Gangster's Girl (Complete)

Chapter 8 - Part 1

I yawned while I waited for James. I checked my watch one more time, it was two minutes before four. Not convinced I would be able to to wake up so early I had set three alarms. I wasn't going to mess this up, if I did James wouldn't continue to waste his time on me and I really needed this.

When it reached four o'clock I opened the door to find James walking up to the door. He was dressed in his usual suit looking exactly the same as he did yesterday. My hair was messy and I was dressed in sweats. He looked effortless and I felt like my lack of sleep was written all over me.

"Hi," I greeted. I pulled the jersey tighter around myself against the cool air.

"Let's go." There were no pleasantries with him. He was the type of person that only spoke to communicate. At least he was also the type of guy who said exactly what was on his mind. There was no bullshitting or hidden agenda.

I hurried after him, having two take two strides for each of his. I followed him in the dimly lit route to another building off the main house. It was a bit of walk but I didn't complain. If I did, I was sure he wouldn't help me. He was doing me favor. When he got to the door he keyed in a code and the door opened.

In all the time I had ever been on the property it was a building I had never been allowed inside. I had no idea what was inside. He held the door open for me and I stepped inside.

There was a firing range on the one side with some guns on display. No handguns only rifles. I warmed my hands as James closed the door behind us. On the other side there was a passage that looked like a few offices but nothing really gangster looking. I had always imagined chains and dungeons where they tortured traitors. Clearly my imagination had run wild.

There was a table and James reached behind to his waist and pulled a gun out and laid it on the table.

"First rule, you never point it at anything you are not willing to shoot. Do you understand?"

I nodded. "Yes. Okay."

I was more than nervous about handing a gun, it was something I had never touched. Maybe it's because I was always afraid the gun would go off and I would end up shooting someone or myself. I had a healthy respect for weapons and the destruction they could inflict if mishandled.

"Do you know anything about guns?"

"No. I've never even held one."

He picked up the gun and removed the magazine and checked the barrel before handing me the gun with the handle pointing to me. "Take it."

For a second I hesitate and then I reached for it. I held it, not sure I was doing it properly. It was cold and heavier than I expected. He came around the table to show me how to hold the it correctly. He also showed me hot to rest my hand holding the gun on my other hand to help steady it.

He showed me where the safety was and how to tell if it was on or off. I tried to take in as much as I could but being around him made me nervous and it didn't help that I was scared he was going to declare this a waste of his valuable time.

Once he showed me something, he stood and watched as I repeated the action awkwardly until he was satisfied I was doing it right. I was surprised he had any amount of patience with me.

"I'm not going to bother with how to take it apart and put it back together. It think that would overkill for you."

I shrugged. "Sure." It wasn't like I had to know how to do that. Honestly I just needed to be able to get the safety off, aim, shoot and hit the target.

"But I think it's important for you to learn to load the magazine and take it out."

He spent the next half hour going through all the things he believed I had to know. Once I had it down, even it was nervously he gave me some ear muffs and protective glasses.

"Let's see what your aim is like."

On the opposite end was a paper target I was supposed to aim for. I felt optimistic about hitting the target even if I had never tried it before. How difficult could this be?

"Take your time pulling the trigger. If you pull too suddenly the gun can lift slight and you won't hit where you're aiming."

I nodded as I lifted the gun and steadied it in the palm of my other hand. Slowly, I pulled the trigger and the gun went off. The noise was muffled by the ear muffs but the gun jerked a bit. It was a little frightening but I tried to mask it.

"Did I hit it?" I asked, a little excited to see a bullet hole in the paper.

He pressed a button and the target wizzed to us but the closer it got I could there was no hole, I had missed completely. My earlier excitement evaporated and I was left feeling useless. I had definitely not inherited the DNA that had allowed my brother to never miss when he shot at something.

He shook his head. "Try again. This time keep your hands steady."

He returned the target back to it's place and I took my stance with the gun ready to try again.

How I was I supposed to be steady with him standing right next to me. He was intimidating. I emptied an entire magnum with six bullets and hit nothing. I was disappointed and deflated. I'd at least hope to hit the target paper even if I got no where near the outline of the person on it.

"You're going to have to practice," he stated the obvious and I felt lower than I had before. Couldn't he give me some words of encouragement but this was James we were talking about? I was lucky he was even willing to help.

He reloaded the gun and I tried again. Not one bullet hit the paper again. I probably could have done a better job blindfolded.

"Can we try again tomorrow?" I asked, trying not to allow myself to give up because I wasn't good at it. If I tried again and couldn't hit anything I was sure I would give up altogether.

I had to know how to do this. The most important thing was to be able to aim and shoot. A gun in my hands would be useless unless I could hit the target. It wasn't like a threat was going to stand right in front of me and let me shoot them. My target aim might have been better if I tossed the gun in the target's direction.

And besides I wasn't sure how much of James' time he was willing to waste on a hopeless case.

"Yes. Same time same place."

"Okay great."

He took the gun I had used and put the safety on before tucking in into his waist band behind him.

"Let's go."

When we got back to the house I thanked him, in return he gave me a curt nod and headed into the house straight to Angel's study leaving me standing after him watching.

Did anyone ever break through his tough exterior? Was there anyone he thought about or was he just programmed to care about work and nothing else? I wondered.

It was five thirty and I was tired. It was way too early for coffee or breakfast so I decided to go upstairs. It had taken a lot of energy to keep myself optimistic and upbeat when all I wanted to do was give up. I took off my jersey and got back into bed, pulling the covers right up to my chin.

I felt like such a failure. Not one of the shots I had fired had come anywhere near the target. Was there any hope I would improve? If I didn't this would be a complete waste of time and Angel would be right. It would be best for me to keep out of the way in dangerous situations.

It made me wonder if I had the stomach to deal with the dangerous world I was integrating into. It was one thing being the daughter of gangster's henchman, it was a whole different thing when I was marrying the gangster. I was his weakness, the target his adversaries would keep in their sights.

I was effectively stepping into the firing line without any experience on how to handle any of what I was being face with. The things I had learnt growing up or been surrounded by had not been sufficient to prepare me for any of this.

When Angel had offered me marriage to keep the Vincents from taking me, I thought it would have been simple enough to get married and it would be enough. I was slowly coming to realize that wasn't the case.