The Hitman's Secret

Ch. 6: Sparrow

VALENTINA

Passera. Val wanted to recoil at the degrading pet name. Sparrow.

This man had absolutely no right to speak to her with such familiarity. And he certainly had no right to call her sparrow. What the hell did that even mean?

"I'm not here to see you," Val drawled, picking at a nonexistent hangnail. "I'm here to practice shooting. Now, if you'll excuse me–"

"I'm surprised you came without your guard dog." Another wicked smile pulled on Bastian's lips, and his pale blue eyes flickered toward Luca and Elisa behind her. "Costa didn't seem inclined to let you stray far from his side last time we met."

Val scoffed. "Have you forgotten who you're talking to? Matteo doesn't control me. I control him."

A lie. A complete lie. She knew she had no chance of forcing the hitman to do something he didn't want to do. Her father, on the other hand, still commanded Matteo's every movement.

"Right," Bastian hummed, a bemused, unconvinced sound that had Val's teeth grinding. He still stood in her way, blocking her route to the shooting range. "Nonetheless, I'm impressed. I could've sworn you wouldn't be back. Not after you left with your tail tucked between your legs."

"Tail tucked between my legs?" she echoed, incredulous, crossing her arms against her chest.

Dio, she'd never wanted to slap someone so much in her life, but she knew that his words were meant to goad her. He wanted to get a reaction out of her, and Val wouldn't be so easy to ensnare. Before Bastian's crooked smirk could elicit any further reaction from her, Val rolled her eyes and sidestepped around him.

"If you're finished..." she muttered and tried to walk past him, but a warm hand clamped on her bicep, holding her in place.

"Aspettare," Bastian commanded with silken authority. Wait.

Val turned to face him, eyes flaring between his hand on her arm and his pale eyes.

Behind her, Luca stepped forward, ready to intervene. "Watch yourself, Bastian."

But this was a battle she needed to face alone. She wrenched her arm out of his grip and challenged, "Can I help you?"

"No. Definitely not," he responded, arrogant. "But I can help you."

Val cocked a brow. "Really? Somehow I doubt that."

Bastian nodded. Although he no longer held her bicep in a steel grip, he stood dangerously close. His gaze never left hers as he reached into the back of his waistband and, to Val's surprise, withdrew a gun, far smaller than any firearm she'd laid eyes on before.

"Last time, Costa had you practicing with a gun that probably weighed more than your own arm," he explained, not bothering to subdue the disdain in his accented voice. "It made you sloppy and your aim shit. Use this."

He handed Val the little pistol, and it fit in the palm of her hand like a toy. Her brows furrowed as she weighed it in her hand. "It's... lighter."

Bastian huffed a small chuckle and nodded again. "That's the point. Perfect for people with low hand strength. Like you. Not to mention it'll fit in your purse, passera."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his added slight, too excited by the prospect of a weapon that she could actually wield successfully. "But, if it's so small, will I still be able to defend myself with it?"

Again, amusement danced across his face. "It might not blow a fuckin' hole through a man's chest like the gun Costa gave you, but it'll stop anyone long enough for you to get away. Especially because you'll actually be able to aim it."