Rhys. He was hunkered low like me behind the man-made mound on his side of the clearing.
“Turn your walkie on!” he yelled.
I fumbled to do so, hearing paint splatter against the barrier near my head. The angle of the shot suggested our attackers weren’t in the bunker. Lowering my belly to the ground, I switched on the walkie. “Rhys, they’re not in the bunker. Over.”
“I know. I missed the tree house behind the bunker. Sneaky bastards. Over.”
Trying not laugh at how seriously he was taking this, I asked, “What now?”
“You run toward the bunker while I cover you. Run to your left but don’t go in. The outer wall will act as a shield and I’ll need you to fire from that left flank position to clear a way for me to get to the bunker. Over.”
Despite my trepidation, I felt a thrill go through me that he trusted me to do that. “Got it. Over.”
“When I start firing, you move. Over.”
“Yes, sir. Over.”
“I’m trying to concentrate here, Tinker Bell. Don’t make this sexy. Over.”
Our eyes met across the clearing and, at his wink, I flipped him off, which only made him laugh. When he slipped his walkie-talkie into his pocket, I did the same and tentatively peered around the barrier to visualize my route to the left of the bunker. Realizing it would be easier to dart out from the opposite end of the barrier, I shuffled backward and let out a little squeal when yellow paint splattered near my hand. Tucking myself back into the guard, I crouched near the opposite end and glanced back toward Rhys. I could just make him out and no more.
“Now!” he yelled, and I lifted my head to watch as red paint balls soared through the air toward the tree house behind the bunker. It was well camouflaged. Red paint splattered against the walls and there was sudden movement as guns disappeared behind windows.
I was clear.
Pushing up off strangely trembling legs, I tore across the clearing toward the bunker as Rhys fired a few more paintballs to keep our attackers down.
As soon as I hid behind the bunker outer wall, he stopped.
I peered up through the trees and saw a flicker of movement as the yellow team prepared to attack again. Not giving them a chance, I aimed my gun and fired.
To my delight, red paint splattered near the window.
Yay! My aim was not too shabby.
Muffled curses filled the air, and I chuckled in devilish delight, taking way more pleasure in firing paintball after paintball at them than I ever thought I would. A touch on my shoulder startled me, and I spun back against the bunker wall to find Rhys crouched beside me, grinning. “You can stop now, Carlos Hathcock.”
“Comparing me to arguably the greatest sniper in history is a compliment, Morgan.”
An eyebrow rose behind his visor. “You got that reference?”
My answering smile was admittedly a little cocky. “I have a rounded catalogue of knowledge in this old noggin—” Rhys cut me off with a finger against my lips, and I tensed with a renewed awareness of him. He smelled earthy and spicy, his green eyes mesmerizing behind his visor.
In fact, I was so aware of him, it took me a second to realize he’d shut me up for a reason.
“They’re coming down the tree house. Bunker.” He grabbed my arm and guided me toward the small opening. Inside the bunker was mostly dark except for pools of light that spilled in from a window on either side of the doorway.
“Take a position.”
I followed his order and his movements, taking the window farthest away and mirroring how he positioned himself with his gun at the ready by the corner. It meant he was out of sight, but he had a clear shot.
Feeling the rush of another spike of adrenaline, my heart raced.
A boot appeared around the edge of the bunker, then a leg, then a torso—
I fired, red paint hitting Evan all over his chest.
“Fuck!”
I grinned evilly. That would serve him right for talking about my private life to Creepy Pete. Karma was a bitch.
Evan turned around and ripped off his facemask. He threw up his hands in despair. “That’s me out.”
“Well, don’t give my position away, you idiot,” a female voice, presumably belonging to his wife Annabelle, snapped from somewhere behind the side of the bunker.
“That’s a nice way to talk to your husband.”
“I told you we should’ve stayed in the tree house!”