"Up the security. Keep him safe until after the court case."
Jake turned to Declan. "How do you feel about all this? Are you okay to go ahead?"
Something flashed across his face and then was gone. He shrugged. "Whatever you think best."
Did he want this over with? Including her? A week ago, she would have said yes. Now she wasn't so sure. "We go ahead then."
Declan rose to his feet. "Will you walk me out?" he said to her.
She followed him out of the room, eyes glued to his very impressive ass. At the elevator she pressed the button for the ground floor and gestured for him to enter.
"You don't need to worry about me," he said as the doors closed behind them.
She shrugged again. "It won't do the firm's reputation any good if we lose a client. Especially now, when Jake's stepping down. So I'd prefer it if you didn't get yourself killed."
He leaned back against the wall of the elevator. "Maybe I should get a gun."
"I don't think so." She shuddered. Clients with guns were not on top of her things-I-want list. "Can you shoot?"
"Never tried. Never even held a gun."
"Never? Really?" She considered him for a moment. "You want to?" Was she just looking for an excuse to keep him here? Probably. But what the hell. "Or have you got an important meeting to go to? You look like you have an important meeting." He was dressed in a sharp charcoal-gray suit, crisp white shirt, and dark red tie and looked the perfect executive. Except for maybe the restlessness in his silver-gray eyes. It occurred to her that maybe he wasn't happy with his perfect life.
When they'd been teenagers, she'd always known that under the controlled exterior had lurked a wild boy. It was what had drawn her to him. What had pushed her to get a reaction from him. She'd believed when they met again, that the wild boy was entirely eradicated beneath the perfect veneer of sophistication. But he wasn't gone entirely. He might show a perfect front to the world, but beneath the glossy facade there was a volcano waiting to explode. There always had been. Her question was did Declan have more or less control now than he'd had ten years ago?
But why should she care.
He studied her for a moment. Then pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and pressed speed dial. "Paul? Cancel my meetings this morning. Something's come up." He closed the call before the other man could speak and turned back to her.
Heat coiled in her belly, and her heart rate picked up. Leaning across him, she pressed the button for the basement.
It was quiet down on the lower level. There were a lot of cases at the moment and most of the operatives were out on assignment. At the far end of the corridor, she punched in the code for the shooting range, then pressed her thumb to the pad. The door clicked open. Jake had contacts that facilitated them getting the licenses for their firearms, but there were strict rules for their storage.
The room was big, but narrow, and the longer side ran along the whole depth of the building. It consisted of a counter that spanned this end of the room, and then the room was split into three alleys. She paused just inside the door, glanced at him, then turned back and locked it behind them. Declan's eyebrows rose, but he didn't say anything as she led him to the gun safe at the far corner of the room, and again input the code and pressed her thumb to the pad. Declan shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the counter and rolled up his sleeves.
She selected a Sig Pro 9mm-one of her favorites-and a magazine. She turned and handed it to Declan, minus the bullets.
"It's not very big," he murmured. The weapon did look small in his large hand.
"It's big enough." She took the gun from him. "You need to insert the magazine, like so. Then to load the chamber you pull back the slide, like this"-she demonstrated-"and release it. Easy. Here you go."
After removing the magazine and bullet, she handed the gun and ammunition to Declan. He slotted the magazine, chambered the bullet. "Now what?"
"Take out the bullets. We'll have a go without them first."
She stood behind him, stepping up close so she could feel the heat of his skin though his clothes. "Now," she said, "grip your pistol firm in both hands, but keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to shoot." Her hands rested on his upper arms, steadying him, and a prickle of awareness ran through her.
"Your feet should be shoulder-width apart." Jess slipped a leg between his and nudged them apart. "Stretch out your arms, and lean slightly forward, but stay balanced. Now take a deep breath, exhale halfway, hold it, and squeeze the trigger."
He squeezed, the pistol made a slight clicking noise.