there, but it was still a possibility. “Watch your step,” he warned the guys.
“Got a live one,” Chris commented. “He looks like he’s preparing to make a run for it,” A.J. followed Chris’s gaze to an enemy crouched behind an oak thirty yards away on the perimeter of Shaw’s property.
A.J. readied his Spyder .68 but halted with a grunt when something pegged him in the arm. Where the hell are you? He backed up and ducked behind the closest tree, weapon still drawn as he eyed his surroundings for a possible hunting tree stand where the opposition may have been perched. “I took one in the arm,” he informed Echo Team.
“Doesn’t count. It’s not a head shot or center mass. Keep moving.” A snap followed Chris’s order. “Got him. You’re clear to pursue.”
“Who’d you nail?” A.J. shifted out from behind the tree and crossed over a pile of rocks.
“Brian,” Chris replied, his tone far too blasé.
“Damn it, Chris, I had dibs on Brian,” A.J. grumbled.
Brian was marrying A.J.’s sister, Ella, on the Fourth of July, and maybe he was looking to instill a little fear into the man first. Brian needed to know what he was signing up for when he joined the Hawkins family.
As far as A.J. was concerned, he was taking it easy on Brian by using paintball guns today. Of course, they weren’t standard-issued models used for recreational games. They were the kind utilized in battle simulation training. Paintball guns were more effective than laser tag when prepping for missions. The physical force of getting struck by a paintball or two was a dose of reality and served to hit home the consequences of a failed real-life op.
As Chris began his approach toward Brian to zip-tie his prisoner, Finn shouted, “It’s a trap!”
Chris dodged the paintball bullet using his lightning-fast reflexes, and in a smooth maneuver, dropped to a knee, spun around, and took the shot. “The enemy team is down to two from what I can tell,” he announced. “Looks like one of them is up on the cabin roof preparing to breach.”
“Old Man Shaw will lose his shit over a hole in that roof, even if the place is already falling apart. Hell, Mrs. Shaw might even make an appearance.” A.J. aimed his weapon toward the opposition, currently doing a little shimmy on the shingles, who also happened to be one of his best friends growing up.
Jesse was the kid who’d encouraged A.J. to sneak into Shaw’s cabin and search for ghosts.
The one to “borrow” A.J.’s dad’s farm tractor and ride into town to spy on the girls at the ice cream parlor at thirteen.
And he was also the kid that jumped in front of another guy who’d been about to punch A.J.’s brother in the face, taking the punch instead.
But today, Jesse was on the enemy’s team, and A.J. had no problem dropping his buddy.
“At least the paint all over the cabin brightens up that shitty-looking place. Maybe Shaw won’t notice a hole in the roof,” Finn said over comms.
“Maybe not, but I bet Mrs. Shaw would fly off the handle. We can give Roman that scientific proof he needs that ghosts are real.” A.J. kept his head low and inched toward the cabin to get a closer shot.
“Since when do you believe in ghosts?” Chris asked.
“We were in a Russian ghost town not too long ago, or have you forgotten?” A.J. reminded him. “You didn’t have to walk through those deserted children’s nurseries like I did. Damn, it was creepy. Seeing little shoes lined up against the wall.” As if on cue, his body sprouted a coating of goose bumps on his arms and right down his legs beneath his cargo pants.
“Yeah, well—”
“A.J.!” Finn hollered, interrupting whatever Roman was about to say, no doubt in protest to their talk of the supernatural.
Shit. A.J. should have known better. Jesse had lured them into a trap. He’d gone on the roof to divert A.J.’s attention. Dangled himself like candy. Jesse used to pull similar moves when they played war games as kids.
A.J.’s older brother Beckett, also on Jesse’s team along with his other brothers Caleb and Shep, had a red dot laser-focused on A.J.’s chest. Beckett took the shot before A.J. had a chance to move or return fire.
The paintball hit A.J. a bit harder than expected, and he stumbled over a gnarly tree root—probably Mrs. Shaw’s doing. He lost his footing and fell backward, the back of his head connecting with something hard. That