Brodie got his arrow ready, but Zeke could see he was just going to let it rip in order to get it over with.
“Be patient with yourself. Anchor close to your eye and look straight down the arrow.” He demonstrated as he spoke and waited for the boy to comply. “That’s good. Now take a deep breath. On exhale, release your arrow.”
Brodie did as instructed and his arrow hit the outermost ring of the target.
“Yes!” Brodie pumped his fist in the air.
Zeke clasped a hand around the boy’s shoulder. “Well done. Now do that a dozen more times.”
“A dozen?”
“Maybe a hundred.” He set his bow back in the rack. “Whatever it takes to get good, right?”
Brodie eyed the distance to the target. His back straightened and his grip on his bow firmed.
In that moment, Zeke saw Liv’s rock-hard tenacity in every line of her son’s features.
“Give it a go.”
Brodie loosed two more arrows. Each one hit the target in various places.
When he prepared to let the third one fly, Liv appeared, following Sadie. Her eyes widened at the sight of her son holding a weapon.
Although her motherly instincts no doubt wanted to stop him, her FBI training kicked in and she held her tongue. Instead of startling her son, she fixed a narrowed-eyed stare on Zeke.
Shit.
He must have violated a parental rule or ignored some societal norm about weapons. Zeke’s parents had never denied him or his brothers access to guns, knives, or arrows. As long as they were trained to use them, they could. Any time they were caught horsin’ around with a weapon, it was the last time they touched it.
Brodie’s arrow nipped the edge of the bull’s eye. “Holy cow! Did you see, Zeke?”
“Even better,” he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Your mom and Sadie did, too.”
He looked past Zeke and his grin widened.
Liv produced a smile. “Great job, Brodie. Robin Hood has nothing on you.”
When the boy’s attention shifted to Sadie, a blush heated his ears.
“Do it again,” Sadie said, moving closer but staying at a safe distance.
Brodie looked at Zeke, who gave him a nod.
He backed up a few feet, giving the kids some space. A half a second later, Liv materialized at his side, as he knew she would.
In a low, controlled voice, she said, “Thank you for the text.”
Zeke nodded, keeping his eyes on the kids, and waited for the ass-chewing.
“Next time you communicate my son’s whereabouts, kindly convey more info than—Brodie at the range.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe he’s safe or directions to the damn range or no need to break your neck rushing out of the house.”
“You knew he was with me,” he said. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to your son.”