"The way I see it," McCoy cut me off, "for the time being, this is something, right?"
"Right," I agreed.
"And so long as it is something, I have no fucking interest in hiding it. Not from my brothers, or from your sister. This is what it is. I don't like sneaky shit. And, quite frankly, if you're mine—even in just a temporary way—I want the world to know it."
Oh, I liked that.
I liked that more than any promise of forever I'd ever been spoon-fed in my life.
I mean who wouldn't like to hear a big, strong, stupidly good looking biker say that they wanted to be seen with you, that they wanted other people to know they were with you?
My belly fluttered at the idea, actually.
It was a good belly flutter, too, let me tell you.
And I was really excited to see if our "for now" became something more than that.
Life with an arms-dealing biker wouldn't prove quite as smooth sailing as that, though.
But for that one blissful moment, the people lurking in the shadows that wanted Henchmen—and my—blood were the furthest thing from my mind.
Chapter Eleven
McCoy
The next few days all sort of blended in together. Mostly because Shy and I spent a fuck of a lot of that time in bed.
I know Shy felt guilty about it, always fretting about Belle and her low moods.
And, yeah, I got that.
Belle only seemed to come alive again when she was with one of the animals. She was in the right place for that, with Remy's zoo all around. But when she wasn't playing with kittens or petting a dog or snuggling her bunny who just barely tolerated that type of affection, she was almost always staring off out a window or at a wall, curling into her body, and lost in her own world.
She probably needed to seek some counseling. We just couldn't risk letting her leave the house until we finally figured out who was out to get all of us.
I figured that so long as Belle didn't seem to actively be getting worse, to the point where we would have to worry about her hurting herself or something unfathomable like that, it likely wouldn't do completely irreparable damage for her to have to wait another couple days. Or weeks at the most.
"Hey, princess," Eddie called, talking to Belle. "You wanna try?" he asked, waving his gun in the air that he and Donovan had been practicing with under the watchful eye of the much more experienced shooter, Alaric.
"I don't think that's a good—" I started, but got cut off as Belle immediately unfolded from her ball and rushed forward.
"Yes."
Eddie's gaze cut to me, brows raised, asking what I wanted him to do.
It was the first word I'd heard Belle speak all day. I figured if she wanted something badly enough to break her silence, then maybe it wasn't my place to say no.
"Alright," I said, shrugging, hoping Shy wasn't going to give me an earful when she got back from playing with Harmon and Sass's kids.
"Here, sweet cheeks," Eddie said, passing the gun in front of Belle toward Alaric. "Let the expert teach you," he said, moving away from her and toward me.
"Shy isn't going to like this."
"The girl had some shit go down," Eddie said, shrugging. "Makes sense she wants to know how to defend herself," he added.
"Yeah, that's true." To be fair, if things with Shy kept going in the direction it seemed like they were, I would want her out in the yard with a gun in her hand, learning to get comfortable with the feel of it, and figuring out how to use it. Just in case. I believed that if you were going to be in this lifestyle, or attached to it via some sort of relationship, then you needed to know the basics of some self-defense. "Just make sure the guns are put away after," I demanded as Alaric gave Belle a brief crash course in the parts of a gun and how to use them before pointing toward the target, and taking a step back.
There was barely a hesitation before her finger slid to the trigger, and the bullet went sailing through the air, landing just to the side of the target.
"Not bad," I said, nodding.
"Better than me," Eddie agreed.
Harmon and Saskia had put up a bit of a fight about the shooting range when Alaric had suggested it, understandably not wanting shooting near their kids.
But after we'd had some land cleared, so that we could built it the way Alaric thought would be safest—with railroad tie walls backed by tire walls then backed by a shitton of sand, all covering three sides so that the shooter stood inside of it—they did begrudgingly agree it would probably be worth it to have around for everyone to practice without needing to go to a range. Eventually, the kids would need to grow up and learn to shoot as well. It just made sense to have it nearby. And we only practiced when the women and kids had notice, so there would be no chance of any accidents.
"Good. Aim a little higher than you think you need to," Alaric instructed.
Eddie and I stood back in somewhat stunned awe as with each small correction from Alaric, Belle got better and better. Better, I'll admit, than me. And I'd been practicing shooting for most of my life.
"That skill just comes natural to some, I guess," Eddie said. "That killer instinct. Me," he went on, pressing a hand to his chest. "I'm a lover. That must be why I can't hit the target like sweet baby sis over there."
"Yeah, man, that must be it," I said with a snort.
"There. That's it," Alaric said when Belle hit the center of the target. "You're getting it n—" he started, trailing off when Belle just kept squeezing and squeezing the trigger, seemingly lost in her own world, in her own head. "Whoa whoa whoa," Alaric called, voice soft, soothing, as Belle kept squeezing, but getting only hollow clicks.
Strange, choked sounds started to escape her then, and I became all-too-aware of the way her frame was shaking with whatever was going on in her mind right then.
"Okay, angel, you gotta give me the gun," Alaric went on, putting his hand on the top of the muzzle, aiming it down, then pulling it from her hands a little roughly, making her stumble forward.
"Give me more bullets," Belle demanded, voice raw.
"Angel, no. You're done for today," Alaric said, shaking his head softly at her.
"Give me more fucking bullets!" Belle shrieked, making all of us jolt. For one, because Belle never yelled. From what Shy said, not even before she was kidnapped and traumatized. But for two because she also never cursed either, and it seemed completely out of character for her to do so with that much rage.
"No, you're done," Alaric said, voice a bit firmer.
"What's—" Huck started as he walked up, cutting off while we all watched in stunned silence as Belle lunged forward into Alaric's waistband, pulling out his gun, and turning back to the target, emptying the magazine while letting out a low-level shriek.
"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath as I handed Huck my gun. "I think maybe this wasn't the best of ideas," I concluded, making my way up behind Belle and a tense-looking Alaric.
He reached for the gun as I reached for her.
"Let me go!" she yelled. "I need to know how!" she insisted as I ducked under her flailing arms.