Die for You

Chapter 22

The house was virtually empty when we got back from the hospital, it was mid afternoon and almost everyone was already gone. Becky had dashed from place to place searching from room to room looking for signs of her parents.

It's funny, but when she's here and there's no one about to judge her, it's like she's a little kid again, or at least that's how I see it, sprinting down the corridors and skidding to a halt next to doorways before poking her head in and calling. Watching her run around with that cast on her arm is like how I would imagine going back in time would be, except that she's anything but a small child; small yes, but a child?

Definitely not.

I smiled as I remembered our banter on the way back from the hospital. She teased me about my absurd argument that her broken wrist could help her get fitter for our planned race. We playfully fought, neither of us taking it too seriously. It reminded me of a happier time in my life, with a person I could do the same with, before a fucking sniper took his life.

As I watched her dash from room to room, I pulled my phone from out of my pocket and read my messages from the Helen telling me that she had already fobbed Amanda, Andy asking me about out meeting with the security team and James telling me that they had rode back with Rob to London and that I had to "grow some balls", whatever that means.

"Freen, do you mind if we stay here for another day or so?" Becky called out from the hallway.

"My time is yours," I told her. "James told me to work to your timetable, so if you want to stay, that's fine. I'll probably need to pop out and buy a few things to see me over, but that's not an issue either. I'm sure there'll still be somewhere open by the time my meeting's finished."

"Cool. That way we can go and see mum for a bit. She wants another lesson from you, apparently. Then you can have your meeting and we can head off for a bit of shopping. I'll be able to pick up some new clothes and stuff as well while we're at it."

I silently replied with nothing but rolled eyes.

---

Jenna was as enthusiastic as ever as she pounded clay after clay into dust. To my surprise though, as well as her Purdey shotgun, she'd brought an expensive looking rifle down to the private range; and after twenty minutes of shotgun tuition she pushed it into my arms.

"I thought you'd like to get some practice in, Freen, if you're going to beat James in that competition he was on about. Can't help you with pistols or that combat range thing I'm afraid, but I had Andrew dig out one of Rob's rifles and we've set up a target at the end of the field, I'm not sure if that's too far."

I squinted down range to see some small targets set up on hay bales in front of a raised bank of ground that would act as an effective backstop. They were far enough away to be more than challenging. I'd never been much of a marksman when it came to the long rifle stuff. Unlike James, I didn't have the patience to be a sniper, I was always a kick in the door and throw in the flash bang kind of soldier. I didn't have the finesse to be anything but 'in your face'.

"It's only a .22 hunting rifle I'm afraid, but I suppose it's better than nothing."

"It'll be fine Jenna, I appreciate the thought, thank you," I said, hefting the rifle and opening and clearing the beautifully-oiled action. It was a nice example of a .22 rim-fire hunting rifle, with a stubby silencer screwed onto the carbine barrel and fitted with a large and expensive looking scope. All in all a lovely little rifle, not my taste I have to admit, but it would definitely do the job.