Of course, since Cooper had come up with this exercise, there was one small detail that made it harder. Xander and the other squad leader, Mike Taylor, were positioned along the course with paintball guns. If you got hit with a paintball, it wasn’t a big deal, but if your victim took a round instead, that meant you had to go back to the start of the course and do it again. Oh, and there was also the thing that said each werewolf could do anything within the rules to ensure that no one finished in front of them. Of course, there weren’t any rules.
He’d seen several pack mates take a tumble off the course as their teammates tripped them or threw things at them. He’d even caught sight of Brooks nailing Becker in the back of his head with his body dummy and pitching the other werewolf off a twenty-foot-high tower.
Max had to admit he’d been somewhat distracted while running the course. He’d spent the night making love to his soul mate, after all. But he’d still been the fourth werewolf across the finish line, behind Brooks, Cooper, and Khaki. Becker would probably have won since he was too fast to catch in most games, which was why Brooks had beaned him with the dummy. They might have to get an official ruling on the legality of throwing your own victim. Cooper said there weren’t any rules, but it didn’t make sense to use the people you were trying to rescue as a weapon.
Regardless, Max had done well, considering the rest of their teammates were out on the course, and he was sure his victim had never gotten hit with a paintball.
“What are you talking about?” he asked Xander.
Xander pointed at the body dummy Max had used. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
Max looked down, wondering if maybe he’d missed a paint splat on some part of the dummy he hadn’t noticed when he saw that the dummy’s head was missing. Huh. How had that happened?
“You didn’t notice your victim’s head getting caught in the lines on the rope bridge?” Xander demanded. “Or feel that slight bit of resistance as the head got ripped off?”
All Max could do was shrug. “I guess I’m a bit distracted.”
Xander shook his head. “I don’t have to ask what that distraction might be since we can smell your new soul mate all over you. Congratulations.”
Max tried to look properly chagrined but failed. “Do you want me to run through the course again?”
“With a headless dummy? Why bother?” Xander quipped. “Hit the benches with Khaki, Cooper, and Brooks.”
Max left his headless dummy where it was, hoping Gage didn’t make him pay for it, and followed his teammates over to the benches by the volleyball course to watch the rest of the PT session. Kari and Grace were sitting there, watching as the SWAT alphas ran around with their shirts off getting all sweaty and dirty. The two betas didn’t seem to mind the sweat—or the dirt.
“Where’s your son?” Khaki asked Grace as she sat beside the woman.
The younger of the two beta werewolves smiled. “On his way to school. He’s not thrilled about going, but I think it’s important for him to get some structure now that we’re settled. Of course, that means I now have nothing to do all morning but sit out here and watch muscular men run around and glisten.”
Khaki laughed. “You guys want to take part in the PT session? I’m sure Mike and Xander would happily show you how to shoot a paintball gun.”
The two women exchanged looks.
“You don’t think your alphas would mind getting shot at by two betas?” Kari asked, clearly tempted.
“Nah,” Cooper said. “But if you’re worried about it, you could always promise to wipe off any paint splats you manage to land.”
The two women looked at each other again.
“I’m in!” they both said at the same time, hopping off the benches.
“Maybe the guy with the British accent will let me help him clean up even if I don’t hit him,” Grace said as they headed for the SWAT squad leaders. “I’m sure I can get to all those hard-to-reach places for him.”
Kari laughed, even though Max didn’t think the younger beta was kidding.
While Cooper, Khaki, and Brooks watched the rest of the PT session, Max leaned back and zoned out, lost in thought about Lana and the Wallace kids.
He’d driven past the house on Park Lane this morning, even though he knew he was supposed to stay away. But that was hard to do. Fortunately, he hadn’t heard anything coming from inside that made him think there was a problem, but then again, it had only been five thirty in the morning. He’d take a victory where he could get it, he guessed.
He yawned. He was tired, but it was a good tired—the kind that comes from a long night of awesome sex. It had been better than amazing, and if he had any lingering doubts that Lana was The One for him, they were gone now. He was sure Lana felt the same way. After everything they’d talked about and the way she’d responded last night, Max couldn’t deny the obvious. Lana wasn’t simply hiding her nature. She really didn’t know she was a werewolf.
Max hadn’t had the chance to talk to Gage about it yet, but since only a traumatic event could flip the gene that turned a person into a werewolf, he was sure the car wreck Lana had been in was the event that had both changed her and stunted her development as a werewolf at the same time. He’d never heard of a werewolf going into a coma for as long as she had, and his mind whirled at the possibilities. Did she only partially turn because she’d been sixteen years old at the time, or had the drugs they’d given her after the accident somehow inhibited her initial transformation, allowing her to survive the wreck that had killed her friends but preventing her from healing herself as fast as other werewolves did?
“I’m heading in to shower before everyone else finishes,” Khaki announced, interrupting his daydreams as she stood and headed for the admin building.
“I think she did that so you could talk freely,” Cooper said, glancing at Max. “Khaki’s nice that way.”
He must have missed a vital part of the conversation. “Talk freely about what?”
