Captive Justice: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (A Jake & Annie Lincoln Thriller Book 4) by Rayven T. Hill Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rayven T. Hill
gun to Jake.
Jake took the weapon and wrapped his hand around it. It felt natural and not too heavy. He snapped the magazine in.
“The first round has to be manually loaded into the chamber,” Hank explained. “To load, pull back this slide and release it. After a round is fired, the spent casing will be ejected and a new round loaded into the chamber.”
Jake fumbled with the pistol a moment, finally got it loaded and aimed at the target.
Hank looked at Jake in amusement. “Make sure you’re in the proper firing stance. Your feet should be shoulder-width apart, with your left foot about a step past the other. Lean forward slightly with your knees bent, keep your head up and make sure you’re balanced.”
Jake did as he was told. It felt a little uncomfortable and not at all natural.
Hank chuckled. “You look like you’re about to start the hundred yard dash. Relax a bit and keep your thumb away from the hammer, or else when it pops back, you can get a nasty bite.”
Jake frowned at Hank, adjusted his stance and relaxed.
“Now, line up the front and rear sights and then take a breath, exhale and pull the trigger at the bottom of your breath cycle. Jerking the trigger abruptly will throw off your aim, so you need to squeeze the trigger.”
Jake aimed for a spot between the sightless eyes of the target and squeezed.
Nothing happened.
“The safety’s on.”
Jake grinned. “I knew that. I was just testing it.” He flicked off the safety and lined up the sights again. This time, when he squeezed the trigger, a shot exploded and echoed off the bare walls behind.
“Not bad,” Hank said. “You only missed the target by eight inches. Try again.”
Jake frowned at the weapon and took another shot.
“That’s better,” Hank said. “You clipped his ear.”
Jake took a few more shots, emptying the weapon, and finally managed to come close to where he was aiming.
Hank showed Jake how to reload and the next shots were more accurate.
“I got the hang of this,” Jake said.
“Ok, that’s enough for now. Click the safety back in place and reload the magazine,” Hank said, as he turned away.
As Jake reloaded, Hank returned with a shoulder holster and a bulletproof vest. “When you get home, wear a t-shirt, then put the vest on, then your shirt over top and then the holster. It might get a little warm under there, but you’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t expect to get shot at,” Jake said.
“Probably not, but at least you’ll be safe.”
Chapter 14
Wednesday, August 31st, 6:55 PM
JAKE PARKED the Firebird on the side street nearest the north entrance to Richmond Valley Park and stepped out. He felt a little uncomfortable in the vest, especially when he was driving, and the weapon underneath his jacket felt bulky.
And to make matters worse, Hank had insisted Jake wear a wire, so Callaway had fitted him with a small microphone fastened inside the lapel of his jacket.
He reached in the back seat, removed the briefcase he’d picked up from Dr. Gould a few minutes ago, and strode across the road and onto the grass of the expansive park. It was a warm summer evening and all was quiet except for the tweet of a bird somewhere in the trees. A dog barked a distance away and the occasional person, or couple out for an evening stroll, wandered past.
As he crossed the lawn near a hotdog vendor, he glanced at the man behind the counter. Jake recognized the apron-clad merchant as one of the officers he’d seen around the precinct. He suspected the cop had a weapon nearby, probably under his apron. He was busy chopping something up, but from where he worked, he would have a clear view of the bench where Jake was headed.
A lamppost fifty feet away supported the back of a wino, sitting on the grass, wearing tattered clothes and hat, his right hand holding a brown paper bag, his head bowed as if dozing or in a drunken stupor. From that position, the bum would still have
Jake took the weapon and wrapped his hand around it. It felt natural and not too heavy. He snapped the magazine in.
“The first round has to be manually loaded into the chamber,” Hank explained. “To load, pull back this slide and release it. After a round is fired, the spent casing will be ejected and a new round loaded into the chamber.”
Jake fumbled with the pistol a moment, finally got it loaded and aimed at the target.
Hank looked at Jake in amusement. “Make sure you’re in the proper firing stance. Your feet should be shoulder-width apart, with your left foot about a step past the other. Lean forward slightly with your knees bent, keep your head up and make sure you’re balanced.”
Jake did as he was told. It felt a little uncomfortable and not at all natural.
Hank chuckled. “You look like you’re about to start the hundred yard dash. Relax a bit and keep your thumb away from the hammer, or else when it pops back, you can get a nasty bite.”
Jake frowned at Hank, adjusted his stance and relaxed.
“Now, line up the front and rear sights and then take a breath, exhale and pull the trigger at the bottom of your breath cycle. Jerking the trigger abruptly will throw off your aim, so you need to squeeze the trigger.”
Jake aimed for a spot between the sightless eyes of the target and squeezed.
Nothing happened.
“The safety’s on.”
Jake grinned. “I knew that. I was just testing it.” He flicked off the safety and lined up the sights again. This time, when he squeezed the trigger, a shot exploded and echoed off the bare walls behind.
“Not bad,” Hank said. “You only missed the target by eight inches. Try again.”
Jake frowned at the weapon and took another shot.
“That’s better,” Hank said. “You clipped his ear.”
Jake took a few more shots, emptying the weapon, and finally managed to come close to where he was aiming.
Hank showed Jake how to reload and the next shots were more accurate.
“I got the hang of this,” Jake said.
“Ok, that’s enough for now. Click the safety back in place and reload the magazine,” Hank said, as he turned away.
As Jake reloaded, Hank returned with a shoulder holster and a bulletproof vest. “When you get home, wear a t-shirt, then put the vest on, then your shirt over top and then the holster. It might get a little warm under there, but you’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t expect to get shot at,” Jake said.
“Probably not, but at least you’ll be safe.”
Chapter 14
Wednesday, August 31st, 6:55 PM
JAKE PARKED the Firebird on the side street nearest the north entrance to Richmond Valley Park and stepped out. He felt a little uncomfortable in the vest, especially when he was driving, and the weapon underneath his jacket felt bulky.
And to make matters worse, Hank had insisted Jake wear a wire, so Callaway had fitted him with a small microphone fastened inside the lapel of his jacket.
He reached in the back seat, removed the briefcase he’d picked up from Dr. Gould a few minutes ago, and strode across the road and onto the grass of the expansive park. It was a warm summer evening and all was quiet except for the tweet of a bird somewhere in the trees. A dog barked a distance away and the occasional person, or couple out for an evening stroll, wandered past.
As he crossed the lawn near a hotdog vendor, he glanced at the man behind the counter. Jake recognized the apron-clad merchant as one of the officers he’d seen around the precinct. He suspected the cop had a weapon nearby, probably under his apron. He was busy chopping something up, but from where he worked, he would have a clear view of the bench where Jake was headed.
A lamppost fifty feet away supported the back of a wino, sitting on the grass, wearing tattered clothes and hat, his right hand holding a brown paper bag, his head bowed as if dozing or in a drunken stupor. From that position, the bum would still have
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