Iron

by Amy Isan

  After hopping off the bike and walking up next to him, he hands me the gun. I grasp the handle tightly, making my knuckles go white. “Don’t death grip it,” he orders. The handle is warm to the touch and Logan is nearly touching my shoulder with his arm. I want him to.

  I lift the gun up and hold the bottom of it with my left hand like I saw him do. I aim down the top of the gun and try to keep my swaying under control. “Just relax,” his voice says. “Just breathe.”

  I pinch the trigger and nothing happens. It won’t move. I grunt and try squeezing it tighter, but it’s no use. “You can cock it if pulling it straight is too tough,” Logan says.

  I pull the gun down from my dead-lock and stare at it. I knock the hammer back with a metallic clunk. This time I breathe and try to focus as I squeeze the trigger. The bang is loud and shocking. I flinch and let the gun carry itself upward from the recoil. I can’t help it. When I open my eyes, all the bottles and cans are still standing. Logan chuckles a little.

  I frown. “Don’t laugh.”

  “Everyone flinches their first time,” he says. He touches my arm and loosens my locked elbows. When his hands touch my skin and send electricity shooting through me, it actually helps relax me a little. “Just stay calm, like I said. Let me help.” He moves behind me and slides his hands down my arms, before he grips my forearms. His warm and intoxicating scent curls around me and his voice is deep and gravelly in my ear. I want to melt in his arms.

  “Raise the gun again,” he commands. I obey and his hands tighten their grip on my forearms. His voice is like sweet chocolate. “Try squeezing the trigger, don’t close your eyes.” I cock the gun with my thumb and some effort.

  He’s so relaxed and I feel so anxious in comparison. I try to channel that kind of vibe, that cold determination that he has. The one I admire. The one that brought us all the way down here, snuck past the border, and found a hook up so we could sleep somewhere. I pull the trigger as I exhale and watch the round soar right into a bottle and break it apart.

  I laugh and turn to him. His lips lock mine and we kiss. I feel the gun go heavy in my hands and he takes it from me. I slowly twist until we’re facing each other, and our arms are wrapped around each other. His kiss is deep, passionate, and overwhelming. I feel tears well up in my eyes and streak down my cheeks.

  After we release each other, I stumble over to his motorcycle and lean on it. I feel a little lightheaded from all the excitement. He’s beaming at me.

  “Why me?” I ask, suddenly feeling sadness grip my chest.

  He looks stunned. “What?”

  “Why did you pick me? Why protect me from everything? I’m all the way down in Mexico with you now, and you didn’t have to do any of this. You could have walked away.”

  His smile comes back and he walks over to me again. He looks down and strokes my cheek with his hand, before touching my chin with his thumb. “Because you light a fire in me... I haven’t felt in a long time...” He trails off, his gaze moving past me. “I don’t know how to explain it, myself.”

  “I understand,” I say. I touch my chest and feel my heart racing with an intensity I’m still growing used to when I’m around him. “I feel the same way.”

  We’re silent for a while as we both stare across the landscape on the horizon. The sun has tilted past noon and the shadows are growing longer across the landscape, but it isn’t quite sunset yet. A gentle breeze keeps us both cool under the hot sun. I look away from the horizon and at him. He doesn’t seem to notice. I study him, his features, his strong jaw, his tattoos. Everything about him that makes him a man. That look he gets in his eyes when he’s telling me something.

  He glances at me and our eyes connect. My brain feels fuzzy.

  I finally break the silence. “How long are we going to stay here?”

  He doesn’t answer. His eyes go to the northern horizon, and although he doesn’t say it, I can feel his doubt. He doesn’t know.

  What are we waiting for? The Skeletons to relax? I don’t know if that’s something that’ll ever happen.

  “Something I’ve been thinking about a lot...” Logan says, breaking the silence again. “Rattlesnake said that Surge was a liar. I didn’t believe it at the time because... well, it was coming from him. But, maybe there was something to it...”

  I nod. The tone of his voice is hard and I’ve only heard it once before: when he was in my apartment with Rattlesnake.

  “I just keep thinking about it... what could Surge have lied to me about? Our history goes way back, and I’m sure if it is true... it’s more than something like he drank the rest of the milk and didn’t tell anyone.” He walks past me and climbs onto the motorcycle. “Let’s get going,” he says.

  I shake my head. “No. I want to keep practicing.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  “Yes.” He doesn’t move from his bike so I walk up and take the gun from him again. He lets it slip from his fingers and I move back to where we stood before, my footprints marking the spot. I raise the gun and aim down the sights again. I pull the hammer back and focus on my breathing again. I let another shot ring out with a loud bang.

  I need to be able to protect myself. I’m only going to get Logan in more trouble if I can’t. He needs me.

  More than that, I need him.

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  Also by Amy Isan

  Misty Highlands

  Highlander's Embrace

  Highlander's Kiss

  Ruin Outlaws MC

  Bomb

  Spark

  Iron

  Standalone

  Catching Caitlin

  Watch for more at Amy Isan’s site.

  About the Author

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  Read more at Amy Isan’s site.