“Let’s try it,” Jim said. “See what happens. TL…?”
She glanced at him again before moving her marker up to her shoulder, but he stopped her, adding, “This time don’t stand like a bowling pin.”
As Ashley looked down at her stance, the chatter in the cheap seats continued.
“But doesn’t that—lobbing—increase the likelihood of a hit to a target’s head?” Kenneth asked, sounding worried. But then again,worriedtended to be the kid’s default. “Isn’t that problematic…?”
Jim helped Ashley adjust, his hands back on her shoulders. Again, exactly like he would’ve done with Clark, except… not… “Feet apart, legs spread,” he told her as Bull moaned, “Oh, my God, enough with all of the questions already. No, it’s notproblematic, Queen Mary. It’s part of the game. You catch one on your head or your mask, you wipe it, and you keep going.”
“A little bit more,” Jim told Ashley, using his boot to push her into a wider stance, his leg between hers—don’t think about that, don’t think about that… “Unlock your knees—” he reached down and pushed on the backs of her knees “—lean into it.” She leaned too far forward, so he pulled her back. “Not that much. Just a little.”
“I was thinking more in terms of the marker-er,” Kenneth replied—the conversation going on in the background—the weirdest soundtrack ever, considering Jim’s world had shrunk to these few feet of sandy soil that he was sharing with Ashley, to the quiet sound of her breath, to the accelerated beating of his heart, to the warmth of her body against his. It occurred to him that none of them—all male—saw anything wrong with his casual handling of their Team Leader.
Kenneth kept talking. “The shooter, if you will. Potential penalties. And I prefer Queen Elizabeth, thanks.”
“Find your balance,” Jim told Ashley as he put his hands on the warm softness of her waist. “Use your core.” He slid one hand around to cover her stomach, and she just stood there, letting him touch her. He might’ve touched Clark’s stomach, if the kid had been his volunteer, but he probably would’ve done it with a smack.Definitelynot a linger… “These are the same muscles you use when you run. You’re just using them differently when you’re firing a weapon.”
“A lob’s gonna hurt a lot less than a direct, up-close hit,” Clark told Kenneth.
“Can we get to the target practice?” Bull whined. “Some of us already know this shit.”
Ashley was still aiming her marker too low, so Jim adjusted for her. “Pull the trigger.
She did, and this time she absorbed the kick—and the pellet landed with an explosion of red directly in the center of the target.
Clark and Kenneth both applauded. Bull and Todd were less impressed. “Great. Now just keep a Navy SEAL glued to your ass throughout the entire game. Oh, wait, maybe that won’t be a problem foryou.”
It was only then that Ashley spoke up. “Back off,” she said to Jim, then kinda ruined it by politely adding, “Please…?”
But Jim did as she asked, and she raised her marker again—she’d been paying attention, which was remarkable since their close proximity had damn near fried his working brain cells—and fired.
The pellet hit the target—not quite as dead center as when Jim had been helping, but pretty darn close.
But Bull still scoffed. “Beginner’s,” he said, but before he could utterluck, Jim clapped his hands together and loudly announced, “Masks on, markers loaded! Let’s go, Team One, let’s get you out there!”
CHAPTER TEN
“I’ve got around fifteen minutes before the first official paintball game starts,” Ashley told Colleen, who’d sent her a rather upsetting text.
Sorry to bother you at camp, but there’s been a break-in. Call me when you can.
Thank God—at least—that this urgent problem had nothing to do with one of Ashley’s many clients, nearly all of whom were women seeking both escape and divorce from abusive spouses.
“Please tell me the break-in was at the office,” Ash continued. The law office where she and Colleen worked was in a strip-mall, in a part of town where desperate people often resorted to desperate measures. They’d had break-ins before, and had learned to keep everything of value out and off of their desks, securely locked in a safe.
But Colleen sighed. “Sorry, no, it was your apartment.”
Ofcourseit was. Her immediate neighbors already were chilly toward her for accidentally parking in their “reserved guest spot,” right after moving in. It wasn’t theirs—there was no such thing as a reserved guest parking spot, but… whatever. Ash sighed. “How long did the alarm go off? What time did it go off?”
“Yeah, that’s the big mystery,” Colleen told her. “The alarmdidn’tgo off. When I went over this morning, to bring in your mail and water your plants…? I found the door ajar.”
“Oh, my God, are you okay? You didn’t go inside, did you?” Ashley asked. She looked up to find that her exclamation had brought Lieutenant Slade out of his trailer. But he stopped short, seeing that she was talking on the phone.
“Bobby and Wes were both with me,” Colleen said. “Just by chance. They went in while I called 9-1-1. Whoever was in there was already gone.”
“Oh, thank God,” Ash breathed, opening the screen door and going into her own RV to escape the SEAL’s watchful gaze. She’d intended to get up the nerve to talk to him during this relatively short break. Whatwasthat, that he’d done—all that touching—out on the paintball field just a few hours ago? Was that some kind of Navy SEAL foreplay…? But now that conversation was going to have to wait until after this afternoon’s game, because her freaking apartment had been freaking broken into.
“It doesn’t look like anything was taken,” Colleen reported, “but it’s pretty clear that the place has been tossed—you know, searched…? Drawers got dumped out, and the entire contents of your freezer was in a puddle on the kitchen floor.”
