The Fired Gun

Chapter 2-3

Thump. Thump. Thump-thump, smack, thump. Bang. A pause, mixed with squeaking of metal and leather. Smack. Thump.

The little room at the back of three interconnected buildings that made up Adelaide’s stronghold had exactly one purpose. Strength training. There were free weights, a mat for sparring, and, in the far corner, a punching bag. The latter was currently in use—by a small but determined figure who did not yet realize she wasn’t alone.

Dakota refused to use this room. He saw no need for it. What he couldn’t do with a gun, he could accomplish with talismans. Otherwise, he’d much rather be lazy, recover from all the traveling, and spend time with Kenna. He had no reason to build muscle or learn hand-to-hand combat. He accomplished his job just fine without it.

But apparently, Kenna didn’t see things the same way. Because here she was, attacking that punching bag with everything she had, working herself into exhaustion. Sweating. Fighting, as though her life depended on it.

He couldn’t blame her for wanting to feel strong. Everything she’d been through. All the people who controlled her life. Maybe this was an attempt to take hold of her situation, to feel powerful.

Though he’d crept into the room a few minutes ago, Dakota didn’t have the heart to interrupt her training session. He might have, if someone were pushing her. But Kenna worked completely by herself, and it was possible that no one, other than her dad, even knew where she was. A few more bouts of punching and kicking passed before she let out a sigh and stepped back for a rest.

He clapped, and Kenna gave a startled jump. She turned on one heel to face him. “How long have you been there?!”

“Not very long.” He smiled, crossing the distance. He stopped a few feet away. “I didn’t want to throw you off your rhythm!” Though no one would consider him an expert, Dakota thought her approach looked good.

Breathing heavy, she stared at him for a few moments with weary eyes. “I thought your flight wasn’t coming in until five.”

“It did. That was an hour and a half ago. How long have you been in here?!”

Counting on her fingers, “Umm, six—six hours, off and on.”

Fuck. Dakota had no idea how long people were supposed to train, but it didn’t sound healthy to be working out for that length of time. Especially not without breaks and a lot of water. And now that he stood closer, he could see she was fully drenched in sweat, unsteady on her feet, and bleeding from at least two places on her knuckles.

“Oh, hon,” he began carefully. Picking up one of her hands, he made certain that she saw him inspecting it. “You gotta take better care of yourself. You look like you’re gonna pass out. Have you eaten anything? C’mon.” He motioned toward the door with his head.

“I’m fine,” Kenna mumbled with more than a little annoyance in her voice. “I work out all the time.”

Really? He missed so much of her life because of his damn job. He didn’t get to see what she enjoyed or, more applicably, that she might be struggling. And it certainly seemed like that was the case here. She’d been running herself ragged, working until she could barely stand. That wasn’t healthy. It was dangerous. He made no attempt to hide the concern on his face. He knew she could be having all sorts of emotional problems—and might for the rest of her life—but the least he could do is be there for her, or try to be, whenever they were in the same city.

“Lemme make you some dinner, huh?”

“I need a shower.”

“Well, then it’ll be waiting for you when you get out.” It sounded like she wanted to be alone, but Dakota needed this as much as she did. And anyway, if she didn’t eat something halfway decent, she could easily get sick. Was anyone really looking after her while he was gone? Was anyone noticing her self-destructive behavior?

A frightening thought. She could waste away on his long trips all while Adelaide and her pals did nothing, simply because they didn’t care enough. And could Kenna be trusted to worry about or even love herself? Dakota would have a serious talk with Adel before his next trip. Explain that there really needed to be someone assigned to her care, like Gage had been, or else he couldn’t afford to leave her.

Or there wouldn’t be another mission, he thought. Her safety and wellbeing were a hundred times more important than killing people who misused magic necklaces.

Kenna reluctantly agreed and left to clean up. He headed for the kitchen to prepare a real meal for the two of them. Though he did—sliced leftover steak with small salads and boxed mac n’ cheese—the only thing he could think about was whether or not she would be okay the next time he left.

When they finally sat down to eat, Kenna silently picked through the food with disinterest. Eventually, “When are you gonna start taking me with you on your trips?”

His eyes widened, and he nearly choked on his food. “What?”

“I’ve been training. I know how to use a gun. I know more about this stuff than Gage does. I’d be a better partner.” She put down her fork and sat back in her chair. “So, when are you gonna ditch him and take me with you?”

“I’m not. Period.” Gritting his teeth, “You’re barely thirteen. And I won’t take you to places where you could easily get killed. I won’t do that. Because I care what happens to you. And you can do a whole lot better than what I’m doing. You’re brilliant at your studies. You could be a doctor or an engineer or anything you want. Anything that doesn’t involve killing people, or, more likely, getting yourself killed.”

“None of that will matter when the war happens! I’ll be involved whether you like it or not. Everyone will.”

He gulped. This conversation was going nowhere. He took a different approach. “Look, I know you want to help, hon, and I’d love to be here more if I could. But you’re still really young, and you should try and enjoy it while it lasts, okay? When you’re a little older, we can talk about it. But right now, you should just focus on being you and taking care of yourself. Can you do that for me? I’m worried about you.”

“There’s nothing to worry about.”

He snorted. “No? Nothing at all?” Not his child spending hours and hours at a time, beating a bag to a pulp and f*****g up her hands in the process? Nothing troublesome about that.

“No.”

It didn’t feel great to be lied to, especially when he kept a promise to never deceive her. But she probably had her reasons, and Dakota was in a forgiving mood lately. “Well, I’m gonna worry, anyway. It’s my job. I mean, the job that actually matters. Taking care of you. You’re my responsibility, and if you’re not okay, then I’m not okay.”

“You don’t have to—”

Taking a risk, “I’m your dad. Of course I have to. And I want to.”

Her face changed to surprise, and her mouth dropped open, but she offered up no response. She couldn’t speak at all.

Continuing, “You’re the most important person in my life, Ken. So, I’m gonna worry. And I’m gonna make you dinner. And I’m gonna check up on you whenever I can. And maybe we can look out for each other, too. Make sure we’re taking care of ourselves. Talk to each other, even when maybe neither of us really feels like it. Just ‘cause we need to. How’s that sound?”

Nodding in the way only a child could, she sniffed. “Sounds okay.”

“Good.”