part of my team but his main objective isn’t about scoring points for our team but rather scoring points with me.
It’s messed up.
He’s blunt, to the point where if it’d been any other man, I’d have kneed him in the balls and been done with his sexually charged courtship.
But this is Jaxson I’m dealing with. And as much as I know I shouldn’t like it, as much as I should know better, I’m beginning to love his filthy, dirty promises.
Thank God Hayden’s allowed me to return home each night. Giving me time to get my panties back on straight and regroup, as well as reinforce the reason I’m actually going through with camp.
Something’s going to come out of all this aside from the promise of three weeks’ worth of fantastic wages, a beat-up and bruised body, and a pile of Jaxson-inspired, wet-crotched undies.
Revenge.
Funny how that used to be the only drum roll of a word spurring me on. Still, it’s what keeps me coming back to Hayden’s Hell. It’s what keeps me from digging too deep into exactly what his plans are for me, aside from spying on Franco and helping take out those murderous Pricks. All this training for that? I feel like I’m entering the Marines instead of trying out for a job as a private security contractor. Still, if things don’t work out, the skills are useful. What every daughter with revenge on her mind should try and master.
Especially today’s evasive maneuvering exercise.
We’ve been split into two teams, the trackers and the dodgers, the latter pretty much being my goal this entire week. To try and not antagonize these hard-core blowhards, my frenemies. Yeah, they just don’t get how tough this toxic bitch can be. I sigh. Better than being dubbed the dumb-ass blond, I tell myself. But this exercise is meant to root out the weak from the strong. We’re flying solo today yet earning—or not earning—team points. Nothing like peer pressure to add another layer of mind fuck to Hell Camp.
This morning, I hurriedly dressed in my lucky T-shirt, a black Pink Floyd classic with the faint outline of a wall on it. The decal reads: did you eat your meat? along with arrows pointing to either yes, you can have your pudding or no, no pudding for you. I’ve paired it with black cropped sweatpants and my old running shoes. A camouflage design would have been better given today’s maneuverings but it’s not like I have time to run out to the local hunters’ watering hole to pick something up.
But as I sprint into the wooded forest and branched out into the southern end of the Ranch, I consider the advice dished out by Hayden’s hired Marine, who spent the better part of the morning lecturing us. His survival tips can be summed up in a nutshell. Blend into your environment. Don’t be predictable. Don’t get caught. My bleeding Tuesday-morning anthem.
Once I’m deep inside the wooded area, I take his advice, stripping off my T-shirt and stashing it in the brush, carefully noting my surroundings as I do so. Can’t risk losing one of my favorites. Fortunately, my bra is a lovely moss green. And thanks to all this time spent outdoors, I’m sporting a farmer’s tan. Great, right? So there’s less white skin to lather mud over.
I pause to listen. Everything is quiet, deceptively so. I warn myself not to get too comfortable, that just because I feel like all those Tuesday morning Prick Patrols have put me on equal ground with the men, it doesn’t mean it’s necessarily true.
The thought of those Pricks has me squaring my shoulders before I resume my fast-paced trek through the woods.
I find the perfect hiding place beneath a fallen tree trunk. It’s hard to tell how much time I’ll have or how long it’ll take the men in the other groups to track down all five of us. Francis and Diego headed off in the opposite direction, though not together—I think Francis is terrified of the hot-tempered Diego. Declan was calmly stalking across the field toward the hill on the far west end of the property, one we’ve all learned to hate during several Iron Man challenges. And the last time I took in an eyeful of Jaxson, he had his hands on his hips—just above that bit of exposed hipbone that has me constantly smacking my lips in delight—and was watching us all skedaddle off like kids at a jelly bean hunt. Acting like this