A/N: Hey guys!
At this point, I'd like to give a huge shout-out to my friend Jillian Pearl, who wrote the first part of this chapter for me.
She's an amazing author and her romantic novel "The Fire-Pit" will be published in November, so check it out, if you like. For those of you who are interested, here's the link: jillianpearlX/the-fire-pit/ - (just exchange the big X with a .com)
December 5th – noon
Nicki stood a meter away from the shooting bench watching Henry staple the target to a wooden frame. She felt her mother's stare boring into her back. The Smith & Wesson M&P SHIELD™ 9mm laid on the bench with the slide locked open. The magazine and a box of bullets sat a foot away.
She felt ridiculous in the electric blue ear muffs. She understood why Grandpa insisted she wear them, but why did they have to look so stupid?
"You can go ahead and put the bullets in the magazine now", Henry stated, coming over to stand behind her left shoulder. Nicki opened the box, plucked a bullet out and picked up the magazine. So far this wasn't a lot more difficult that loading the old revolver had been. Nicki sighed impatiently.
Then he said, "What is the first rule of gun safety?"
"Great Grandpa, can't we just shoot?"
"No! What is the first rule?"
"Always keep the gun pointed in a safe direction," Nicki muttered, clearly annoyed. She'd wanted the excitement, the thrill and the feeling of control the gun had given her last night, not a boring lecture. Although Erin probably still thought even this was too much.
"That goes for when you are putting the magazine in and chambering a round too, not just when the gun is loaded," Henry continued in a patient soft voice. "Now pick up the gun."
Irritated Nicki snatched up the gun. She wrapped the fingers of her right hand around the grip and placed her finger over the trigger. She wasn't a baby. It wasn't like this was the first time.
"I know how to do this", she said confidently, only to be cut off by the retired Police Commissioner.
"No!", he roared, "Never put your finger on the trigger until you actually want to shoot the gun. Place your finger along the edge of the frame, but not to high, you don't want to get your finger caught in the slide when you close it."
"Nicki, do what Henry says or you can just go home," Erin yelled. Why was her mom always embarrassing her? Nicki moved her finger to the spot Henry had said, shrugging nonchalantly. It felt strange.
Henry then stepped forward and made subtle adjustments to the way her hand was holding the grip. He took this so seriously. When she shot at the tree she'd just held the gun and pulled the trigger, she hadn't even had her eyes open the first time. His seriousness was beginning to make her nervous. Was a semi-auto pistol more dangerous than an old revolver or had she just been that stupid?
"Okay now take the magazine and slide it into the bottom of the grip until it quits moving easily. Then slam the palm of your hand against the bottom of the magazine to seat it."
When Nicki hit the magazine it jerked up into the pistol with a metallic clang. The sound shocked her. Her heart pounded. She didn't know why, having already killed a tree after all. I'm ready for you, Harold Wyrdmann. And with Erin and Henry next to her and the weapon heavy in her hand, she almost believed it.
"Very good. Keep the gun pointed down range. This next part can be tricky." Great Grandpa rotated her hand so that the back of it was parallel with the ground. "These things that stick out, this one is the take down, this is the slide release, and the one closest to you is the safety. You are going to hold the slide with your fingers and thumb of your left hand and pull it back until the pressure releases on the slide release. With this thumb," he touched her thumb on the grip, "you will press down on the slide release, then let go with your left hand. The slide will close and strip a round from the magazine."
He turned her hand so that the pistol was back in a shooting position. Nicki listened to his muffled voice though the horrible ear muffs. They didn't even match her outfit! She gripped the slide and pulled backward. Nothing happened and she huffed.
"Put a little more muscle into it," Erin suggested, hiding a smile. Easy for her to say, Nicki thought. She gripped the frame harder and tightened her grip on the slide. It moved, just a little. She quickly pressed the slide release down and let go. The slide slid forward so fast that she didn't see it move. The metallic clank sound it made told her it was closed. Thank goodness she'd been hanging on to the grip so hard, the gun had almost flown out of her hand! She stared at the pistol in her hand.
"Cup your left hand around the fingers and the bottom of the palm of your other hand." She moved her hand until it cradled the hand on the pistol. "Bend your elbows a little and spread your feet shoulder width apart." She shuffled her feet. This was like in the movies, like she'd done things last night. Clearly she'd done something right, Nicki thought, smiling to herself. "Now lean forward at the waist." This position felt uncomfortable.
"Look at the sights. You can't just pull the trigger without looking like they do in the movies."
Nicki gulped. The pistol was growing heavy. Her mouth felt dry and tasted funny. She didn't want to make a fool out of herself in front of Henry and Erin.
"Look at the front site, that little circular dot, and move the gun until it sits in the u shaped back site. Once you have that then move the front site until it sits just below the center of the target. Be sure to keep the back sites aligned properly," Great Grandpa instructed.
Her nose was itching, but she didn't dare move her hand to scratch it. She didn't want her mom to make good on the threat to take her home without getting to shoot. That was easy enough, she thought. Next line it up with the target. Perfect, she thought.
"Make sure everything is lined up."
She sighed and did. Oh crap, her back sight was way off. It took her three more minutes of small hand adjustments to get it all lined up. "They are," Nicki said, trying hard not to move.
"Good, now slowly and smoothly pull the trigger. When the gun actually fires it should be a surprise."
Nicki swallowed again. Slowly she placed her finger on the trigger and began gently pulling it backward toward her. Her back was tense and her breathing was ragged. Boom! The gun fired, rocking her back a step and slamming the grip into the palm of her hand. The muzzle rose toward the sky. She didn't move.
"Go ahead and set the gun down. Point the barrel down range," Henry said.
Nicki did what he said, feeling excited and a little scared all at the same time. She looked at the target 15 feet away. A small hole in the tan section of the target. Her heart sank, it wasn't even in any of the rings. She would have missed Wyrdmann. Dammit.
"Pretty good for a first shot", Henry said happily. "Many of my trainees don't hit the target on their first try at all. Now do it again and this time shoot until the bullets are gone. Then we can make adjustments to how you are aiming and holding the gun."
Nicki shook her head. This was way more complicated than she'd imagined. Frank had been right, this wasn't like a movie. But it felt good and with her family close, she felt ready for anything. Next time I'm gonna hit ya, she told the black outline of a man on the target.
December 6th – noon
Jamie woke in a cold sweat. Casper's white mask, long fishy fingers and manic laugh were looming before his mind's eye, making him thrash out. He hit something hard and next to him, somebody groaned. "You really gotta stop doing that, kid." Danny. Right, he was with his brother, not back in... back there.
"Stop doing what?", Jamie asked, trying to keep it light. His brother was rubbing his head and Jamie's face reddened when he remembered just how often he'd accidentally – or by choice - hit that body part in the last few days.
"Never mind", Danny answered with a small smile, "we got bigger problems."
"Yeah", Jamie replied tiredly, "Yeah, I guess so." For a while they sat side by side, each lost in thought. Then Danny suddenly got up, cautiously peeked out the window and made his way to the door. Jamie's anxiousness spiked when his brother quickly dismantled the barricade in front of it.
"What are you up to?"
"Well, we gotta get out of here somehow", Danny replied with a hint of annoyance. "I don't see a back entrance, do you?" Not wanting to look useless, Jamie slowly pushed himself up. "Fine. Hand me a gun."
"You can't shoot. Look at you, your hands are shaking already", Danny clarified, giving Jamie a once-over. He didn't mean to be an asshole, but they didn't have any ammunition to spare and Jamie would not hit the doors of a barn from a distance of three meters right now. That's what his body said, at least. Jamie snorted.
"My fever is down. I can focus long enough", he argued. Two shooters would have a slightly better chance to get out of this room alive than just one gun-wielding detective on a suicide mission. Furthermore, Jamie did not want to be a burden any longer. He felt almost healthy, so why not help out? Why did Danny have to be so stubborn? Couldn't he admit that he was in over his head? Obviously they both were, but Jamie would have liked to go down fighting and not like an invalid, sitting against a dirty wall in a storage room.
"It's not the mind I'm worried about", Danny explained patiently, trying to ruffle his brother's hair. Jamie evaded the touch by leaning back and reaching for one of the three guns on the floor. Danny smiled, but made sure they were too far away to snatch up.
"Come on." Annoyance had crept into Jamie's voice, too. He was just about to start complaining again when he heard movement on the other side of the door. Both of them froze for a moment.
"Polite sons of bitches, giving us a heads-up", Danny said, making Jamie chuckle, "Guess it's now or never." Jamie nodded and took a position next to the entrance. Hopefully nobody would expect them to come charging through the door after it had been a quiet standoff for hours.
"On three", Danny whispered, then counted silently. Exactly on two and a half, Jamie tore open the door and presented his brother with the sight of two baffled mobsters. The older Reagan quickly fired two shots, but the criminals managed to seek cover in time. Jamie cursed as they now had to dodge bullets.
"We're not getting out this way", he hissed just as Danny recklessly jumped through the opening like a cop out of a damn movie. One of the goons didn't react fast enough and was hit. From his position in the room, Jamie couldn't see Danny anymore, but from the following silence he deduced that his brother must have hidden behind the chimney. Now what? His agitation only rose when he heard footsteps and risked a glance. At least a dozen Herrera men were coming up the stairs, not in the least deterred by Danny's warning shot.
"Dammit, Danny, give me a gun!"
"I got this, kid."
"The hell you do!", Jamie shouted, ducking to the ground when something hit the wall behind him. The chimney was already targeted heavily and was beginning to look like a gray Swiss cheese.
"Danny!" Finally, he relented and Jamie saw the black weapon being tossed energetically across the stones. "Thank you!" The same instant his fingers gripped the weapon, Jamie was on his knees, training kicking in. He aimed, closed one eye, exhaled. Pressed the trigger. Hit a mobster that had been providing cover fire.
"Thanks, kid."
"No problem!" We might actually get out of this, his mind boasted, only to be brought back to reality when a storm of bullets rained down on them both. Jamie was forced to retreat further into the room, leaving Danny pinned. They were both sitting ducks with no chance to flee. Sweat poured down his face as the young officer considered his limited options. He wasn't gonna get through to his brother. There wasn't a chance in hell he could advance and get through the door without being shot either. And there were only four bullets left in his gun.
"Fuck!" Something had clipped the wooden barrels he had taken cover behind. A splinter had embedded itself in his shoulder. Thank God it wasn't a bullet. Jamie shivered uncontrollably when suddenly a strong voice tore through the chaos.
"Stop shooting right now!" Instinctively, Jamie froze. He knew that voice, had obeyed its commands countless times so it now happened without thinking.
"Can't be...", he uttered. Cautiously, Jamie glanced over the edge of the barrel. Unbelievable! The person that was slowly coming up the staircase was none other then Frank Reagan.
"Boys? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, we're good!", Danny called out while Jamie got up from his crouch to stare at his father. He was pretty sure his mouth had been hanging open for a moment, but he didn't care much. Frank Reagan, live and in person.
"How? Why?", he stammered. His father looked him over, then pulled him into a bear-hug. "Came to get my boys home", he answered quietly. Jamie blinked rapidly, still half-convinced that he was dreaming. His body relaxed in the reassuring arms of his father but his piercing blue eyes stayed on the enemy behind his Dad's back. They were gathering at the top of the stairs, apparently being lectured by a tall guy in a suit.
When Danny reached them, he also received a hug. The two men exchanged some words Jamie couldn't make out, then Frank turned on his heels and approached the leader of the criminals. After exchanging an uneasy glance, his sons followed him.
"Mr. Aguirre."
"Commissioner."
"I was under the impression you told your men to stay down and not to engage", Frank said and frowned slightly. Behind him, Danny winced whereas the mobster smiled.
"They were only defending the house. Furthermore, your boys gave as good as they got. It is my understanding that they were the provoking party." Danny huffed, but his father quieted him with a stern look.
"Be that as it may...", Frank replied, "I will take them home now." His voice was steady as ever, something Jamie admired. Nevertheless, he did not believe the Herrera cartel would let them leave. His eyes widened even more when Mr. Aguirre smiled again and stepped to the side in an inviting gesture.
"Si Senjor, this way please."
"Just like that?" Jamie had to ask. The mobster surveyed him with another slimy expression and agreed. "Yes, just like that."
Without further comment, Jamie stepped past the criminal, his mind spinning with the utter surrealism of the situation. However, he knew nothing came without cost, especially when dealing with people like Aguirre. What had his father had to give up in order to buy their freedom?