Outmatched: A Novel

by Kristen Callihan

  Now we were ready to play. Ten staff members plus their partners had shown up for paintball. The grounds were a forty-minute drive west of Boston, and to say it had been the most awkward forty-minute ride was an understatement. I’d rented an electric car to take me and Rhys to paintball and those babies were so quiet, they only enhanced the silence between me and my fake boyfriend.

  So, I rambled. I rambled the entire way to distract myself from the memory of Rhys’s mouth, from his hands on me, and the delicious feel of his strong body against mine.

  The kiss on our fake date had gotten out of hand.

  Understatement.

  My toes curled in my sneakers at the mere memory.

  Rhys had offered to give me a ride home after we pretended like our kiss hadn’t been explosive and hot and pretty much the best kiss of my life.

  Guilt suffused me.

  It might have been epic for me, but I had to remind myself that it was probably nothing new to Rhys. He’d most likely had a million kisses with similar physical effect. It was a sexual kiss.

  I’d had better romantic kisses.

  I had.

  Struggling to remember a specific one made me feel like hell.

  My only recourse was to forget the night in Rhys’s awesome loft or die of self-flagellation.

  “Let’s do this.” Jackson grinned at us, buzzing with energy. His fiancée, Camille, stood at his side, somehow still glamorous in her army fatigues. She and Jackson had taken dressing appropriately seriously. They both wore a light khaki T-shirt under a matching camouflage shirt and pants, and Camille had tied her shirt in a knot at her waist.

  Except for Pete, who not only wore camouflage but a chest guard too, the rest of us dressed in comfortable green or khaki clothing to help us blend with the woodland. When Rhys and I arrived, we’d changed into our paintball clothes so as not to get paint on the seats of my rental car on our way home.

  Upon advice from my colleague Stuart, I wore layers. Despite the nice weather, I had on yoga pants beneath loose-fitting cargo pants, and a long-sleeved T-shirt beneath a button-down shirt.

  Rhys had come out of the changing rooms in a long-sleeved Henley and cargo pants, the muscles of his biceps flexing with every movement. He stood among my colleagues like Thor surrounded by fans at a comic book convention.

  Our team included me, Rhys, my colleagues Stuart, Michael, Xander, and Ben, plus their respective partners, David, Freda, Laura, and Ben’s friend Nick because his wife was pregnant and couldn’t play. My colleagues and their partners could not have looked more overjoyed to be on Rhys’s team.

  It was hard not to roll my eyes.

  “Walkie-talkies.” Jackson handed me a bag and kept another for himself. “To communicate with your team. And your flag.” Ben took the bright red flag from our boss; Jackson held onto a bright yellow one. “First team to capture the other’s flag wins. We’ll split up. Yellow team goes east, red team west. We’ll both choose a team leader and where to hide the flag.” He grinned cockily. “May the best team win.”

  “Yeah!” Yellow team shouted, following it up with lighthearted ribbing that my teammates responded to. Rhys and I stayed silent, although he smirked in amusement, listening to what must’ve sounded like tame banter compared to the insults he’d exchanged with opponents in the ring.

  “Let’s go,” Rhys instructed our team as the yellow team departed.

  We followed him and took off through the woods to the west side of the compound. The paintball face mask and visor were a little uncomfortable, and the gun was a foreign object in my hands.

  “I vote Rhys as team leader,” Stuart said as we came to a stop. “Any objections?”

  Xander chuckled. “None at all.”

  Rhys assumed the role like it was a foregone conclusion. “Talkies.” He took the bag from me and handed one to each of us. “Everyone know how to use ’em?”

  We all nodded.

  My fake boyfriend suddenly frowned. “These are on a different frequency from the yellow team, right?”

  He was so serious and into this.

  It was not hot.

  Okay, it was mildly warming.

  “Yeah, Jackson plays fair,” Ben assured him.

  Rhys gave a militant nod. “Ben, Nick, you’ll hide our flag and take the nearest position to protect it.”

  Oh, all right, he was more than mildly warming.

  “You radio its location to Xander and Laura, who’ll take up a secondary position as the first line of defense.” He turned to Michael, Freda, Stuart, and David. “You’re our offensive teams. The object is to take out as many of the yellow team as possible, while trying to find that flag. Parker and I are the third offensive team. We’ll take east, middle, and west respectively of the eastern perimeter. If you find the flag, you radio the other two teams for backup. Sound good?”

  I’d been warm in my layers before but now I was hot.

  As an organized, take-charge kind of woman, I really admired that quality in a man.

  “Is this going to hurt?” Freda frowned, biting her lower lip. Genuine anxiety was bright in her eyes, and I wondered why she’d agreed to come if she was afraid to play.

  I was participating because I had no choice.

  Rhys studied Freda and then turned to Laura and Xander. “How would you feel being offense instead of defense?”

  “I’m up for it.” Laura shrugged with a cocky smile. She was tall with an athletic figure and a natural energy that would’ve told me she was into outdoor activities if Xander already hadn’t. Her boyfriend nodded in agreement.

  “Michael and Freda, you’ll be the first line of defense instead. That work?”

  They nodded but Freda still looked concerned. Michael threw his arm around her shoulder and hugged her into his side. “We got this, gorgeous.”

  She smiled gratefully and seemed to relax.

  “Ben, Nick, go hide that flag,” Rhys ordered.

  The guys took off and soon I was hurrying at Rhys’s side on high alert. “I would have to end up with you on the offensive side, Morgan,” I whispered.

  He shot me a look over his shoulder. “I could have put you and Freda on defense, if you’re scared, Tinker Bell.”

  “I am not scared.” My eyes felt huge behind my visor as I searched the woods. “But out of intellectual curiosity … does it hurt?”

  “It stings.” Rhys grinned at me. “Don’t worry, Tink, I got your back.”

  That’s when I realized I wasn’t worried. I, one hundred percent, believed Rhys could kick everybody’s butt and cover mine at the same time. A lurid image filled my mind suddenly and felt my cheeks heat. Dear God, we should have never kissed at his loft.

  “I’d give a million bucks to know what’s behind that blush, sweetheart.”

  Scowling at his cocky grin, I gestured with my paintball gun. “You just concentrate on leading us to victory, Morgan, and if you happen to use up all your paint on Creepy Pete, I won’t be upset.”

  He shook his head, amusement curling the corners of his mouth. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

  We ran from tree to tree for ages before Rhys drew to a halt. He lifted his fist up like they did in the army. A flutter of excitement filled my belly as he crouched down behind a large trunk and signaled me to hide behind him.

  “Clearing ahead with a bunker,” he whispered. “Most obvious place to hide the flag because you can protect it.”

  “Jackson wouldn’t go for obvious.”

  Rhys nodded. “Still, let’s be cautious. It’s a good place to play sniper.”

  Our walkie-talkies crackled, and Ben’s static-filled voice informed us where he’d hid the flag. We scrambled to turn them off, and I cut Rhys a sardonic look. “I’ve found a drawback to the walkie-talkies.”

  Smirking, he peered around the tree, the line of his shoulders tense. It was ridiculous how hot his competitiveness was making me. I’d never thought of myself as a competitive person, but I really wanted to wipe that smug
smile off Creepy Pete’s face by winning with Rhys.

  After a few seconds, Rhys looked over his shoulder at me. “There are two man-made mounds acting as a barrier against possible sniper activity from the bunker, but they’re on opposite sides of the clearing. It makes more sense for us each to take a barrier, but if you want to stick with me, we can do that.”

  I straightened my shoulders. “I am perfectly capable of independent combat.”

  His lips twitched. “You got it, Tink. I’ll take west.” He gestured with two fingers. “You take east. On three …”

  Even though my rational mind knew it was a game, my heart pounded as I launched out from behind the tree and separated from Rhys. Seconds before I reached the guard barrier, a popping noise filled my ears and yellow paint splattered on the ground near my feet. Adrenaline spiking, I lunged behind the barrier and looked across the clearing at 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!”

  So engrossed in their amusing argument, I hadn’t even noticed Rhys moving, let alone leaving the bunker, until he suddenly appeared at Evan’s side and fired his gun toward Annabelle’s voice.

  “Jesus!” Annabelle yelled. “That stings.”

  “Now you’re both out,” Rhys said, chuckling. “Feel like telling me where that flag is?”

  Evan scowled. “Just because we’re out doesn’t mean we don’t want our team to win.”

  “Ugh, I couldn’t care less.” Annabelle appeared in view, her mask off. “I’m heading back to the club for a beer.”

  She’d barely walked out of sight when Evan yelled, “Fuck!”

  Swiveling my head back to him and Rhys, I watched Evan clutch his knee.

  “That’s against the rules.” Evan gritted his teeth, his face red. “What the hell was that?”

  Realizing Rhys had shot him again, I lurched to my feet, about to call him out, when his pissed-off answer stopped me. “That was for gossiping like a little bitch to the dick in payroll about me and my woman.”

  Shock rooted me to the spot, and while I knew I should be annoyed by his macho antics and illegal shooting, I couldn’t help but feel a thrill go through me. Except for Zoe, I couldn’t remember the last time someone had my back.

  If possible, my colleague turned an even darker shade of red. “Okay, I will let that shot go because you’re right. Pete shouldn’t have approached Parker in front of everyone. He embarrassed us both and took what I said out of context. I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  They shared a wary nod, and Evan followed his wife. I felt terrible that Rhys had embarrassed my colleague, but a darker side of me enjoyed my fake boyfriend’s version of justice.

  Coming out of the bunker, I found I didn’t know what to say as our eyes met.

  Turns out I didn’t have time to say anything because a ball of yellow paint flew past my ear.

  Rhys dove and took me to the ground, covering me as he spun around and fired. “Back into the bunker!” he yelled.

  Ignoring the ache in my rump, I shuffled out from under him and lunged for the doorway. When I didn’t hear him behind me, I turned and looked out into the clearing.

  Rhys ran across the field, firing his gun, missing hits aimed at him from the woods near the tree house. He jumped over the man-made barriers as if his body were made of air and set up his position there.

  Scrambling toward the bunker window, I stationed myself as before and saw Creepy Pete and his friend Alan peeking out behind two trees.

  My walkie-talkie crackled. “They could be a second defense team. The flag might be in the fucking tree house. Over.”

&nb
sp; Before I could answer, Xander’s voice crackled down the line. “Where is your position? Over?”

  “About five minutes from where we started on the far northwest side of the yellow team’s perimeter. We’re in a clearing with a bunker and a tree house. We’ve taken out two yellows but there are two more on our left flank. Come up behind them. Take them out. Over.”

  “We’ve taken out a team too. On our way,” Xander said. “Over.”

  There must still be three yellow-team pairs left. We were facing off with one, which meant the other two were probably in our territory looking for our flag.

  “Our guys have worked out where you’re hiding your flag!” Pete yelled from behind a tree about fifty yards from Rhys’s position. “You might as well give up.”

  My walkie crackled. “That Pete? Over.”

  Curling my lip in annoyance, I lifted my walkie. I’d explained to Rhys before the kiss on our fake date that I thought perhaps Pete had it in for me because of my background. Rhys thought Pete sounded like a… well, he referred to him as a dick. He wasn’t wrong. “That’s Creepy Pete. Over.”

  No answer was forthcoming. Instead, Rhys suddenly tore out from behind the barrier and sped toward Pete’s position like a champion sprinter, roaring this deep, terrifying bellow.

  There was a shuffle of noise and curses from the trees, but Rhys’s tactic to scare the shit out of Pete and his friend Alan worked. I ducked my head out the window to see better and caught sight of Pete, now out from behind the trees, gaping at Rhys in shock, while Alan fumbled with his gun. Rhys skidded to a stop, gun up, and fired continuously until both Pete and Alan were covered in red paint.

  Pete looked shell-shocked while Alan cursed in pain.

  I laughed so hard, tears leaked out of my eyes.

  Rhys lifted his gun and strolled casually over to Pete. He smacked him hard against the upper arm, causing Creepy Pete to wince. “No hard feelings, huh?”

  My colleague nodded slowly. “Uh … sure.”

  I pulled my gun back and hurried out of the bunker just as Rhys walked toward me. He grinned and gestured toward the tree house. “Go on up, see if the flag is there.”