Leo led her to a booth that was away from everyone. The room smelled of gun smoke. Selecting a circular target from a rack by the door, Leo put it on a clip that was connected to a wire that ran from the booth down to the end of the range.
“We won't be shooting any live ammunition for a bit so you can get used to the feel of a pistol. Then, when we do shoot, you'll start with the .22 and work your way up.”
She nodded. He opened up the case containing her gun on the bench and then pulled back the metal piece on top. He quickly named all the relevant pieces. Then he had her hold the pistol, pointing it at the target. He had her practice her aim, trigger pull and hold with the empty gun. Leo corrected her with gentle touches and a calm voice.
She hardly noticed that the clerk had bought them in a pistol and some ammunition.
When she felt comfortable with the pistol, a Beretta, they switched to the Ruger and started shooting. It was fun! There wasn't much recoil and the pistol seemed, after her training with Leo, to almost aim itself.
Then they switched to the Beretta and the man silhouette target. It kicked more, had two different trigger pulls, and when she didn't hold it right, it spit the empty shell into her face.
By the time she had shot up most of the ammunition, she was feeling much more confident and comfortable.
But she was starting to get tired. Leo seemed to sense this and said, “Why don't you step back and let me have a go at it?”
She was more than happy to do so. It was interesting to see the way he loaded the Beretta without even looking at it, settled down into a stable stance, picked up the pistol and carefully squeezed the trigger. There was a hole in the center of the head on the target. He looked at the target and then said, “Watch this.”
He started shooting so fast that it sounded like a machine gun. The head part of the silhouette was completely shredded. Glancing over her shoulder out the window, she saw the clerk had been watching them. His face was expressionless and she wondered what he was thinking.
Dropping the clip free from the Beretta, he said, “You feel comfortable?”
“Yes. But I'm really starting to get hungry.”
Leo gave her a satisfied look and said, “Me, also. But we need to get you a holster, some more ammo and magazines.”
“You said you'd teach me how to shoot; I didn't hear anything about you making me carry it. Besides, I don't have a license.”
He shrugged. “You are going to have to carry it in order to be able to use it, the laws be damned.” He flipped up the front of his untucked shirt and she saw the butt of a pistol tucked into the front of his waistband.
Her shocked expression must have surprised him because he added, “Someone who isn't armed is merely a victim waiting to happen. While I'm only carrying a .22 pistol, I can probably pick someone's eyes out with it across the room.”
His voice softened. “I like you too much to have you become a victim. These people after us will continue until we or they are dead.”
She nodded.
Packing up their things numbly, she followed Leo out to the front of the store. They turned in the pistol he had rented — there was no ammunition left. Leo had made sure to pick up the empty ejected shells from the Beretta and she wondered about why he had done that. He put them in a bag he took from his gun case.
The same sneering clerk helped them. Leo built a stack of supplies by the cash register including two boxes of 9mm hollow points, more .22 ammo, target loads, the box said, and four magazines for her Beretta. Leo spent quite a while searching through a box of mixed magazines before finding the one that he wanted. It was for a small pistol and she wondered if it was for the one that he was carrying.
Then it was time to pick out a holster setup. First was a thick belt. She picked out a black one as black can always go with anything. The store, surprisingly, had quite a selection of feminine oriented firearm supplies including purse holsters.
Then there was quite a discussion about a holster for her between Leo and the clerk. Finally, they both settled on a holster that rode high over her hip. It fit comfortably. A couple of extra magazine pouches on the other side helped balance out the unaccustomed weight.
With permission from the clerk, who patted his pistol as a reply, Leo loaded up her Beretta and the extra magazines. It was a strange feeling, being armed, and way the hell beyond what she felt was comfortable. Everything was easily concealed by pulling her shirt out. When she realized that it was one of Nathan's old shirts, there was a pang of pain that ran through her.
Leo paid for everything in cash. The clerk looked at her again, but it wasn't as a piece of meat any more, but more with respect.
After collecting his change, Leo said, “Ready to get something to eat?”
She caressed the pistol on her hip and nodded.
It took a great deal to impress Leo, but Jackie had managed to pull it off. She was a natural shot to the point that made him happy that she wasn't a rifle shooter as she'd probably out shoot him every damn day of the week.
And when he touched her, guiding her actions while shooting, he felt his pulse start to pound in his head and other places that hadn't seen blood in a while.
When they had gotten out to the truck, Leo said, “You have any questions about what you saw or did?”
“No.” She had probably been quite overwhelmed with all that happened today. From having her car blown up, barely missing her, to spending three-plus hours at a gun range watching him shoot and then learning how to shoot a handgun along with learning the need for carrying a concealed weapon. The hard part would be if she could really use the pistol, and the training he had given her when the time came.
“So, what would you like to eat?”
“Almost anything.”
Leo drove around for a while until they found an Italian restaurant. The place was overdone and included a fresco showing a country scene as they walked in and candles in straw wrapped Chianti bottles. But the smells emanating from the kitchen were enough to make his mouth water.
They settled down in the directed booth — Leo had made sure that they were seated where he could see the exits and the rest of the room. He was almost comfortable, sitting with his back to a wall.
He ordered the same thing that Jackie did, minus the wine. He had never developed a taste for alcohol, never drank anything with caffeine in it and had never touched tobacco products. The alcohol would degrade his health and shooting abilities over time. Caffeine and nicotine would raise his heart rate artificially — something that wouldn't work shooting at the distances that he did because the trigger squeeze needed to be done between heartbeats. He didn't run five hard miles six days a week to stay in shape just to have it blown by drinking a Coke. As a result, his resting pulse was in the high forties.
In the candle light, Jackie looked even better, though she kept reaching down and touching her holstered pistol.
“Don't do that. Cops call it a tell.”
“What do you mean?”
“By the someone acts and walks, you can tell if they are carrying a concealed weapon. Constantly touching it is one of the obvious ones. In a while, you'll get used to the weight and then it'll seem strange when you aren't carrying it.”
They quickly polished off their meal without talking much. When they were done, Jackie settled back with a satisfied sigh and said, “What's next?”
He thought about it for a little while. Up until this morning, he had been reacting, not being ahead of the game. Now it was time to make the bad guys start to react to his actions.
“We find some place to hang out tonight. Tomorrow, we see if we can get that information that your accountant has stashed away so we can start rolling up the organization that is doing this.”