Gypsy's Sin [Wind Riders MC]

Chapter Twenty-Two

James arrived at three, and Daphne chickened out, getting on Cyn's bike with her, instead of asking James. The ride was only two miles and they pulled into a strip mall that had a liquor store, a Mexican food place, a church, and the gun store.

Daphne looked at the selections and said, "Perfect really, if you're a hick."

"Welcome to Lakeside," James smiled. "It is a good range though. So, how long has it been?"

"I think I was nineteen the last time I fired a gun."

"Did your dad teach you this as well?"

"How did you know —?"

"Your style of fighting is obviously Recon Marine. Very aggressive, powerful with the absolute goal of ending the fight quickly, in an undisputed fashion. I've fought enough Marines to recognize the style. Since I doubt you were a Marine, and you fight too well to be taught by a brother or sister, that leads me to father. Yes?"

"Yes, and he remembers you from your gun tournaments," she told him.

"What's his name?"

"Richard C. Palmer, Master Sergeant."

"The hand-to-hand instructor out at Camp Pendleton! Yes, I have serious respect for your father. What a small world."

"He has the same," she told him.

"That's very flattering to hear. Thank you," he said, "So, did he teach you combat style?"

"No, not really. He taught me the knife, and some basic hand-to-hand, focusing on larger, more aggressive opponents, but for guns — just how to fire them and clean them really."

"He focused on the knife? That's interesting. You know that is one place I've never been good at. Perhaps we could begin there with our sessions?"

She nodded, feeling much more comfortable picturing herself with a blade in her hand against this man. "That would be good. Yes."

"Then I'll start you on combat training."

Once they were in the range James told her, "Ok, first of all, aiming sucks. Fuck aiming. Forget the gun even has sights."

"Ok?" Cyn replied.

"Your hands and your eyes work together, and will improve with practice, but also will adjust rapidly if the eyes see where the hands have to move. So in combat you practice for three round bursts. The first shot is your marker, the second and third shots will adjust your hand from the mark point without being asked to. They'll just do it, if you give them the chance. So, this is how we fire," he said, pulled his gun and fired three shots so rapidly the blasts melded into each other."

"You can fire that fast," Cyn asked, "And your hand will still adjust?"

"Faster," James agreed. "The brain is incredibly fast."

Cyn looked at the target that was only about fifteen feet away, and the center looked like it had one hole. "Wow."

"Don't be too impressed. Anyone can kill paper," James smiled. "Now, your turn."

James taught her for nearly two hours. His hands were all over her, adjusting her stance, her arms, her waist, but his demeanor was so professional, and what he was saying so valuable, she forgot to get turned on.

At the end of the session, James said, "You really catch on fast. I can't wait to see you with a knife. That, I believe, is going to be a treat. I'll pick up some practice knives on my way home. Friday? Is Friday good?"