Mafia Kings: Massimo: Dark Mafia Romance Series #3

I was finishing up with my backpack when Lucia came out of the bathroom.

She was wearing a sweatshirt, which was good. But she went back to the bedroom in a pouty little fit.

Fuck her. She could go stew for a while.

If she didn’t try to antagonize me all the time, all this would all be so much easier.

Once the food was packed, I went to the bedroom. She was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

She looked angry. Cold angry. The kind that would slip a knife in your back and twist it.

Which made me hesitate about the next step – but it had to be done.

Her eyes narrowed to slits when she saw me. “Fuck off.”

“Gladly, but first I need to show you something,” I said as I went over to the gun safe in the corner of the room and punched in the code.

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Well, you will if someone comes after us, so you better pay attention.”

I opened the safe and pulled out a shotgun.Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

That got her attention.

She sat up on the bed. “What are you doing?”

“Teaching you how to use this.”

Her eyes went wide. “…really?”

“Yeah. I’m assuming you don’t know how to handle a shotgun – or do you?”

“No.” She paused, then said, “They wouldn’t teach me how to shoot anything.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to cover pistols, too. Come on.”

I walked out of the bedroom.

She quickly followed.

I guess curiosity had overtaken her anger.

We went outside and I turned to face her. “I don’t want you to fire the guns, because I don’t want anybody to hear it and know we’re here – but I’m going to show you how to use them, at least.

“This is a hunting shotgun. I use it for ptarmigans and grouse, two types of gamebird you find in the woods, but it’s equally effective at killing someone.

“A shotgun has a big advantage over pistols or rifles: you don’t have to aim. The downside is it’s not as good over a distance. But as long as your target’s within 10 or 15 feet and you point it in the right direction, you’ve got a damn good chance of hitting what you’re aiming at. That’s because instead of a single bullet, you’ve got a lot of little balls called ‘shot’ that explode out of the barrel. They expand outwards in a circular pattern – ”

“I know how a shotgun works,” she said snippily.

“Alright, then,” I said, refusing to get irritated. “Moving on.

“The most important thing is safety first. You always assume a gun is loaded. You do not point it at anyone unless you intend to kill them. Always keep your finger outside this trigger guard until you’re ready to fire.

“I can’t tell you how many stories I’ve heard where an idiot walked around with his finger on the trigger, stumbled, and either shot off his own foot or accidentally killed someone else. So always keep your finger outside the trigger guard unless you’re ready to kill somebody.

“This is a double-barreled shotgun, but there’s only one trigger. You pull the trigger, both barrels will fire. It’s also got internal hammers, so you don’t have to cock anything in order to shoot.”

I showed her the safety, a sliding plate on the gun’s stock with a little bump to push against. “That’s the safety. You have to push it up in order to fire the gun. If it’s back, like this, the gun won’t fire.”

I pushed the two-inch-long release lever and broke open the breach. “This is the lever to open the gun. You slide the shells in there. I’m going to put some buckshot shells in there. Buckshot is big enough that it’ll fuck up anybody within 10 feet of you, no problem.

“The gun’s always going to be loaded with the safety on. I doubt you’ll need to reload – if you do, we’re in the middle of a firefight and in some serious trouble – but just know that this is how you open the barrel, with that lever.”

I ran through more of the basics, then showed her how to hold the gun.

In order to do that, I had to stand behind her with my arms on either side of her body.

I was very aware of her curves… especially her ass… but I kept my pelvis back so I wouldn’t brush up against her.

There was still the barest hint of her perfume from the other day. Between her scent and her body, it was difficult not to get aroused – but I focused on the gun and pretended a killer was standing in front of us.

“The most important thing is you’ve got to make sure the gun is seated against your shoulder, like this,” I said, pushing the butt of the stock against her shoulder. “A shotgun’s got a hell of a recoil. You’re going to have to make sure it’s placed firmly against your shoulder or it’s going to knock you backwards and give you a hell of a bruise.

“You can look down the barrel with your right eye and line up the sights, but like I said, the big advantage of a shotgun is you can just point it and pull the trigger. The way the pellets expand will do the rest. Any questions?”

“Why can’t I try it out?” she asked.

“You can. Pull the trigger all you want.”

“No, I mean, why can’t I actually shoot it?”

“Like I said, I don’t want to advertise our presence here. Besides, this is the one type of gun you don’t need to practice a whole lot to use effectively. I don’t want you firing it unless it’s the absolute last resort.”

“Like if somebody finds us and they’re trying to kill us,” she said quietly.

“Exactly.”

After that, I showed her the Sig Sauer I’d pulled off the mercenary, the one I’d shot in the boat. I went through the basics and had her dry-fire the gun a couple of times, then showed her how to load a fresh magazine and eject it once it was out of bullets.

“You’ve got to be a hell of a lot more precise with a pistol than a shotgun,” I said. “Ordinarily, you’d have to shoot a thousand rounds before you were any good with a pistol – but the shotgun will get it done on the first try.”

Once I was finished, I handed her the Sig.

She stared at me with big eyes. “This is mine?”

“Yeah. Like I said, this is life and death you’re holding. No fucking around and pointing it at me, even if you’re joking – okay?”

“…okay,” she said somberly.

“Alright, let’s go back inside and finish packing.”

“Why are you packing?” she asked as she followed me. I noticed that all her anger from earlier was gone.

“Because we need to leave.”

“Why?”

“I already told you – there’s a slim chance my uncle and cousin know about this cabin. And if that’s the case, we need to go find somewhere else.”

“Where are we going to stay?”

“There are tons of cabins up here. Some people come in the summertime, and a few live in them year-round, but most owners have them for ski season and don’t come up here any other time. All we have to do is find a place that’s deserted and far away from everybody else, and we should be okay.”

“How do we find them?”

“We go hiking.”

“And…?”

“And keep on hiking until we find one that looks like it’s deserted.”

She stared at me. “You’re joking.”

“Have you ever known me to joke about any of this, even once?”

“…no,” she grumbled.

“Exactly.” I grabbed the JanSport I’d bought at the store and pushed it into her arms. “Go pack your clothes. We’ll eat a quick lunch, and then we’re heading out.”

“What about the car?”

“We’re leaving it here.”

“Why?”

“Because this place is at the end of the road. From here on out, we’re walking through the woods.”

“…okay,” she said, and I was surprised she didn’t offer any more resistance.