Chapter 7
“Okay, I’m going to go over the fundamentals.” Carson started to explain how the paint guns worked and where she was allowed to shoot.
They stood on a wooden platform with a cargo net in front of them as cover. Sounds of paintballs and people screaming could be heard on the other side.
It was a far cry from a battlefield, but Carson could feel his adrenaline pumping just the same.
It was a simple game of capture the flag. He and Allie were on the same side, but they had their own competition going. Whoever shot the most people won. He didn’t care about getting the flag. Okay, that was a lie. He was a completive man. He wanted the flag, but he wanted to beat Allie more.
“Got it?”
“I got it.” She nodded, the look of eagerness clear on her face which could still be seen through her helmet and goggles. “Remember the deal. The loser buys lunch.”
“I remember.” A light came into his eyes. His heart started pumping. He was in his element now. Allie didn’t stand a chance. No one was a match for his SEAL training. Carson had this in the bag. “May the best man win.” He held his hand out for her to shake.
“Yes, she will.” She clasped his hand. It was a firm handshake, like they were making a pact. Allie held his hand a moment longer, her eyes boring into his before pulling away.
He didn’t want to think too hard about her lingering touch.
He didn’t know why he was putting so much thought into it.
Carson should be thinking about winning, not how long their hands had touched.
Or the fact she always looked him in the eye.
There was no disgust or horror on her face.
She looked at him as if nothing were wrong with him.
How he’d like to believe that even if it was a lie.
Carson was still in fighting shape, but he knew he was a far cry from the man he used to be.
He couldn’t bench press what he used to because of his arm.
There were a lot of things he couldn’t do the same because of it, but he had learned to adapt, and thanks to Mario, a retired weapons specialist who’d settled here in Vegas, he had made some modifications to weapons to make them lighter for Carson.
Carson pulled back the net, and they could finally see people of all ages running around the course as people shot at others. It looked like so much fun; Carson was tired of waiting.
“Just stay behind me,” he instructed and started making his way out.
No one had seen him yet. Everyone was focused on ground level, not higher up. That was their first mistake.
“Allie, you ready for this?” He called back to her, then spun around when she didn’t answer. She was gone.
Had she been taken? No, it wasn’t that kind of game. She had snuck off. Sneaky woman. Allie thought she was going to get the drop on him. A grin split across his face. She was turning into a worthy opponent.
Carson eased himself down from the platform, which was easier said than done. His right hand couldn’t go above his head, so he had to jump half of it. He could have just used the stairs, but where was the fun in that?
He stayed low as he wound around buildings and shot anyone in his path. He didn’t care if they were on his team or not. He had chosen a bright blue color so he could differentiate his from others. Allie was using yellow.
Carson didn’t concern himself with colors right now. His only objective was to hit as many people as he could and get the flag before Allie.
Carson heard movement behind him. He dropped down to one knee and spun around as someone came out from behind a structure. They aimed at him. He pulled the trigger and hit them in the sternum. He smirked hearing the groan of pain. Well, that person should have been wearing better protection.
Carson spun back around, his eyes scanning for his next target.
He sniped out several others and moved throughout the course, looking for his main target.
Allie. He was determined to win this bet.
Not because he wanted her to pay for lunch.
Even if she won, he still wasn’t going to let her pay. That would be ungentlemanly of him.
It was the competitiveness in him. He wanted to prove, even just to himself, that he was still in fighting shape.
Carson turned a corner, his blood pumping full of adrenaline. This wasn’t the type of battlefield he was used to, but the surge of energy came all the same. There was his target.
Allie was twenty feet ahead of him. He knew it was her with certainty even though he couldn’t see her face because of the goggles and helmet. He knew her shape as she squatted down behind a structure and aimed at someone on a high perch.
They thought they had the advantage up there, and in some ways they did. On the ground though, there were lots of hidey holes for people to sneak up on you. Allie knew that and was using that knowledge to her advantage as she fired off a shot and hit the person square in the chest.
He was impressed by her aim. He couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t get him a little excited. Too bad he was going to have to take her out. He aimed for her back. It wasn’t very sporty, but winning was winning. He was about to pull the trigger when she was on the move again.
Carson followed suit, not wanting to lose her.
He heard movement to his right. He dropped to a knee and took aim but it was too late.
Several shots were fired, and he felt the quick sting of paintballs hitting his armor-covered chest and bare arms. Then he felt it against his back.
He was being attacked on all sides. Adolescents about middle school age popped around structures giggling at him.
Carson was too shocked to react at first. He’d been taken down by kids.
Pre-teens but kids, nonetheless. He was a SEAL, dammit.
Well, ex-SEAL, but still. It was insulting.
He had hundreds of recon and recovery missions under his belt.
Sure, he’d been hit by bullets and other weapons over the years, but never had he been taken down by kids.
A smirking Allie walked up behind the group of three to his right.
She’d removed her helmet and goggles to reveal her unruly red hair and bright, expressive blue eyes.
She held a red flag in her hands. When the kids didn’t attack her, he realized she had conspired with them.
So, not only had she won the game, she had beaten him.
“You cheated,” he accused her, though there was no heat behind his words. He was competitive, sure, but the look of joy on her face was worth a little humiliation.
Allie raised an eyebrow at him. “How did I cheat?”
“You used the kids to do your dirty work.”
“Who you callin’ kid?” one of the kids snarled at him. He held his gun up as if to tell Carson that if he said the wrong thing, he might get shot again.
“Sorry,” Carson said, though he wasn’t sorry. He was still a kid in Carson’s eyes since he was pushing his mid-thirties, and they were obviously still in school.
“When it comes to war, there are no rules. I formed an alliance, that’s true,” she admitted as she handed off the flag to one of the kids and walked toward him.
“That doesn’t make it cheating. We’re all supposed to be on the same side after all, not one against all, Carson.
You’re not going to be a sore loser, are you?
” she asked, holding out a hand. In peace offering or to help him up, Carson wasn’t sure.
No, he wouldn’t. It just galled him that he’d lost, but she’d still won regardless.
“No, I’m not,” he confirmed, taking her proffered hand and rising to his feet.
He looked down at himself. There were so many splatter spots on his chest plate, he could hardly see the black armor underneath.
He took off his goggles to get a better look at the damage the kids had caused.
“You guys annihilated me.” It was six against one, so the odds had been in their favor.
“Dude, what’s wrong with your face?” one of the boys gasped in horror.
Carson dropped his gaze to the ground. All his good humor fled.
“Hey, what’s wrong with your manners?” Allie scolded him. “You should be ashamed of yourself for asking such a question.” The boys look chastened. “Ready for some food? Or have you changed your mind?” Allie asked Carson apprehensively.
“I’m ready,” he assured her. He was ready to leave this place.
She looked down at his chest as he took off his chest plate.
Now that the game was over, there was no point in wearing it.
Carson grimaced feeling the growing bruises along his forearms. “Do we need to stop at your house for a change of clothes?” There were a few splatter spots on his shirt, but the chest plate had prevented worse damage.
Carson shook his head, still not meeting Allie’s gaze.
He didn’t want to see pity in her eyes; it would slay him faster than those kids taking him out.
“No, I have some in my truck.” He hadn’t planned on needing them, but he always kept an extra change of clothes in the back of his truck.
Old habits were hard to kick. Sometimes he’d been called on last-minute missions, so he always kept a bag in case of emergencies.
“You’re not mad at me for recruiting those kids, are you?” she asked softly as they left the course side by side.
“No,” he glanced at her and smiled, giving her more reassurance, “It was pretty ingenious.” If he hadn’t been so focused on winning, he would have thought about doing the same thing.
“Thanks. Though now I’m regretting it after their behavior. Sorry about that.”
“You don’t need to apologize for others.”
“No, I did involve them in our competition. Speaking of, you looked pretty good out there. How long ago did you get out?”
“Three years.”