"The kinda shit you need to shoot." he replied flatly, grabbing her hand and wrapping it around the grip of the gun, making sure she had ahold of it. He wasn't one to push the issue, but he'd seen the grit: if she knew how to handle a gun, she could handle a gun.

And if this shit was torn out of his head, he wasn't leaving her unarmed. They hadn't made it far, him and Sandra, before they took her and that fuckwad, Paine, had his lackey nearly choke him to death...

"Military forces of a puppet dictator, if it ain't me put a bullet in its eye." he went on, eyes cold and hard as he held her gaze. If she tried, she might, perhaps, glimpse a shred of the worry and the fear for her safety buried underneath the venom.

"You got it?"