Nix: The Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club, Book 7.5 by Candace Blevins Page B
Authors: Candace Blevins
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they weren’t going to eat a paying customer.
The new RTMC range has an underground one-hundred-yard facility, and I was overriding the deer’s aversion to predators in order to come here to shoot instead of enduring thirty-degree weather in my backyard. I’d bought a house in the sticks with enough acreage to make my own range, but I had to admit it was nice to come to a professional range in midwinter.
I grinned at Horse as I walked in, but then did a double-take. The range didn’t open until two on Saturdays because there were classes in there. Horse taught the classes, so…
“Why aren’t you teaching? Are your enrollment numbers down? I thought ya’ll had to add to the schedule because you had so many people signing up?”
“Got a new teacher. Ex-military sniper, and he’s teaching a rifle class this morning. We’re outfitting a new classroom so I can teach handguns while he handles the rifle side. Until then, we’ll just do one or the other, like before when it was just me teaching.”
“It’s afternoon, Horse.”
He chuckled. “Still morning to those of us who partied until practically dawn.”
I shook my head and walked toward the display cases. “Got anything new in?”
He showed me a few carry-sized pistols, and then I wandered over to the gun sights and we discussed some of the new lighter-weight options. We were deep in conversation when I smelled a handful of humans and a wolf I didn’t recognize by scent, but I forced myself to remain calm and focus on the conversation with Horse. The wolf talked to the people in his class as he walked them out, helped someone choose between range bags, and then walked over to us.
I glanced at him as he neared, and then looked at Horse, hoping the wolf wouldn’t talk to me if I didn’t appear interested. He had a close trimmed beard and thick hair my fingers itched to fondle, and his self-assured cocky stride made me want to watch him walk while my deer wanted to turn and run.
He stepped close enough to us it would’ve been rude for me to continue looking at Horse, so I turned toward him and tried to look normal.
“You’re Tiffany Mason.”
I took three steps back as adrenaline flooded my system, but I stood straighter and told him, “Tippy. Friends call me Tippy. How do you know who I am?”
He gave me a wry grin. “Watched you in the Olympics, saw you on the medal stand. What are you doing in Chattanooga?”
“Olympics?” Horse asked, his voice gentle as if he didn’t want to make me any more skittish.
“I’m fine, Horse. Don’t treat me with kid gloves. Yeah, I shot competition and have lots of medals and trophies, but I retired from that life.”
“If you’d told me your history I wouldn’t have made you take the class before you could use the range, Tip.”
I shrugged towards Horse without explaining why I didn’t like to broadcast my history and make myself the person to beat. I met the new guy’s gaze and asked, “You know who I am — perhaps you’ll introduce yourself?”
“I’m Nix.”
“Another nickname, I assume?” He wasn’t wearing an RTMC vest, but Horse told me they didn’t in the gun store, on the advice of a couple of attorneys.
He nodded. “I’ll let you get back to whatever you were buying.”
“I came for the range. I’ll just pay for my targets and go shoot.”
I spent time in both the rifle and pistol ranges, and it was nearly five o’clock when I finally came back out front.
3
N ix
I smelled her as she came down the hallway toward the front of the store, and arranged to be in her way as she walked through.
I’d been in town two months, ample time to become friends with the local MC members enough they offered me a Chattanooga patch — and to get to know the city so I could manage a decent date. Maybe. My favorite restaurants serve large quantities of meat, but Horse’s girl is a rabbit shifter and when they’ve invited me to lunch we’ve gone places with good organic greens and
The new RTMC range has an underground one-hundred-yard facility, and I was overriding the deer’s aversion to predators in order to come here to shoot instead of enduring thirty-degree weather in my backyard. I’d bought a house in the sticks with enough acreage to make my own range, but I had to admit it was nice to come to a professional range in midwinter.
I grinned at Horse as I walked in, but then did a double-take. The range didn’t open until two on Saturdays because there were classes in there. Horse taught the classes, so…
“Why aren’t you teaching? Are your enrollment numbers down? I thought ya’ll had to add to the schedule because you had so many people signing up?”
“Got a new teacher. Ex-military sniper, and he’s teaching a rifle class this morning. We’re outfitting a new classroom so I can teach handguns while he handles the rifle side. Until then, we’ll just do one or the other, like before when it was just me teaching.”
“It’s afternoon, Horse.”
He chuckled. “Still morning to those of us who partied until practically dawn.”
I shook my head and walked toward the display cases. “Got anything new in?”
He showed me a few carry-sized pistols, and then I wandered over to the gun sights and we discussed some of the new lighter-weight options. We were deep in conversation when I smelled a handful of humans and a wolf I didn’t recognize by scent, but I forced myself to remain calm and focus on the conversation with Horse. The wolf talked to the people in his class as he walked them out, helped someone choose between range bags, and then walked over to us.
I glanced at him as he neared, and then looked at Horse, hoping the wolf wouldn’t talk to me if I didn’t appear interested. He had a close trimmed beard and thick hair my fingers itched to fondle, and his self-assured cocky stride made me want to watch him walk while my deer wanted to turn and run.
He stepped close enough to us it would’ve been rude for me to continue looking at Horse, so I turned toward him and tried to look normal.
“You’re Tiffany Mason.”
I took three steps back as adrenaline flooded my system, but I stood straighter and told him, “Tippy. Friends call me Tippy. How do you know who I am?”
He gave me a wry grin. “Watched you in the Olympics, saw you on the medal stand. What are you doing in Chattanooga?”
“Olympics?” Horse asked, his voice gentle as if he didn’t want to make me any more skittish.
“I’m fine, Horse. Don’t treat me with kid gloves. Yeah, I shot competition and have lots of medals and trophies, but I retired from that life.”
“If you’d told me your history I wouldn’t have made you take the class before you could use the range, Tip.”
I shrugged towards Horse without explaining why I didn’t like to broadcast my history and make myself the person to beat. I met the new guy’s gaze and asked, “You know who I am — perhaps you’ll introduce yourself?”
“I’m Nix.”
“Another nickname, I assume?” He wasn’t wearing an RTMC vest, but Horse told me they didn’t in the gun store, on the advice of a couple of attorneys.
He nodded. “I’ll let you get back to whatever you were buying.”
“I came for the range. I’ll just pay for my targets and go shoot.”
I spent time in both the rifle and pistol ranges, and it was nearly five o’clock when I finally came back out front.
3
N ix
I smelled her as she came down the hallway toward the front of the store, and arranged to be in her way as she walked through.
I’d been in town two months, ample time to become friends with the local MC members enough they offered me a Chattanooga patch — and to get to know the city so I could manage a decent date. Maybe. My favorite restaurants serve large quantities of meat, but Horse’s girl is a rabbit shifter and when they’ve invited me to lunch we’ve gone places with good organic greens and
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