’t know about? Because you don’t have to make up excuses to spend time with me, you know. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be…’

‘Nic…’ I pressed my palm against his chest and pushed him back gently. ‘We talked about this.’

‘So, let’s talk about it again, now that things have changed.’

‘Nothing’s changed,’ I said gently. ‘We’re not good for each other.’

A frown rippled along his forehead. ‘For the record, I disagree,’ he said. ‘I think we are good for each other.’

My smile turned awkward, but I kept my tone light. ‘To be in a relationship with someone, both parties kind of need to agree that they’re good for each other, Nic… it can’t just be you. It’s not enough.’

Nic shrugged. ‘Take as much time as you need, Sophie. I’ll change your mind eventually.’ His determination puffed him up, made him seem taller.

‘You’re always so sure of everything,’ I said, half-chastising him.

‘That’s because I always get what I want,’ he said, confidently.

Not this. Not me.

I decided to flip the subject before the intensity of where this was going steered us off course. ‘Do you have the gun?’ I whispered.

Nic’s laugh shattered the morning silence. He backed up and made a show of looking all around him. ‘You really don’t have to whisper about guns in this house – you get that, right? This doesn’t have to be a secret.’

‘I don’t want anyone to find out that I’m learning,’ I said quickly.

‘Of course you’re learning. How are you going to drop a Marino if you don’t know how to shoot a gun?’ He regarded me quizzically. Then he laughed again. ‘You are so funny, Sophie.’

Nic pulled a gun from his waistband and my heart did a miniature somersault. I really had to get a grip. ‘Can you hold this for a minute?’ He handed it to me and I took it on reflex, surprised at the weight. It was sleek and silver, with a black bar of colour running along the top. I was extra, extra careful not to brush the trigger as I studied it at arm’s length.

Nic zipped up his coat until it reached just below his chin. Damn, he looked so warm. I was trying not to shiver. I was also trying to look totally nonchalant with a gun dangling by my side.

He gestured at the gun. ‘The safety’s on, you can relax.’

‘I’m totally relaxed,’ I said, forcing a laugh that sounded like a dying hyena. ‘I’ve never been more relaxed.’

I passed the gun back to him, the barrel end pointing away from us, laying it flat on the palm of his hand, like it was an ancient artefact.

He laughed again. ‘You are so adorable.’

‘Stop making fun of me!’

‘OK, sorry,’ he said, smoothing his features into a terrible attempt at seriousness. ‘I’ll do my best.’ He beckoned me around the front of the barn.

I fell into step with him. ‘Why are you going in there?’

He unlocked the door and pushed it open, pausing on the threshold to answer me. ‘Where did you think we were going to have the target practice?’

‘Um…’

‘Here?’ he said, gesturing at the open grounds – at the beehives dotting the back garden, at the clusters of trees in the distance, at the back of the house and all those breakable windows. ‘Just out in the open like this?’

‘Um, no…’ I said, looking at my shoes. ‘That would be bad?’

Nic snorted. ‘Bad is one word for it.’

The barn was a huge open space with concrete floors and a continuous line of windows so high up I couldn’t see out of them. Morning sunlight streamed through them, brightening the room. At the opposite end, there were twelve targets lined up in front of the wall – twelve thick wooden bases with black human cut-outs jutting out from them, just like in the movies.

‘Oh,’ I said, realizing exactly what this barn was here for. ‘I get it now.’

Nic was leaning against a long wooden table behind us. ‘You didn’t think he harvested crops here, did you?’

‘I never thought about it.’ OK, maybe a small part of me had pictured a barn stacked to the rafters with thousands of honey jars, all black-ribboned and waiting for their recipients. In hindsight, that would have been a bit much, even by Felice’s standards.

Nic pulled the drawer from the table and rummaged inside. He handed me a pair of safety goggles. I examined them dubiously. ‘Are these necessary?’ I rotated them in my hand. ‘I didn’t think you guys wore safety goggles when you were out doing family business.’ ‘Doing family business’. That’s right, Sophie, act more like a child.

‘Nah,’ Nic said, handing me a pair of foam earplugs. ‘But maybe for your first time, we’ll take some precautions. Just until you get used to the noise.’

I half wished there were knee pads and helmets as well. I was not feeling confident about my skills. I slid the goggles on to my face. They were way too big, balancing precariously on the end of my nose. I pushed them back and they slipped down again. ‘Noooo,’ I said, colouring my voice with dismay. ‘My face is rejecting the glasses.’

Nic pressed the goggle arms towards each other, so they gripped behind my ears better. I stared at his chest, his alpine scent covering me as he fixed them. ‘It’s because your nose is so small.’ He tapped my nose with his finger. ‘It’s cute,’ he murmured, looking at me beneath those thick lashes of his.

It was hard, in moments like this, not to remember the first time we ever spoke, how he looked at me like I was the only person in the world. How he kissed me like it was the first and last kiss he’d ever have. The Nic I thought I knew – the one I thought I needed. There were shades of that desire inside me still, but I had buried them for a reason. I had to remember why.

Nic was distractingly close to me now and my head was exploding with shouts of Don’t you dare touch him! Step away from the enigmatic assassin right now!

I stepped backwards. ‘Nic,’ I said, chastising.

He held a hand up in surrender, the corner of his mouth flicking upwards in a lazy half-smile. ‘I was just saying.’

‘We’re here to work, remember?’ I slipped the earplugs inside my ears.

‘Yes, ma’am.’ His smile grew. ‘Are you ready?’ I could only half hear him. I nodded. ‘OK. Watch.’

He took two steps forward, planting his feet. Raising his arm, he aimed the gun at the other end of the room and fired off six shots in quick succession.

Even with the earplugs, the noise was relentless.

A bullet hole appeared in each of the first six target heads – right in the middle. He pulled a magazine from his pocket and reloaded so fast I barely caught the movement. The next six holes appeared in the left side of the chest of each of the remaining dummies. The whole thing took less than ten seconds.

Twelve targets in ten seconds. And he hadn’t even broken a sweat. He was relaxed, his expression placid, his breathing slow and natural.

When he was done, he lowered the gun, reloaded it and swivelled to face me.

I gaped at him. If I didn’t think too much about the end goal of his shooting, and only focused on the skill, I couldn’t help but feel awed. It was all so quick and effortless. ‘Your aim is…’

‘Unparalleled,’ he finished, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his features. ‘I told you. Your turn.’

I looked at the targets again. They seemed so impossibly far away now; I could barely see the holes he’d made. ‘Can I move closer?’ I asked. ‘Like way, way, way closer.’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t chicken out before you’ve started. I’ll bet you’ll be good at it.’

I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘No, you don’t.’

He laughed again. It was loud and carefree and giddy this time. The feel of the gun – of shooting – did something to his whole demeanour. It made him happy. Really, truly happy. Beneath all the anger and fear and determination, there was a pinch of something else taking hold of me. It was jarring, that a boy so young could be so maniacally entertained by all of this. Still, this was the boy who was going to help me get what I needed – revenge – and in the moment, that was what mattered to me most.

‘OK,’ he conceded, ‘I don’t think you’ll be an expert on your first try. But I do think you’re very teachable.’

The gun was hot in my hands. I embraced the heat and let the warmth filter up my arm.

‘Don’t fear it,’ Nic said. ‘This gun is your ally. It works for you.’

‘What if I shoot myself?’

‘Have some confidence, Sophie. You’re taking back your power. Stand up straighter.’ He laid his hands on my shoulders and I leant back into them, raising my chin. ‘Good,’ he breathed, his voice against my ear. ‘You’re ready for this.’

He lingered a couple of seconds more than necessary.

‘OK.’ I squared my jaw and locked eyes with the targets. ‘Teach me.’

Nic dropped his hands and came to my side, his attention trained on my stance. ‘Plant your feet.’ The amusement had drained from his voice. This was the Nic I needed. This was the Nic who was going to teach me what I wanted to know. ‘Bend your knees just a little. Good. Now square your shoulders towards the target. Fully extend your strong arm. Now pull the slide back with your other hand.’ It clicked into place. There was a sickening thrill in the sound.

‘Bring your left arm around and cup the other side of the gun. No – not so loose.’ He moved around me, his arms coming over my shoulders against my own, his chin resting against my hair as his hands covered mine. ‘Like this,’ he said, shifting my left hand so my fingers cupped the gun. His breath was hot on my neck. I tried to ignore it. He moved his right hand over mine, shifting it higher. ‘Just one finger on the trigger,’ he said, his finger pressing mine into place. ‘Three fingers on the grip.’ He squeezed the rest of his hand over mine, dwarfing it. ‘Keep your feet planted. You need to be able to absorb the recoil.’

I tried to focus. I was not supposed to be feeling this urge to make out with him. He was still morally corrupt – still dangerous, still bad for me. He was still that same boy that had pointed a gun at my head inside the diner. He was still the brother of the guy who was kind and good and smart… My brain knew that. Even my heart did. But right now, in these close quarters, my body didn’t.

‘I’ve got it,’ I said, shuffling out of his grip. ‘I can do it.’

He stepped away from me, leaving my back cold and tingly. ‘OK,’ he said, pointing towards the targets at the other end of the barn. ‘Now bring the gun up to eye level, keep your arms straight out in front of you and aim.’

I hunched up my shoulders, my arms bordering both sides of my peripheral vision. I pointed the gun at one of the middle targets at the end of the room.

‘Picture someone,’ he said. ‘It will make it seem more real.’

I let out a breath. ‘I see Donata.’ I lowered the gun a little, tracing the imaginary lines of her expensive designer suit, her bony neck. ‘I’m aiming at her heart.’

‘Good,’ he murmured. ‘She took yours, now you’ll take hers.’

My mouth had gone dry. My arms were buzzing, and my breathing was coming more rapidly.

‘Let the adrenalin steady you.’ He was behind me again, his hands on my shoulders as he turned me just an inch to the left. He squeezed once – a reinforcement – and then withdrew. ‘Let it focus you.’

I envisioned Donata’s overly made-up face, her sickly grin. I imagined her pallor drained by fear as I aimed my gun at her skeletal frame.

‘Fire,’ he breathed. ‘Kill the bitch.’

I fired.

My hand snapped backwards, the gun veering towards the ceiling on its recoil. ‘Shit,’ I hissed, releasing the trigger. ‘I didn’t think it would be so strong.’

‘You’ll get used to it,’ Nic assured me, unfazed by the fail. ‘Keep your hand steadier this time. Don’t let the recoil push your grip backwards.’

The exhilaration of firing the gun was fast being eclipsed by the fact that I didn’t get anywhere on the target. I squinted. ‘Where did the bullet go?’

Nic pointed towards the ground on the right of the Donata target. ‘It’s lodged in the wall.’

‘Well, that’s embarrassing.’

‘Your arm lagged.’ Nic stood behind me again. He lifted my hand with his until the gun was in front of me again. ‘You have five more bullets in this magazine. Five more chances to hit a target before we reload.’

I focused entirely on the task at hand, not his breath on my cheek or his voice in my ear. Our arms lined up, and I was thankful for his coat and my sweater. Skin-to-skin would not be a good idea right now. ‘Line up your sight. Hold steady.’

Donata’s features shifted into view. I saw her in my mind’s eye, as plainly as if she was there in front of me.

‘Again,’ he said, pulling back. ‘Shoot her.’

I fired again.

This time I was expecting the recoil. My arm still flinched, but not much. I missed the target.

‘Again,’ Nic commanded.

I replanted myself and fired.

Miss.

‘Again.’

Miss.

‘Higher.’

I held my arm higher. It was starting to get tired.

‘Again.’

Miss.

‘Again,’ he demanded.

That one hit the torso of the target next to the one I was aiming for. The bullets had run out. I dropped my arm, and realized I was panting. Frustration and embarrassment warred inside me.

‘Damn it,’ I cursed. ‘I can’t do it, Nic.’ I wanted to throw the gun across the room. ‘I’m terrible at this.’ I am powerless. I am weak.

Nic took the gun from me and reloaded it. ‘You’re a beginner.’

‘A bad one.’

Nic frowned at me. ‘Stop being so hard on yourself.’

‘I want to be good at this,’ I said. ‘Like, immediately.’

Nic threw his head back and laughed at the ceiling. ‘Sophie,’ he said, amusement trilling in his voice. ‘You can’t make yourself an expert marksman in ten minutes. Give yourself the time you need to work on it. I’ll help you, but you need to go easier on yourself.’

‘I can’t,’ I huffed, watching the gun in his hands. The ease with which he handled it, the lazy confidence in his stance. Here was something else unexpected: jealousy . ‘There’s too much at stake.’

His face dropped, seriousness returning like a storm cloud across his features. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘But you’ll get there. I promise you. You will have your revenge.’ He handed me the gun, loaded again. I took it, determination pulling me back into the shooting stance. ‘The hardest thing to master is the trigger pull. You flinch when you pull it and it throws your body off-kilter. Your brain is telling you to compensate for the recoil but you need to overrule that part of you.’

I refocused on the Donata target. Those wide black-rimmed eyes. Those thin red-stained lips. I’m going to make you pay.

‘I’m ready,’ I said, before he could ask me.

‘Then what are you waiting for?’

I pulled the trigger, this time fighting the recoil. The gun stayed entirely straight, and the bullet, when it hit, sailed right through the target’s right shoulder.

‘Excellent!’ Nic whooped. ‘You’re a natural!’

I fired again. A miss, but a close one. Then two more misses.

‘Focus,’ Nic warned. ‘Watch the recoil.’

I shot again, and this time the bullet landed right in the middle of Donata’s torso.

‘A killing blow!’ Nic shouted. ‘See,’ he said, pointing at the two bullet holes in the target. ‘You got her!’

I set my teeth, elation rising inside me. Pushing the darker feelings down, down, down, I shot again. This one landed in her breastbone.

‘She’s dead.’ Nic broke into raucous laughter. ‘You got her!’

‘I got her!’ I cried, dropping the emptied gun to my side. ‘I can do this!’ The feeling of power flooded me, and it was delicious and warm and all-consuming. I was good at this. I was good, and it was only my first time. I would get better. I would be amazing.

‘Look,’ said Nic, taking the emptied gun from me and using it to point at the target. He put his other arm around my shoulder and pulled me against him. I slid my arm around his back, fighting the urge to jump up and down like an excited child. We stood side by side, examining the target and basking in the glow of my small triumph. My ears were ringing, my arm was buzzing, and I was grinning like a mad person. ‘See,’ he said, moving the gun-pointer to the three separate holes. ‘You did that. All of those.’

We were falling in and out of giddy laughter, still staring at the target with disbelief, when six more shots rang out.

I watched them dent the target – my target. Six holes forming a perfectly vertical straight line from the target’s collarbone to its navel, like the buttons of a winter coat. Six perfect shots.

I turned towards the shooter, my heart climbing up my throat.

‘Maybe she’ll be able to do that,’ said Luca. He reloaded in a blur and fired off six more. Every single one landed in the middle of the target’s forehead. ‘Or that,’ he said, lowering his gun. ‘If she really practises.’ He turned towards us, shoving his gun back into the waistband of his jeans. ‘What do you think, Sophie? Would you like to be able to do that?’

His voice was dangerously even. Nerves swarmed inside me, sucking all the warmth and joy from the moment. I swallowed hard.

Luca gestured at me and Nic. ‘You’ll probably have to unstick yourself from Nicolò, first. If you really want to hone your skills.’

There. Beneath the anger flashing in his eyes, the hard set of his mouth, there was a flicker of something else. Hurt. Why the hell would he be hurt? Something lurched inside me – hope that he might still care for me that way… and then an alarm sounded in my head. Nic still had his arm around me, and it looked like… Oh, God.

Oh no. Oh no no no no.

I stepped away from Nic. His arm fell with a thump to his side, and I folded mine across my torso. It was freezing in here. How had I not noticed that until now? And why couldn’t I think of anything to say? My mouth had gone dry, and my brain was just… stagnant.

‘She’s really good already, Luca.’ Pride lit up Nic’s voice. He was so not getting the undertone of our conversation. A huge part of me was glad about that. ‘I think you’ll be impressed.’

Luca was still looking at me. ‘Will I?’

‘Yeah.’ Nic turned to me, the gun held out, bridging the big gap I had made between us. His smile was encouraging, his voice full of affection, when he said, ‘Do you want to show him?’

I shook my head. ‘No, thanks.’

‘Go on.’ Nic winked at me. ‘He’ll be impressed.’

I didn’t dare look at Luca.

‘Go on,’ he said, his voice silky. ‘Why don’t you show me, Sophie? Show me what you’ve been up to out here all morning.’

‘I’m too cold,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to.’

‘Come on,’ said Nic, bewilderment colouring his tone. ‘You were so excited before.’

‘Was she?’

‘I’m tired,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to right now.’

‘I want Luca to see what a good teacher I am. Let’s show him what a good team we are.’ I knew Nic was teasing me, but that was not the right thing to say in the moment. Not the way he lingered over the word team . I could practically feel Luca bristling.

‘No,’ I said, my answer firm.

‘Fine,’ said Luca quickly. He was over this. Theatrics weren’t his thing, thankfully. ‘Some other time, perhaps.’ He turned to Nic, his tone clipped. ‘Valentino is holding a meeting in ten minutes. Libero Marino is back in Chicago.’ He gestured behind him, in the direction of the house. ‘He wants to speak to you about doing some recon in the city.’

Nic seemed to grow to twice his size in that moment. ‘Whatever he needs.’

He was so… malleable .

I frowned, scolding myself for thinking less of the boy who had just been helping me. Nic was what he was; there was nothing to be ashamed of. He was a soldier. That was his calling and he was good at it.

Luca simply nodded. ‘We’ll follow you inside.’

Nic took his leave, grinning at me over his shoulder. ‘We’ll reconvene this afternoon?’ He left the question in the air, and when I didn’t respond, he sealed the answer with a wink. ‘This was fun.’

And then he was gone, and the door was falling shut behind him, and I was wondering if I could scale the walls of the barn and slither out through a window before Luca gave me the tongue-lashing that was so obviously building up inside him. Would it be worth the drop on the other side?

I raised my chin. I would not be afraid of him or his words. He wasn’t my keeper. He didn’t control me. I could do what I wanted.

‘I wanted to learn,’ I said evenly. ‘And you wouldn’t teach me.’

He didn’t even blink. ‘So you found someone who would.’

Why the hell did I feel so ashamed of myself? I hadn’t done anything wrong. Nic was proud of me. Nic was helping me. He was giving me the confidence I needed to walk this new path, and Luca was intent on taking it away. Screw that. ‘Nic wants me to be happy.’

Something flitted across Luca’s face. ‘Nicolò wants you to be like him.’

‘Would that be so bad?’

That look again – fleeting. I caught it that time. Betrayal. He thought I had betrayed him.

‘Say something,’ I said. ‘Get angry if you want, but don’t just stand there glaring at me.’

Show me you still care. Show me something real.

The silence stretched out.

I just wanted it to make sense.

A muscle feathered in his jaw. ‘I don’t have anything to say to you, Sophie.’

And then he was gone. But the guilt remained, burrowing deep. I added it to the great, heaving pile already teetering inside me.