Page 77 of Booked for Murder

“Think she can take out a moose at a hundred yards?”

“With good aim, you can take out an elephant with one of these, although you generally won’t want to take out anything larger than an elk with it. That said, a hundred yards is your realistic maximum range. Your drop-out beyond that range gets nasty in a hurry.”

“What’s my drop-out at a hundred yards?”

“Two inches. With your skills and some practice to warm back up, you could make the shot.”

Two inches wasn’t bad at that range, and I eyed my gun with newfound respect. “Bitchageddon is a beast.”

“Yes, she is. Hand her over, and let’s give Pride a chance to strut her stuff for you.”

If I let her, much like Bitchageddon, the Beretta would punch me in the face, especially if Lenard made me use her automatic mode. “I’m woman enough to admit I’m scared.”

“She really will crack you in the nose if you let her, so don’t let her. If you can handle Pride, you should make it right up to Doomsday. Doomsday will be your real challenge, so I’m saving her for last. When you use her for the first time, I’ll have Hampton spot you as well, as I’d rather you not get knocked off that stool. We’ll also try you at max range.”

I eyed the target, which was set at thirty yards to give me a decent challenge despite being rusty. “What’s max range in this ridiculous gallery?”

“Fifty yards.”

Only the excessively rich installed a fifty-yard firing range in their backyard and converted it into a bomb shelter—or converted the bomb shelter into a luxury firing range. “I want to try a hundred yards, Lenard.”

“Make it through all five magazines, and as soon as you’re in the boot, I’ll take you on a field trip to a proper outdoor range so you can practice all distances.”

“Promise?”

“You’re something else. Get through five magazines, and I’ll take you to an outdoor range after you’re no longer rolling around in that very fashionable wheelchair.”

Fucking wheelchair. “I still want to throw it down the stairs.”

“That’s because you’re an independent woman who struggles with relying on others. Walking is an expression of independence for you, and when you can’t walk, you are keenly aware of that loss of independence. It’s fine to depend on others for things you cannot do for yourself, Janette. You’ll likely have a few more stints in a wheelchair ahead of you. Magic can only do so much. Don’t be stupid trying to be independent. View yourself as lucky you still have that foot, baby it so you keep having that foot, and get on with your day. Now, you be careful with Pride. For your first shot with her, I’m going to help you stabilize her. If you think Bitchageddon has recoil, Pride is her equal, and she will want you to know it. The mods installed on this gun have made her recoil worse than in the standard models. I’ve done extensive shooting with this weapon, as her mod combination can be a bear, and I had the manufacturer help with them. So, you walk lightly with Pride.”

“Please tell me Prejudice isn’t going to try to kill me after Pride finishes with me.”

“Prejudice is a kitten in comparison, and she’ll purr for you. If you falter on Prejudice, Doomsday is out of the question for today, and I’ll probably even let you test the Browning to see how you like it for getting through three of the four. If you lack the hand strength for Doomsday, that’s no fault of yours, and I’m not going to punish you for it. I might pick up a second test gun from the storage run to make you do five magazines anyway.”

“Or I can do two runs with Prejudice, especially if she’ll be my main conceal carry.”

“She’ll be your main conceal carry.”

“If I can’t handle Doomsday, then I’ll do two magazines with Prejudice.”

“Let’s get to it again. Remember to breathe and take your time. I’ll test your accuracy at speed another day. Right now, I want you to get a feel for those weapons and remember what you’re doing.”

Lenard returned the mufflers to over my ears, and while I checked over Pride, I heard shots fired from down the range where Bradley worked. Unlike me, he wasted no time between shots, likely practicing how to reset his aim as quickly as possible in case he got caught in a gunfight.

Speed and accuracy mattered when it came down to kill or be killed.

The Beretta did pack a punch, but while she bucked in my hand, I didn’t need Lenard’s help to keep her stable and away from my face. I reached for the ammo box, set it on my lap, and refilled the magazine, eyeing the fully automatic mode.

Lenard called for a cease fire, and he pulled the mufflers off my ear. “That’s not putting Pride away so you can work with Prejudice.”

Rather than waste breath talking, I pointed at the fully automatic mode.

He chuckled. “I will be helping you stabilize for that, but very well. We’ll give it a go. If you think she recoils hard in semi-automatic mode, she’s going to knock you off your stool in fully automatic mode.”

“I don’t want to fall off the stool, but I need to see what she can do.”

“Bradley, come have a look-see,” Lenard ordered.