Falling for Faith by Anne Conley

Author:Anne Conley [Conley, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anne Conley
Published: 2014-08-20T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Faith couldn’t find a way to relieve the pit of nausea in her stomach at the idea that Satan himself was after her. Nor the idea that Michael was there to protect her. Years of instinct took over, and she did the only thing she knew to do.

She prepared.

The next morning, after a breakfast of oatmeal with brown sugar and raisins, a fairly innocuous affair, considering what they were planning for, she led Michael to the storage building next to her cabin.

It was a new building she’d installed shortly after buying the cabin. It was a metal structure that held her lawnmower, gardening tools, a stocked deep freeze, and her reloading equipment.

Along the far wall, sat a standard five by ten tool bench with cabinets above it. But it had everything she would need in any possible emergency. Not that reloading was a quick affair, but it steadied her nerves and gave her a purpose. Over the past few years, she had reloaded thousands of rounds for her sizeable gun collection. Not that she’d used most of them, but she had them nonetheless.

Michael was impressed, letting out a low whistle as his eyes roamed the bench, his hand stroking it idly.

“What do you reload?”

“Mostly .45s, but I have a lot of different dies, one for each caliber I own, so I’m set up to do most of them.” She opened the cabinet to display over a dozen bullet presses, each loaded with a different caliber die.

“You know bullets won’t kill him, don’t you?” He asked her seriously, his silver eyes intensely focused on her, begging her to understand the situation.

She nodded. “Yeah, but it helps me focus on whatever task I have. So this is what I’ll be doing today, getting my head straight.”

And she needed her head straight. She needed to put all this self-pity back in the recesses of her mind where it belonged and focus on battle.

She got busy, pulling out all her brass and focusing on the steps to reloading: trimming shells, measuring powder, clamping, testing. She lined her finished bullets up in rows in a tray next to Michael, who worked alongside her in silence after he had spent some time watching her.

As practiced as she was, he was faster, but no one could argue her accuracy. She’d reloaded a lot, especially since Eli had died, and she’d tested her loads until she had a formula for her own perfect shot.

Eli had shown her the relaxation in reloading, they’d worked together before he’d enlisted. But nothing was really the same with Michael. She could do all kinds of things with him she’d done with Eli and it would still be different.

Strength and serenity radiated from Michael in waves. Standing next to him, she could smell his scent, hear his breathing, feel his heat. Occasionally, they brushed arms or legs as they reached for something in the other’s space. They didn’t speak or laugh or joke like she had with Eli. But his presence had an effect on her all the same.

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