Vero spots us before we reach the gates, so he races toward us and launches himself in my direction. He is dressed head to toe in camo, including his face.
“You came, and you look fucking fantastic. I knew the pants would fit. Clay, you owe me twenty dollars.”
“I don’t owe you shit.”
Brawley is waiting near the entrance, his arms crossed, also in full camo. He nods at me. “You ready to get shot?”
“I’m ready to smoke you motherfuckers, if that’s what you’re asking.”
The corner of his mouth twitches slightly, and I grin back. “Game on, Double P,” he drawls.
“Double P?” I ask.
Brawley chuckles. “Yeah, Vero calls you paper-cut princess, but I decided double P sounds better.”
“Double P sounds like she is about to have yours and Vero’s cocks in her at the same time,” Clay snarks.
“Either works for me,” I say with a wink at Brawley.
Ares appears from inside the gates and hands me a paintball gun.
I turn it over in my hands and check the weight, then look up to find all four of them watching me closely. “What?”
“Do you know how to use that?” Ares asks. “Or do I need to show you?”
I lift the paintball gun into position, then look down the scope and find Clay dead center. Vero giggles, but Clay doesn’t move or flinch. He just stares back like he is daring me to do it.
I fire.
The paintball cracks against a tree six inches to the left of his head.
Clay doesn’t even blink, and a slow smile creeps across his face.
“You missed,” he says.
“Did I?”
Vero cackles, doubling over with both hands on his knees. “She missed on purpose, dickhead. Clay you are so screwed.”
“FYI, I never miss,” I say, lowering the gun and looking Clay dead in the eye. “That was a warning shot.”
Ares makes a sound behind me, one I am nearly certain is a laugh, though it’s almost silent. I turn to look at him, and his arms are folded across his chest, head tilted just slightly. He is watching me the way he did previously, like he wants to deconstruct me from the inside out.
Clay’s smile drops and his jaw tightens as I turn the paintball gun over in my hand. Nixie comes out and runs us through the safety briefing—a two-minute head start for me, stay inside the boundary markers, no dead bodies.
“Any questions?”
“Is there anything in there I should know about?” I ask her, because I don’t want any surprise scarecrows taking me out.
“Military props, full tanker, bunkers, watchtowers,” she replies.
“What’s the tanker for?” It seems a little excessive to have a full-sized one in there.
Vero raises his hand. “I may have requested a tanker.”
With a sigh, I check my gun one more time and look at Clay, who is watching me over his bandanna with an unreadable expression. I smile at him sweetly. “Try to keep up.”
“You’ve got two minutes,” he says. “Make them count.”
