Nix Read online

  Her smile was adorably shy as she told me, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in seeing what you can do on a two-mile range.”

  I had a feeling I’d get farther with Tippy by giving in, so I told her, “I won’t hold dinner hostage. You can come tomorrow whether you grace me with your presence this evening or not.”

  She rolled her eyes. “My car and gear will probably be safer in front of the RTMC gun store than at the restaurant, so I’ll ride with you. Just let me stow everything in the trunk.”

  I followed her out and watched from a few feet away as she put her weapons and range bag in the trunk of her Audi RS5. She was stowing around twenty thousand dollars’ worth of weapons into a seventy thousand dollar car, and I tried to sound casual as I said, “Apparently, whatever you do now pays quite well.”

  “You’re a car guy and a gun guy?”

  “V8, seven speed transmission.” I looked at her, debating whether to add my thoughts. “It’s what someone who wants a precision machine — but doesn’t want to draw attention to themselves — would drive.”

  She glanced at me before strapping everything in and closing the trunk. “Guilty. Like I said, I like to keep a low profile.”

  I nodded. “Okay then, I won’t wear my colors at dinner.”

  “Colors?”

  “My RTMC vest.”

  Her face went bright red at the thoughts of being with someone who drew attention to himself, and I chuckled. “I have a helmet for you to wear. Let’s go through the store to the back.”

  Chapter Four

  Tippy

  I’d expected a racing bike, but Nix had a huge motorcycle with an awesome seat for me behind him.

  I knew the engine was going to be loud, but I wasn’t expecting it to vibrate so much when he started it, and he patted my arm at my fear when the bike roared to life.

  I wrapped my arms around him — probably tighter than necessary — and he slowly pulled through the parking lot and maneuvered out into traffic.

  I’d never really considered how vulnerable bikers are, driving amongst cars, but I felt like everyone’s eyes were on me and there was no way to hide. The cars, trucks, and SUVs around us seemed more like armored tanks, and when we finally parked five or ten minutes later my nerves were shot.

  Why had I thought a short ride through town on a motorcycle was doable?

  He helped me get my helmet off as he said, “I’m sorry you were so scared. Is there anything I can do to keep from scaring you so much on the way back?”

  Damned wolf senses. He could smell my deer’s terror. I took a breath and resolved to get my fear under control as I told him, “I’m okay. It’s a new experience and I guess I just hadn’t expected to feel so… naked… amongst the cars.” I tend to stutter when I’m scared sometimes, so I’ve learned to stop talking and form my words carefully.

  I smelled wolf arousal a split second after I said the word naked, and I turned away and blushed. I’m not a sexual prude, but I wasn’t prepared to deal with sexual tension with a wolf. Talk about the king of all bad ideas.

  “C’mon, my darling little deer. Let’s get some food in us.”

  He didn’t sound patronizing, thank goodness, and I turned to him and let him walk me into the restaurant, his hand at the small of my back.

  Somehow, in the short time I’d known him, I’d started seeing him as protector rather than predator. His hand at my back meant safety, not danger.

  It still didn’t mean sex was a good idea, though.

  I expected a long wait, because no way did he just happen to have reservations. However, as soon as the hostess saw us walk in the door she smiled and said, “Nix, Sally said to expect you. We’re clearing a table near the back now. Follow me, please.”

  Once we were seated and alone, I asked, “Who’s Sally?”

  “The manager. I called while you were in the range and told her I might be by for dinner, and Horse texted her once you said you’d eat with me, to let her know we were on the way.”

  “How do you know her?”

  “This is a favorite restaurant for several of our members, so we installed their security system and give them a deep discount to monitor them. We’ve put the restaurant under our formal protection, and they make sure they can fit us in when we get a hankering for farm-to-table goodness.”

  I shook my head and changed the conversation. “I’m not the only one with expensive toys. Depending on how you have it tricked out, I’m guessing you have at least ten grand in your .338 Lapua.”

  “And you stowed about twice that amount in weaponry in the back of your seventy grand car.”

  “I bought it used, with fifteen thousand miles on it so I didn’t pay full price. As for the weapons…” How much should I tell him? I wasn’t prepared to tell him too many personal details, so I hedged with, “For a variety of reasons, I didn’t pay retail for most of them, either.”

  “You’ve traveled around the world to compete, what made you settle in Chattanooga?”

  “I have family in the deer enclave in Northeast Alabama, and I own property just over the Georgia line, past St. Elmo.” Most deer can’t handle living in human society. Our freeze-or-flee instinct pretty much paralyzes us, but I made the decision to fight past it so I could live my dream of shooting in the Olympics. It wasn’t easy, and still isn’t, but I prefer living outside the safety of the enclaves.

  He sat back and looked at me a few seconds before saying, “Full disclosure. I had our resident computer geek tell me what he could legally find out about you, while you were in the range.”

  My heart sped and my breathing went shallow, and I forced myself to take a deep breath and let it out, and then take another before I asked, “Do I dare ask what he found out?’

  “Mason was your maiden name. You married and divorced, but kept his name, probably to try to stay under the radar so people wouldn’t recognize you as Tiffany Mason the Olympian. You go by Tippy Delfino, now.”

  I took a sip of water to try to stay calm. “What else did he find out?”

  “Tippy Delfino is a gunsmith who specializes in custom work and has a number of federal dealer licenses, which is why you don’t pay retail for your weapons, and it’s why two of the custom guns I saw didn’t cost anywhere near what they would if you’d payed a gunsmith to make. You made them.”

  I nodded. “So, that’s three people in town who know who I am?” Nix, Horse, and now their computer geek. I’d hidden for so long, and my heart was in my stomach as I worried what this might mean for my anonymity.

  “My turn to tell you some private stuff.” He took a breath and let it out. “I was in the RTMC in Asheville, and met a sweet girl in a bar. It was one of those clubs that lets people in as long as they’re eighteen, and stamps people based on whether they can have alcohol or not. They bring in live bands — up-and-coming-talent — and the cover charge is substantial so I guess it’s worth the hassle to bring in those extra people.” He shrugged, fiddled with his hands, and then settled them on his legs. “She’d just turned eighteen and was there celebrating with friends. She was still in high school, but I didn’t ask about that. In my defense, I asked to look at her driver’s license, and questioned her to be sure she wasn’t a minor before I fucked her.”

  “I was in the Olympics in 2012 and my age was listed, so you didn’t have to ask someone to dig into my background to be sure I’m of legal age before you try to get me into your bed.”

  “She was the Chief of Police’s daughter. Their last name is Johnson, common enough I didn’t associate her with her father.”

  “But she was legal, what could he do?”

  “Instruct his officers to pull me over every time they saw me on the road, and to stop me and question me if they saw me when I wasn’t driving.” He leaned forward again, but slow, as if he was being careful not to startle me. “I was pulled over within a few miles of leaving home just about every day, and was often pulled over four or five times a day. I was searched and questi
oned, sometimes for an hour or more. I wanted to sue the city for harassment — I figured I could get a few dozen videos and have a decent case, but my MC wanted me to just move to another state. The city leaders had gotten along with us before, but the entire club lost the goodwill we’d gained with our local officers.” I could see the conflict in his eyes, could smell his anger, but it clearly wasn’t directed at me. “I’m not in the habit of running from trouble, but for the good of the club I agreed my President could put the word out to see if another city might need my services. It turned out Duke and Brain — the President and VP here — were looking for someone to help with the gun store, especially someone qualified to teach.”

  “You were a sniper in the military?”

  He nodded.

  “Don’t they usually hold onto snipers until they’re a lot older than you?”

  “They offered me a lot of money at the end of my last enlistment period, and when I turned it down they added about thirty percent to the amount, but I just couldn’t…” He shook his head. “I can kill people from more than a mile away. You get that, right?”

  I nodded.

  “It was time for me to leave. While I still had my soul.”

  “You’re telling me a lot about yourself. I have a feeling you don’t do that very often.”

  He shook his head. “My sister is the only female I’ve told any of this to, before you.”

  “Does she live in Asheville?”

  “No, she’s in Atlanta.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “Small town about an hour south of Asheville. They were proud of their son the soldier, but not so much of their son the biker.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re the same person — probably a better person, now that you aren’t being ordered to kill people for a living.”

  He gave me a wry smile. “So it was the wolf part you had a problem with, and not the biker part?”

  I shrugged. “More wolf than biker, but some of both. I have to be careful I don’t do anything to jeopardize my various licenses and clearances, but I assume you aren’t a felon since you’re working in the gun store, and with your ex-military status — especially being a sniper — you have to be incredibly self-disciplined. So, while I’m not sure about the biker part, it’s really more the wolf…” I rolled my eyes. “Somehow though, you’ve made me feel as if the wolf will keep me safe instead of eating me. No predator species has ever managed that, before. I can be around Horse, and the various wolves in the gun store, but I’m always on edge around them. I have a range at home, but you have the only indoor long-distance range in town, so I bought the membership in spite of the fact there’s almost always a grizzly bear and a few wolves hanging around.”

  “Ask your question.”

  “How do you know I have a question I’m not asking?”

  “Do you?”

  “I have several.”

  “So ask. You get a pass on asking rude questions since I poked into your past.”

  “My deer was initially terrified of your wolf. I overrode the instinct to run, but…does the opposite hold true? Does your wolf smell me and want to rip into my throat?”

  “You in particular? No. My wolf smelled your fear and usually wants to attack anything afraid, but he didn’t with you. Maybe it’s because we could smell your resolve, too? Also, even though you were afraid, you had a loaded weapon on your hip and I knew you’d use it to defend yourself. Deer or not, you weren’t easy prey.”

  He said I got a pass on rude questions, so I asked the one I’d bitten back earlier. “When I said you no longer have to kill for a living, I got an odd vibe off you. Why? Do you still kill people for a living?”

  “For a living? No. I teach classes and work in the gun store for a living.”

  “But you still have to kill sometimes as part of… what?”

  He looked at me a few seconds before he finally said, “In the military, you get orders to take someone out and no one has to explain. Sometimes you know why they need to die, but often you have no idea who the person is, much less what they’ve done or might do. You’re given several photographs of the target and sometimes you’re told what they’re wearing — and you’re sent to take the target out.”

  He hadn’t answered my question, so I waited for him to put his thoughts together. “I found out the chain of command sent me to kill someone not because they were a threat to the country I’d agreed to fight and kill for, but because they were a threat to someone’s political career. Because it was a classified mission, my options for proving this were extremely limited.” He shrugged. “I made sure the politician was sunk on another matter, so his career ended anyway, but that was all I could do to try to make it right.” I could hear and smell his sadness and anger. “A career for a life. Sucks, but I wasn’t going to take away someone else’s father to try to make it even. More death wasn’t the answer.”

  “So, you’d still kill now if you felt there was a good reason the person needed to die? Leaving the military just gave you the right of refusal? Is that it?”

  “I’m not saying I’ll never answer that question, but I don’t think I want to just yet.”

  “When you kill something, it can be said you nix it. Is that what your nickname means?”

  He nodded, his eyes wary, and I searched my mind for a way to change the conversation but he beat me to it. “You shot a twenty-two in the Olympics, but had larger caliber weapons today. It’s almost like you’ve changed the focus but are still in training.”

  “I’ve done some IDPA stuff because they keep it practical. Most competitions turn into something that gives you no real-life skills, but the IDPA’s rules don’t allow people to create specialized race guns. You’re competing based on mostly skill and not who can afford the best technology. Mostly, I want to be able to defend myself and my home. Plus, I enjoy being as good as I can be. The challenge of dialing your weapon in so you can hit something at a hundred yards means a ten-yard shot is a piece of cake.”

  “And if I can walk you through hitting a bullseye at a half-mile tomorrow?”

  I did the math in my head, “That’s just under 900 yards, right? I’ve played around on a three hundred yard range a few times. I can’t imagine tripling the distance.”

  “Like you said, at a certain point it becomes the person relying on technology, but in this case, without a good deal of skill and knowledge, the technology won’t be much help.” He shrugged. “I know the kind of precision shooting it takes to make it to the Olympics, much less come home with a silver medal. You have to know your weapon inside and out, know which ammunition works best when it’s cold, when it’s warm, when there’s humidity in the air versus dry air. Hell, even the altitude can change the trajectory. All this plays into what a sniper has to consider, too. You already know a lot of what a sniper has to know, you just have to apply it with a slightly different mindset. If I can’t get you dialed in at a half-mile tomorrow, I suck as a teacher.”

  “Why do you want to teach me?”

  “Good excuse to get close to you?”

  His grin told me just how close he wanted to get to me, and I shook my head. “I’m not interested in a relationship, Nix.”

  “Your divorce has been final a little over a year. Have you dated anyone since you got rid of him?”

  I shook my head.

  “Tell me you haven’t been celibate for a year, sweetheart.”

  His eyes were kind, his voice gentle, and my face went hot and I looked down, unsure of what to say. Jinn had been the best ever in bed, it was just too bad we couldn’t make it work outside of sex because no one was ever going to compare to him. I’d had sex about six weeks after the divorce was final, and then cried the next day because all I could do was compare the dude’s crappy technique to Jinn’s enchanted fingers and tongue and cock and… everything. Jinn was magic in bed, and out. No one else was ever going to be able to hold a candle to the way he could make me feel.

  The easiest way to explai
n was to tell Nix, “I was married to an Encantado.”

  He was quiet a few seconds before saying, “Wolves mate for life. We’re basically sluts before we fall in love, but once we do? We’re true to our mate.”

  My eyes teared up and I excused myself to the bathroom. How the hell had he zeroed in on my biggest problem? I’d thought I’d be okay knowing Jinn had sex a couple hundred times a month, and only a quarter or a third of those times with me. Since he loved me and wanted to share his life with me, his needing and wanting to have sex with so many others wouldn’t be a big deal. I’d thought.

  After all, deer aren’t monogamous, either. I was free to have sex with others — and I did. Not hundreds of others, but there weren’t any limits on either of us.

  Everything worked beautifully, at first, because for the first year he’d had sex with random people and hadn’t kept going back to anyone. However, once I realized he had a half a dozen people he was regularly having sex with, and one person he was having sex with more than me, I became jealous. I honestly didn’t blame him for not liking that side of me, because I hadn’t liked that side of me, either. Deer don’t normally feel that kind of jealousy, but as soon as I found out he was with her more than me, it’d stung.

  I stepped into the handicapped stall so I’d have some room, leaned against the wall, drew my gun from my holster, and held it against my leg. Not because I wanted to shoot someone, but because holding it settles me, centers me. I’ve spent a good portion of my life holding a gun and centering myself before a competition, and the feel of the grip, the weight, the smell — it all works like the bell did to Pavlov’s dogs, except it calms me instead of producing saliva.

  When I was no longer in danger of crying, I put it away, used the restroom, blew my nose, and went out to wash my hands. I wasn’t dressed for a date, nor did I have much makeup on, and my hair was in a ponytail. No matter, this was just dinner, right?