Forever Hers Walters, Ednah (best novels for teenagers .TXT) 📖

He grinned

“What’s funny?”

“You’re facing an intruder. I know you can do better than that.”

He wanted ruthless? She held the gun with her right hand, tilted it so the handle was sideways the way inner city gangsters did on TV, then she copped an attitude.

“Get the hell out of my house, homey, before I put a cap in your butt. You know what I’m sayin’.” She thumbed her nose then posed.

Eddie’s jaw dropped, then he laughed. Not a chuckle, but the deep, no-holds barred laughter that went on and on until he was out of breath.

“You are completely insane.”

“Thank you.” She saluted Eddie with the gun.

“For future reference, homey is what you call a friend, not an intruder, and it’s ‘put a cap in your ass’,” he corrected.

“I know. I just didn’t want to use the a-word. Okay, let’s do this.” She held the gun with both hands. “One false move and you’re dead,” she snarled.

“Don’t shoot, please,” Eddie faked a plea, shuffling closer. “I have a family.”

“I said… Do. Not. Move!”

He moved as though he was about to drop down on his knees. “Please—”

Then he attacked. Moving to her right, he pushed the hand holding the gun away from him and inwards. In seconds, he had pried the gun from her hand and pushed the magazine release button to disengage the gun.

He stepped back. “You see how I didn’t give you time to think, I just attacked? First, I distracted you with pleas then attacked. I pushed your hand gun away, but in most scenarios I’d strike the hand hard, either forcing you to drop the gun or stun you before prying the gun loose from your hands. If the gun drops, I would kick it out of the way. If not, I release the magazine. Remember, to disarm a person holding a gun, always attack the hand holding the gun, not the supporting hand.”

“Why?”

“Because turning toward the primary hand holding the gun is not as fast as turning toward the support hand.” He demonstrated then handed the gun and the empty magazine back to her.

Amy snapped it in place. “Do it again.”

He rushed her again. This time, he grabbed the gun, pressed the base of her thumb and twisted her wrist up and away. He moved her arm to an awkward angle, forcing Amy to her knees.

“How did you do that?” she asked. “I was expecting the same move you pulled before.”

“Rookie mistake. Watch.”

He looked so sexy demonstrating every move, his muscles rippling with each gesture. Amy forgot why they were in the garage as he moved closer, his hand gripped hers then he pulled her against him. His warmth wrapped around her senses and his musky scent awakened a hunger deep within her. When she sunk to her knees, her face close to his crotch, her imagination went wild.

“Are you focusing?” he snapped.

“Of course.” She got to her feet and prayed her face didn’t give her away. “Can you do it again?”

He showed her the move again. This time she paid attention.

Amy tried it. “Got it.”

“Good. Step back and aim at me again.”

He moved toward her, grabbed the wrist holding the gun with his left hand. With his right, he grabbed the barrel, pushed it toward her, rolling it against her thumbs until the gun pointed at her. He now held the barrel.

“If you’ve noticed, all my moves involved forcing the thumb away from the gun. The thumb might anchor your grip on the barrel, but it is also the weakest part of your hand. Now that I have the gun, I can remove the magazine and throw the gun away or hit you hard on the temple to stun you. You try it.”

She tried and he let her take the gun from him. He made it too easy. “You could try resisting.”

“I will. Right now, I want you to get the basic moves. Later, we’ll work on each move until you master them all.” He stepped back and wiggled his fingers. “Point the gun at me, except this time, use one hand. Pretend you are holding Raelynn’s hand with your other one.”

He waited until Amy complied then he grabbed her wrist with his left, faked a punch. “Hit the inside of the elbow as hard as you can. The intention is to break it or sprain it. The gun drops or you pry it from his hand, knee him as hard as you can and run.”

Amy nodded, but on the inside, she wondered if she had what it took to protect her daughter. She wasn’t sure what Nolan’s end game was.

“Listen, when you point a gun at someone, you’d better mean business. Knowing how to use a gun and actually shooting someone are two very different things, so I’ll ask you one thing. How far are you willing to go to protect yourself and Raelynn?”

Memories of what Nolan put them through flashed through her head. Her hand began to shake, but she stiffened her arm not to show it. “All the way.”

“Then show it.” Eddie stepped back and crossed his arms, his expression serious.

Egged on by the horror from her past, Amy lifted the gun. Eddie walked toward her, eyes fierce, lips curled back in a snarl, muscles bulging in his arms as his hands fisted. A feeling of déjà vu rolled through her. Light exploded in her head. The man bearing down on her was no longer a friend. No longer her trainer. In his place was a shorter man, curly light-brown hair, moustache twitching, hazel eyes gleaming with malice, mouth hurling taunts.

“Pull the goddamn trigger. If you mean it, you sniveling idiot, pull the trigger.”

Rage rose from deep inside her core, the echoes of it piercing the air in a yell as hands reached for her. Amy pulled an evasive maneuver she’d read about online—she dropped to her knees, raised the gun and pressed it against his stomach.

Surprise flickered in hazel eyes superimposed on gray. The mouth