Читать книгу Tempting the Negotiator - Zana Bell - Страница 11

“OKAY, WE NEED TEAMS. Rob, you can lead one, Jake the other,” Alison said, taking charge as they all gathered around the bins of overalls and helmets at the paintball center.

What the hell she was doing here, Sass wondered, playing games with the people she’d come to fight? They’d all come out together in the van after dropping Jacob off with a babysitter, picking up the boys and then stopping for this Alison woman, who’d checked Sass out as if she were a bug from under some stone.

“I’ll take Moana,” said Jake.

“Oi, you can’t choose my wife like that,” Rob protested.

“Just have. Whatcha going to do about it?”

“Steal Sass,” Rob replied. “All Americans were born knowing how to shoot a gun, right?”

“Does a water pistol count?” she asked.

“Good enough.” He put on a Darth Vader voice. “Come over here to the dark side, my child.”

“And I’ll be on Jake’s team,” Alison said quickly, “to stop him from getting too bossy.”

“That’s not fair,” Brad pointed out. “You’re the two best shots.”

“Well, you’re the third best, so we’ll have you,” Rob said. “Besides, it’s all in the strategy. With Sass’s brain and mine, they stand no chance.”

“Yeah, yeah! Talk is cheap, brother. I’ll take Pete. You can have both twins.”

Moana was busy sorting gear. “Here, Sass, try these on for size.”

She caught the overalls Moana threw to her. They were paint-stained, damp and very grubby. She looked ruefully down at her own clothing before wriggling into them.

“You’ll need this, as well,” Jake said, handing her a helmet. His overalls were likewise grimy, but though baggy on the backside, they were taut across his shoulders. He looked like a raffish action hero.

Sass jammed the helmet down over her French roll. It felt clammy.

“Team photos,” Alison cried, squeezing in next to Jake. “You go over there, Sass, with your team.”

“Yup, let’s get a photo of the team that’s going to win,” Rob said, gathering his band about him and flinging a friendly arm around Sass’s shoulders as the paint-ball owner dutifully took photos on Alison’s camera.

“Not with an aim like yours you won’t,” Jake retorted. “I’ve seen you miss entire trees.”

“Only because they moved. Keep talking it up, little brother, doesn’t bother me.”

Sass couldn’t help smiling at the fraternal rivalry. She was reminded of her own brothers when they’d been young and full of cheek—before everything had gone wrong.

“Are you ready, Sass? Good, then we’ll head out to the battlefield, where we get our weapons.”

With a nod, she began following Rob and the rest of her team down the hill. The sun blazed; the overalls were hot and snagged on bushes as she passed. If she was in New York right now she could be dropping into an art gallery, meeting friends for coffee. Oh, who was she kidding? If she wasn’t at work, she’d be at home, prepping for some case or other, dressed in sweats. For kicks she’d do a half hour on the treadmill and catch a late-night movie on TV.

Here she was hot as hell and desperately trying not to think of the sweaty head that had previously inhabited her helmet. But at the same time she felt a strange stirring in her blood.

It’s only a game, she told herself, but a primitive part of her came to life. Ahead she could see her enemy. Top-ping everyone by several inches, his sun-bleached hair glinting in the light, Jake moved light-footed as an Apache. Alison, small and muscular beside him, talked urgently in a low voice, no doubt planning their attack.

Sass looked about her. The bushy hills and valleys stretched dizzyingly to the horizon in front, and behind the sea glinted in the afternoon sun. She wished she could sit and take it all in. Instead what she was going to get, she was pretty sure, was a running battle with Alison, who for some reason had really taken a dislike to her.

“Looking forward to this?” Brad was at her elbow.

“Sort of,” Sass said. “It’s not really my kinda thing.”

“Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt that much when you get shot—unless it’s on the shin or the ribs,” he added.

“That’s a relief. I’ll stay kneeling, with my elbows tucked in at my sides then.”

Brad grinned, refusing to believe anyone could be that fainthearted, and continued with his advice. “Just shoot at anything that moves. Don’t pause, keep going no matter what.”

“Right.”

“And whatever you do, don’t let Jake get you in his line of fire. He never misses.”

“Gotcha.”

That mildly titillating thrill was replaced with dread. She was a city girl, for chrissakes!

Halfway down the steep hill they came upon a large tent, where both teams were armed, two flags given out and the rules explained. “One fort is in the gully, the other on top of the hill.”

“We’ll take the top of the hill,” Alison declared.

At exactly the same time Jake said, “We’ll take the gully.”

They looked at each other, then she shrugged. “Yeah, okay. We’ll take the gully. We can fight uphill.”

“That’s the spirit,” Rob encouraged.

The teams split up.

“See you in my sights, honey,” Moana called out.

“Always ready to draw your fire,” her husband responded.

Sass wished she had someone she could joke with. Going into battle without a friend in the world, she thought ironically. And a little wistfully.

“Take care, America,” Jake called out. “You may never have been invaded, but there’s always a first.”

“Ain’t seen no threats so far, boy,” she replied in her broadest Southern drawl.

Jake laughed and bounded away down the hillside with the joyousness of the superfit. Alison followed, after eyeballing Sass. The two were honestly looking forward to this.

“Now, Sass, do you want to guard the fort or go capture the flag?” Rob asked.

The devil and the deep blue sea. But not for nothing had one of Sass’s great-great-great-granddaddies been a hero in the Civil War. “I’ll join the invading forces,” she said.

“Thatta girl!” Rob exclaimed. “With those legs, you should be fast.” Quickly, he gave the boys their positions, and was outlining a few tactics when the whistle blew.

“That’s us. Good luck, team.” Rob jumped down a small gully and disappeared into the bush, crouching as he ran. Brad let out a warrior whoop and disappeared on the other side. Somehow Mark and Mike melted into the shadows, and suddenly Sass felt alone, exposed on the sunbaked hillside. She squatted down, feeling also very foolish.

“Dumb game,” she muttered, but nevertheless began making her way down the hillside, dodging from tree to bush in the best Western fashion. The gun was heavy, but also reassuring. Something moved and she shot.

“Not me!” Brad whispered furiously.

“Sorry,” she stage-whispered back. Oh, God, it was beginning to look like a very long afternoon.

The air erupted into stuttering gunfire and there was a frustrated cry.

“Damn, shot already!” Moana said as she emerged from the shadows, hands and gun in the air, making her way back to the tent, where she had to wait three minutes. “Just you wait for tonight, Rob Finlayson. There’ll be no mercy for shooting your beloved wife.”

“Can’t wait.” His disembodied voice floated back.

The leaves around Sass hissed and danced, and she realized someone was shooting at her. She dived, but even as she hit the ground, pain ricocheted up her arm from her elbow, where she’d been hit, and she yelped.

“Yes!” said a woman. Alison. Of course.

The next twenty minutes were hard-fought as paint-balls whizzed in all directions. The enemy seemed to be all around her in the bushes and Sass shot indiscriminately, ducking, weaving and diving across the hillside. The sun blazed down as she sweated under the overalls, her helmet clammier than ever. The visor was claustrophobic and made the world seem vaguely unreal. Her Italian loafers slithered and slipped on the rough ground.

Disorientated, she rounded a small bluff, and instantly everything seemed to grow still. The shots and cries of battle receded and she could even hear a bird in one of the trees. Sighing with relief, she took off the helmet and shook her hair free of the sweaty French roll. The craving for a cigarette, which had begun in the van coming out, was now insistent. She glanced around. There was no one here. Settling her back against a tree, Sass lit up and inhaled deeply as she put the box on the ground beside her. Oh my, but that was good. Sanity seeped back into her bones and she closed her eyes, the sun warm on her lids. Drowsily, she drew on her cigarette. There was nothing—nothing—to equal the joy of a cigarette.

The box beside her bucked and she jumped, staring down in bewilderment. Red paint leaked through the destroyed cardboard cigarette box. With a furious cry, Sass whipped around, to see Jake laughing behind her.

“Thought you’d escape, did you? Told you, smoking isn’t allowed.”

Her peace violated, Sass snatched up her gun and sent a volley of paintballs at her tormentor. There was satisfaction in seeing him dive for the cover of nearby bushes. He gave a small cry, then Sass heard the sickening sound of his body falling, tearing out bushes and breaking branches as he went. Throwing her rifle to one side, she ran to where he had dived. The bushes had screened a small cliff face, not high, but very steep, and Jake lay motionless on a narrow shelf near the bottom. With an exclamation, Sass slithered down, gripping bushes and tufts of grass to slow her descent. How on earth would it look in New York if they discovered she’d managed to eliminate one of their chief protagonists in armed combat?

Once on the ledge, she crouched beside Jake and whipped off his helmet to check his breathing.

His eyes opened. “Are you going to give me the kiss of life?” He sounded breathless, but there was no sign of injury. There was, however, teasing laughter in those green eyes.

“You rat!” Relieved, Sass thumped him hard on his chest, causing him to jackknife. “I was worried, and you played dead on purpose!”

“I didn’t,” he protested. “I was just getting my breath back when you came and ripped off my helmet.”

“Well, I can see you’re fine,” she said, trying to reclaim her dignity in this ridiculous situation. She rose, intending to climb back up to her gun, but her stupid pumps skated on the loose earth and this time it was she who slipped. Jake made a grab for her but it was too late, and they both fell off the ledge, rolling in a tangle down the last part of the slope and landing with a whump at the bottom, Jake plastered on top of her.

For a second both were too taken aback to move, then he pushed himself up on his arms, his weight still pinning her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

She knew she ought to get him off her, but it was as though the scene had been put on pause. Looking into his face, she saw his concern being replaced by something else. The sun behind his head lit his tousled mop like a halo, but there was nothing saintly about the catch in his breath. She felt the thud of her heart, heard the rasping of a cicada close to her left ear. The sun was hot on her shins, but her face was protected by Jake’s shadow. She could smell his sweat and the dust that coated them both. There was also a faint scent from one of the bushes they had crushed.

His weight bore down on her and—no, she was not going to think how wonderful it felt. Slowly his face came down to hers, and she felt his breath on her cheek. She lay absolutely still. It seemed an eternity before his lips reached hers in a soft kiss. Sass closed her eyes and almost dreamily parted her lips. The kiss deepened and the world dissolved around her as his weight, his mouth on hers, invaded all her senses. Then she pushed up, twisting with her hips, and he relaxed, allowing her to roll him so that now she lay on top. Burying her fingers in his hair, she took her turn exploring his mouth, surrendering to glorious, mindless, animal instincts. His hands tightened across her back, and as her hips pressed against his, she became aware of his arousal. Somehow this fact got through to her stupid brain.

This was all wrong.

With a wrench that was almost physically painful she pulled back and slipped sideways off his body. He gave a muffled protest and his hands caught at her, then let her go. She wasn’t sure whether this was out of respect for her wishes or because he, too, was coming to his senses. She was surprised that not knowing bothered her.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” she said.

“No.” He cleared his throat and blinked. The sun must’ve blinded him because he shut his eyes again. “Sorry.”

“It must be the heat or the adrenaline or something. You don’t have to apologize.”

“Not for kissing you. For startling you in the first place.” He smiled, eyes still closed. “Mind you, if I’d known it would provoke such a response, I’d have done it sooner.”

Her heart tripped but she said, “We ought to be getting back to the game.”

“Yeah.” He rolled over and sat up, shaking his head. “Pity we aren’t allowed to take prisoners.” He rose and put out his hand to pull her up, too.

“Why? Who’d be the prisoner, you or me?” Sass asked as she came to her feet, her head not very much lower than his.

“Good question. I’d be happy either way.”

“This doesn’t change anything,” she said. He looked down at her and she looked steadily back at him. “It shouldn’t have happened. I’d appreciate it if you would forget what just took place.” She’d never had her brain say one thing and her treacherous senses something quite different.

He hesitated, eyes narrowed and searching her face. “Would you? Well, if that’s how you want to play it…”

“I don’t mix business with other stuff.”

He nodded. “Other stuff would certainly complicate matters.” His expression and tone had both hardened.

She stuck out her hand as though to bring some professionalism into this absurd moment. “Then we are agreed. This incident never happened.”

“Agreed,” he said, taking her hand. But instead of shaking it, he turned it over to kiss her pulse, which, unforgivably, skipped. “It’s forgotten already.” Swinging his helmet up in one hand and his gun with the other, Jake disappeared into the bush.

Sass was left staring at the trees that had closed about him. Why did she feel desolate? She held her wrist. Had that been a caress or a challenge? One thing she knew for sure, from now on she’d be keeping a close eye on him—and herself.