Chapter 5

Adrian's low sigh cut through the cheering crowd.

Juliette turned her head. Adrian was looking down at the floor, his brow heavily furrowed in a mask of pure distress.

He leaned down, his shoulder brushing against hers.

"I despise people who bathe in perfume," Adrian whispered, his voice laced with genuine misery.

Juliette blinked. She inhaled instinctively. The cloying, heavy scent of Blair's custom rose perfume burned the back of her throat.

Adrian shifted closer. The heat radiating from his chest seeped through her thin shirt.

"If I have to spend three weekends with her," Adrian murmured, his voice suddenly sounding incredibly fragile, "my sinuses will swell shut. I won't be able to spell a single gene sequence for you."

That sentence hit Juliette's brain like a lightning bolt.

Her experimental data was in danger. Her eyes sharpened instantly, the fear evaporating into pure, protective rage over her research.

Adrian watched the fire ignite in her eyes. He pushed a little harder. "Besides, her stance looked sloppy to me. Pure luck."

Adrian's words cut through the thick fog of her panic. He was right. The sheer incompetence on display was an insult to the sport she once loved. She forced the violent tremors in her hands to still, taking a slow, grounding breath. She channeled the suffocating fear into a cold, analytical rage. Juliette scoffed loudly, her professional arrogance completely taking over. "Her breathing rhythm is entirely wrong. And her wrist micro-twitches right before the break."

A dark gleam flashed in Adrian's eyes. "If you see the flaws, go up there and break her ego."

Juliette's fire dimmed slightly as she looked back at the gun. She rubbed her temples. "I haven't touched a grip in years."

Blair stood ten feet away, hands on her hips. "Are you begging him to save you? Just forfeit and get out!"

Sierra laughed loudly. "If you get on your knees and apologize, maybe we'll just take the guy and let you go."

Juliette's stubborn pride flared violently. Her hands balled into tight fists. She glared at Blair.

"Are you really going to let her take your fertilizer?" Adrian whispered softly, the ultimate bait.

That did it.

Juliette marched toward the shooting stall.

She stood in front of the table. She stared down at the black metal. She took a deep breath and reached out. Her fingers were trembling so badly she could barely keep them straight.

Just as her skin was about to touch the metal, a large, warm hand covered hers completely.

Juliette gasped and spun her head around.

Adrian was standing directly behind her. There was zero space between them. His chest was pressed firmly against her back.

"Since you're a beginner," Adrian's deep voice vibrated against her neck, "let the 'theory master' show you the ropes."

The crowd gasped. Blair's face turned purple. "You can't help her! That's cheating!"

Adrian didn't even look at Blair. His eyes were fixed on Juliette's trembling hand. "I'm only adjusting her grip. I won't touch the trigger. Standard beginner rules."

The range officer, intimidated by Adrian's cold aura, nodded nervously. "Grip correction is allowed."

Blair ground her teeth. "Fine! Hold her hand all you want. A loser is still a loser."

Adrian ignored the noise. He wrapped both of his arms around Juliette's waist, caging her against the table.

Juliette's brain short-circuited.

The panic of the gun vanished, entirely replaced by the overwhelming scent of cedar and the solid wall of muscle pressed against her spine. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs.

Adrian lowered his head. His jaw rested lightly against her shoulder.

"Breathe," he commanded softly.

His long fingers slowly pried her stiff, trembling fingers open. He guided her hand down, wrapping it around the textured grip of the pistol.

His thumb intentionally brushed across the sensitive skin of her palm. A jolt of electricity shot straight up Juliette's arm.

To the crowd, it looked like a romantic, clumsy lesson.

To Juliette, it was sensory overload.

"Your shoulder is too tight," Adrian murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

Juliette sucked in a sharp breath. She forced her eyes away from his hands and stared straight down the lane at the paper target.

The noise of the crowd faded. The smell of perfume vanished.

The cold metal in her hand suddenly felt like an extension of her own arm. The fear drained out of her, replaced by a terrifying, icy calm.