Page 7 of Rescuing Erin

“Make this place great again. Fill it with happiness and laughter. It fucking guts me our last memories are of smoke and carnage.”

“I will. I promise. And when you’re ready, we’ll have a barbeque, just like old times.”

“Damn, man, I must be getting old, sitting here waxing poetic about some old house.”

He tried to laugh it off but he couldn’t hide the pain. Now, more than ever, I was happy I was the one to buy this house. Even if Fletch and his family would never live here again, I could give them back some of the happiness they’d lost.

“So tell me about this epic wedding we missed.”

Fletch went on to tell me all about the quadruple wedding his teammates had. What was supposed to be a double wedding between Ghost and Rayne and Truck and Mary had turned into a foursome. Blade and Wendy and Beatle and Casey had gotten married the same day, too. My team had missed the wedding when we were called away on an op. From the sound of it, we’d missed one hell of a party.

My mind momentarily wandered to Erin, and I wondered how she’d get along with Ivy and Violet. I knew she missed Olivia but for some reason she held herself back from rekindling their friendship. The women of Fletch’s teammates, Rayne, Mary, Wendy, Casey, Harley, Kassie, and Emily were all as close as sisters. I’d never paid enough attention to know if Olivia, Ivy, and Violet were the same way. I supposed they were, but I’d missed a lot since I’d been spending most of my time in D.C. trying to keep one very exasperating, sexy woman out of trouble. I hoped like hell this was over soon. The faster we were away from each other the better.

Chapter 3

“Have you ever shot a gun?” Colin inquired as he laid his arsenal out on the blanket-covered, wooden bench in front of us.

I tried not to roll my eyes at his stupid question.

“You know I grew up here in Texas, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well? Then why’d you ask?”

“Not everyone in Texas owns a gun, smartass. And, sorry to say, you don’t really look like the huntin’ type.” My nose scrunched at the thought of killing a poor helpless animal. “I see I was right.”

“I don’t know what parts of Texas you’ve been to, that you’d draw that conclusion, but where I grew up, we all learned to shoot as soon as we could walk.”

“Walk, huh?”

Damn, his laugh was sexy. I was almost glad he rarely did it because when he forgot to scowl at me, his smile made him even more good looking. And the deep rumble of his laugh made my girly parts wake up and take notice.

“Pretty much. Daddy bought me my first Mossberg .22 rifle for Christmas when I was ten. He always said, if there were guns in the house, we needed to know gun safety.”

“Smart man.”

“That he is.”

I missed those days, when my dad was just my dad. When he wasn’t the governor or the president. The man who used to give me piggyback rides, go on hikes with me, and take me camping in the back woods of our property. I guess I couldn’t blame everything on politics. When I hit my preteens, I stupidly favored doing things with my friends. I’d thought my dad would always be there waiting.

“All right, Annie Oakley, pick which one you wanna start with.”

I looked over the selection of handguns he’d laid out and I knew exactly which one I wanted. I picked up the Smith & Wesson M&P 9mm. The grip was a better fit for my hand than the Sig Sauer, and would have less recoil than the Glock .45 ACP.

“You wanna make a bet?” I asked as I slid my eye protection on.

“A bet?”

“Yeah. You know, a wager.”

“I know what a bet is. What I don’t know is why you’d think it’s a good idea to challenge me.”

“Cocky much?”

“Sweet cheeks, you ain’t seen cocky.”

He wouldn’t be smirking for long, that was for damn sure. Colin had much to learn about me, one of those things being I was a damn good shot. I had the ribbons to prove I’d been the state 4-H shooting sports champion in both rifle and pistol.