The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 732

With their gear sorted, Leilani decided to put in some range time.

The firing range was located directly beneath Jacko's shop.

Pushing past a heavy, soundproof steel door, the space opened up dramatically.

No one walking into the cramped, dusty tactical store above would ever guess a facility like this existed underground.

It was far more expansive than Leilani had anticipated.

The walls and ceiling were paneled with thick, dark acoustic foam. The air carried the sharp, distinct scent of gun oil mixed with burnt cordite.

Row after row of cold, white overhead lights illuminated the shooting bays with clinical clarity.

Once Jacko escorted Leilani and Callahan downstairs, he tactfully excused himself, leaving them alone.

Arnold, reading the room perfectly, went back upstairs with Jacko as well.

He still had a few logistics and security details to iron out regarding the Northern Myanor operation, and he certainly wasn't about to play the oblivious third wheel.

The massive underground range was suddenly very quiet, occupied only by the two of them.

Leilani and Callahan exchanged a look, both seeing a glimmer of amusement in the other's eyes at their sudden privacy.

Leilani had dabbled at civilian ranges back home. While those had been lower-caliber or even recreational firearms, the fundamental mechanics remained the same.

Callahan didn't even need to offer instructions before she had familiarized herself with the real steel in her hands.

She slipped on a pair of noise-canceling earmuffs, adjusted her stance, leveled the sights, and smoothly squeezed the trigger.

*Bang!*

*Bang!*

*Bang!*

Three sharp, deafening cracks echoed in the bay. Downrange, the electronic target monitor flashed, displaying a surprisingly tight cluster of bullet holes.

Though it was slightly off the dead center of the bullseye, for someone handling a combat-grade firearm for the first time, her accuracy was astonishing.

This wasn't a recreational toy. The recoil on this weapon was completely unforgiving.

Unbelievably pathetic.

A fleeting, barely perceptible ache of protectiveness stirred in Callahan's chest, but he buried it instantly.

Leilani caught that brief, complicated flash in his eyes. She had no idea what he was thinking, but she didn't particularly like the heavy look on his face.

She turned fully toward him, lifting her chin.

Her features were suddenly illuminated by a rare, fiercely vibrant confidence. The usual cool, detached mask she wore had vanished, replaced by a radiant, almost wild edge. The smirk on her lips was unrestrained and delightfully provocative.

"Well, Mr. Langley?"

"I didn't embarrass you, did I?"

In that split second, she looked utterly breathtaking. Vibrant, alive, and dangerous.

Callahan stared at her, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. His heart unexpectedly skipped a beat.

It felt as though a feather had been lightly dragged across his soul—a soft, maddeningly addictive flutter that sent a nameless thrill racing through his veins.