by Paul Draker
CHAPTER 65
Clinging to the small ridges and knobs of the bluff’s vertical face with her fingers and the toes of her shoes, Lauren edged around the southern end of the island. A few feet below her heels, whitewater churned against mussel- and starfish-encrusted rocks. She peered around the corner to see the blue flag, in the center of a flat sandstone shelf. Swinging her body around, she dropped onto the shelf and shook her hands to loosen them.
Jordan stood barefoot next to the flag, staring at her with cold eyes. Then she raised a sculpted eyebrow.
All right, bitch. Lauren tilted her head, cracking her neck. It is on.
A small, superior smile appeared on Jordan’s face. She pulled the blue flag out of its base. “Want this?”
She tossed the flag toward Lauren, and it clattered down onto the rock surface between them.
Mocking me. Bands of rope tightened around Lauren’s chest. Like I’m some kind of a joke to her. This was Susan Calloway in the high school locker room all over again. Well, she would break this bitch’s perfect little nose, too.
Springing forward, she scooped up the blue flag and ran for the rock ramp that led up onto the island’s plateau, with Jordan sprinting after her. Gritting her teeth, Lauren spun, swinging the end of the steel flagpole like a baseball bat, aiming for Jordan’s face.
But the flagpole swished through empty air—Jordan wasn’t there anymore. Running three sideways steps up the bluff wall, in seeming defiance of gravity, she launched herself at Lauren from above.
They crashed to the ground with the flagpole trapped between them and rolled apart. Realizing that Jordan had just taken five points from her, Lauren stood up fast, fingers clenched into fists.
On her hands and knees, Jordan looked at her and laughed. Then she pushed off and bounced to her feet.
Lauren threw a punch, and Jordan bobbed back, avoiding it, still laughing. Weaving and feinting, they circled each other, stepping over the flag that lay on the ground between them.
Somebody was going to get hurt bad here, Lauren realized. That was for goddamn sure. She swung at Jordan again, but her heart was no longer in it.
Jordan danced back again, and her eyes narrowed with dislike. She raised her own hands in some kind of a martial-arts stance—karate or some shit. Jordan wasn’t laughing now.
Lauren’s stomach sank. For the first time, she wondered if she would actually be able to beat Jordan.
“Cut that out!” a deep voice shouted behind her. “Right now.”
Jordan’s eyes shifted to look over Lauren’s shoulder. And widened.
Lauren turned around to see Brent stumbling down the sandstone ramp toward them, his large frame supported by Mason on one side and Veronica on the other. Blood streamed from his nose and mouth, covering his chin and staining his collar and fisherman’s vest. “Get away from each other!” he shouted.
Lauren looked at Veronica in shock. “Who hit him?”
Pale eyes like the blue flames of a propane camp stove burned into hers. Angry. Accusing. “Travis.” Veronica practically spat the name.
“Oh Christ.” Lauren ran up the ramp.
Crossing the island toward her own team’s base to tag herself back in, she wondered how something this obviously out of control could end well for anyone.
CHAPTER 66
“I’m all right.” Brent rubbed his sleeve across his lower face, streaking blood on the clean shirt he had changed into. “God damn it, I’m fine.”
Camilla noticed with some alarm that he was massaging his left arm when he thought no one was looking. Oh god, his heart?
“You should take a break,” she said.
Veronica gave her a slight nod, her features taut with concern. She had seen it, too. Leaving Jordan with the flag, they had helped Brent inside and he had gone upstairs to change. Now he sat heavily on the stairs, his jaw already starting to swell.
Although she felt guilty for checking scores, Camilla’s eyes flicked to the monitor on the wall.
Juan’s tag had cost her. If she wanted her foundation to get the money, she would have to start doing better. But the game was turning rough, now. Camilla didn’t want anyone else getting hurt.
“We need an ice pack.” Veronica snapped her fingers at Mason and Camilla. “And you two, don’t just stand there like idiots. Do something.”
“Okay, where’s the first-aid kit?” Camilla asked.
“No.” Veronica waved her away, looking furious. “I’ll take care of him; I’ve got some nursing experience. You two need to go after their flag again.”
“But Julian has to give us a time-out, because Brent got hurt—”
“A time-out?” Veronica said. “Don’t be ridiculous. What are we, playing beach volleyball here?”
“Oh god. Come on, Mason. She’s right.” Camilla headed for the door—the red team would be going after the flag right now, with only Jordan in their way. “Let’s go.”
Brent’s voice, slurred but strong, followed her out the doorway.
“Remember who you are. Don’t stoop to their level. That’s exactly what Julian wants.”
• • •
Once they were both outside, Camilla grabbed Mason’s arm.
“We have to do something about Travis,” she said. “Take him out of play before he hurts someone even worse. Any ideas?”
“Maybe one or two.” Mason reached behind his waist to pull the black cylinder of bear spray from under his suit jacket.
“Oh god. But I think we need to do this.”
He grinned. “It’ll be fun…” A furious scream from the direction of the blue base interrupted him.
“I’m going to kill him!” a woman’s voice shrieked. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”
Camilla stared at Mason in alarm. “That’s Jordan.”
She sprinted toward the top of the ramp, arriving just as Jordan crested the slope, hair soaked, her wet dress plastered to her body.
“That son of a bitch.” She took a deep, shuddering breath, and Camilla was surprised to see she was near tears. “What happened to you guys? You left me alone out here.”
Camilla put a hand on her back to calm her. “Brent was hurt—”
“Bastard netted me with a bunch of kelp to avoid a tag—threw me in the water like a fish he didn’t want.” Sniffling, Jordan rubbed at her forearm. “I landed on rocks.”
“Travis?” Camilla asked.
Jordan shook her head. “Juan.”
“Oh, no.” Camilla pictured his face so close to her own a few minutes ago, seeing his calm, sardonic smile. Her cheeks felt hot. “I’m so sorry.”
Jordan dropped suddenly to sit on the ground near their feet. She swiped an arm across her eyes, then hugged her knees and looked away. “Where were you guys?”
“Did Juan get the flag?” Mason asked.
She didn’t answer, but the sound of cheering from the far side of the island answered for her.
“Why didn’t you call for help?” Camilla asked. “Maybe we could have caught him.”
A stricken look bloomed across Jordan’s face. “Oh my god.” She dropped her face into her arms.
She hadn’t even thought of it, Camilla realized. They were all falling apart here.
• • •
“You hang back a little,” Camilla said to Mason.
Lurking just inside red territory, Travis leered at them from behind the seal barricade fifty yards away. He rubbed at the triangle of beard under his lip.
“I’ll make him chase me,” she said. “You come up behind him and spray him. Then we both run like hell.”
“Don’t be shy!” Travis shouted. He grinned, beckoning her forward. “Bring your fag buddy, too.”
Mason laughed. “That’s our cue. Just don’t let him catch you.”
Camilla sprinted forward, and Travis shifted along the barricade to intercept her. He looked like he would enjoy hurting her. Mason wasn’t kidding.
She feinted to one side, pivoted, and scrabbled up th
e rough round logs, getting splinters in her palms. The heel of her sneaker caught on the top, tumbling her headfirst into red territory, and her face smacked against something wet and rubbery.
Yelping, the seal Camilla had landed on wriggled out from under her as she rolled aside. She scrambled to her feet and took off running, with Travis’s boots clattering on the rocks close behind her.
Slaloming around seals, bird nests, and rocks, she was forced to watch the ground ahead of her skidding feet. This didn’t seem like such a great idea anymore. What if Mason couldn’t catch up with them?
Passing between the cistern dome and the fallen lighthouse tower, she glanced toward the locked warehouse buildings. No one had come out when Travis injured Brent—this was definitely a rough game. But by pepper-spraying Travis in return, were she and Mason about to make things even worse?
And where was Mason? All she could hear was Travis, almost on top of her now.
In the middle of the causeway, Natalie raised her hands, looking uncertain. Dodging around her with pathetic ease, Camilla ran for the red team’s base. Juan was there. He could protect her until Mason caught up. She would be safe with Juan.
Or would she? She pictured Jordan—soaked, hurt, and humiliated—and realized she had made a big mistake.
“You stupid little bitch!” Travis’s yell came from far behind. “Why did you just stand there?”
What? Slowing, Camilla looked back.
Travis had Natalie by the arm. He shook her violently, sending her head whipping back and forth. “You let her run right past you again.”
Camilla skidded to a halt in shock. She didn’t see Mason anywhere.
Travis grabbed the front of Natalie’s sweatshirt with his other hand, bunching it in his fist and lifting her onto her toes. “What use are you? Huh?”
The sweatshirt rode up, exposing the stark whiteness of Natalie’s bare stomach and ribs.
“Let go of her!” Camilla shouted, running toward them.
A loud, ugly crackling sound reached her ears. Travis convulsed suddenly and fell to the ground, releasing Natalie. She squatted next to him, pressing the stun gun against his neck, and the crackling sound came again. Travis’s back arched and his legs jerked, kicking at the rocks. Then he lay still.
Camilla stopped twenty feet away.
Natalie pulled her sweatshirt down, covering herself. Lips trembling, she met Camilla’s eyes. She looked about to cry. Then Mason appeared at Natalie’s side.
Still squatting, Natalie looked up at him. He gently held out a hand, and she touched his palm. Then she scooted backward and stood up.
Why had Mason let Natalie tag him? Rooted in place, Camilla stared in confusion. Events were moving too quickly, leaving her stranded like a traveler lost in a strange country whose customs she no longer understood.
Placing a foot against Travis’s side, Mason shoved, sliding him toward the edge of the oceanside bluff. Travis’s eyelids fluttered, but his arms and legs didn’t move.
Camilla’s eyes widened.
Mason pushed again, sending him tumbling over the edge. Camilla winced, remembering that the drop to the beach was eight or ten feet at least. But after what Travis had done to Brent, to Natalie, she was okay with this.
Lifting the back of his jacket, Mason fished a roll of duct tape from behind his belt. He looked at Camilla and gave her a wide wolf’s grin.
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Take him out of play.
She gave Mason a thumbs-up.
He jumped down after Travis.
CHAPTER 67
“You can think of it as getting benched for unnecessary roughness.”
Someone was jostling Travis’s body, rolling him over and over—sharp grains of sand pressing against his forehead and cheeks, then daylight shining bright orange through closed eyelids, then a faceful of cold, dark sand again… the continuous rip of tape coming off a roll, like an icepick in his ears. Hands lifting his legs. He groaned, every muscle of his body throbbing and tingling with remembered agony.
“I mean, we can’t start behaving like savages, can we?” Hands rolled him onto his back and Mason leaned into view, squatting next to his head. Smiling.
Travis lurched to grab him but managed to rise only a few inches off the sand. His arms didn’t move. Neither did his legs.
Tilting his chin, he looked down his own body and saw a man-size cocoon of silver. Panic jolted through him like another blast from the stun gun. Cocksucker had him wrapped up like a mummy in duct tape: legs together, arms against his sides, wrists behind his back—had to be a couple of rolls’ worth at least.
He sucked in a breath to shout, and gagged as Mason trickled a fistful of sand into his mouth. “Mmmphh.”
“What?” Lifting Travis’s head, Mason pressed duct tape against his lips. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”
Choking, he tried to shake his head loose, but Mason pulled the tape tight, looping it several times around his jaws and the back of his hair. Pasty sand scraped Travis’s gums and trickled into his throat, tasting like mildewed salt packed against his tongue. Something small—a worm or a tiny sand crab—wriggled against the roof of his mouth.
Thrashing helplessly, he sucked air through his flared nostrils. He narrowed his eyes and stared into Mason’s shit-eating grin. “GGGILL OOO, GGAAGGGTHUGGERR!” Kill you, cocksucker.
“We don’t want to end up like the Roman gladiators here,” Mason said. “Still, you’re lucky Camilla gave me a thumbs-up. Thumbs-down, and I might have misunderstood. I might have done this…” He slapped a strip of tape across Travis’s nostrils.
Arching his back, eyes wide with terror, Travis scanned the unbroken line of the bluff top above. Nobody was there. Nobody could see him.
His lungs spasmed. Bright spots danced in his dimming vision.
He was going to die.
Laughing, Mason ripped the tape loose. Travis nearly passed out anyway, unable to suck air through his nose fast enough.
“Hope you don’t catch a cold before your teammates come find you.” Mason pinched Travis’s nostrils shut and looked into his eyes. “But then again, maybe they won’t bother. I don’t think they like you too much.”
Letting go, he stood up and dusted off his hands. “You know, you look kind of sexy there, all wrapped in gray, like a female elephant seal. It’d be funny if one of the big bulls came along and thought so, too, wouldn’t it? I’d give up half the five million just to see that.”
Icy terror gripped Travis, sending a jolt down his arms and legs. He managed to roll onto his side, accidentally snorting sand into his nostrils. Eyes bulging, he blew his nose clear and rolled onto his back again.
“Well, what have we here?” Mason’s voice came from the direction of the bluff, sounding genuinely surprised. Then he was back, smiling down at Travis. “Looks like you’ll be sitting out the rest of the game.”
Lifting Travis’s feet, Mason dragged him into the shadow of the bluff and crammed him through a foot-wide vertical crack in the rocky wall. He tumbled into darkness, thumping his head against rough stone.
A humming sound vibrated through the rocks beneath him. Light from the narrow opening reached a few feet into the cave, illuminating uneven walls of sandstone that stretched into foul-smelling darkness.
Then the light dimmed as Mason’s silhouette filled the entrance, heaving the first rock into place to block the bottom of the opening.
CHAPTER 68
Camilla and Veronica stood at the top of the ramp, staring down at their own base. The blue flag waved, lonely and unattended. Jordan was missing.
“Now, where is she?” Camilla asked, alarmed.
Frowning, Veronica paced along the bluff with impatient strides, staring down at the narrow strip of sand below. Camilla followed her. The strip widened to join the large mainland-side beach, and they scanned the seal-covered expanse of sand. Veronica suddenly laughed her throaty laugh and pointed.
“There.”
Jorda
n sprinted barefoot along the beach, hugging the face of the bluff, weaving between the harems of elephant seals as she headed their way. She held the red flag in her arms, its cloth banner rippling and flapping behind her as she ran. A great bull rose from the sand with a roar to lurch after her, but she was already out of reach.
Racing across the high ground above, JT and Lauren paralleled Jordan below. They pointed and shouted to each other, looking over the edge as they ran. Camilla knew that the steep bluffs hid Jordan from them most of the time. She would be visible only when crossing below ravines or diverting around clumps of seals at the cliff base.
Realizing they would never catch her, Lauren slid to a halt, her features contorted in fury. She grabbed JT’s thick bicep to stop him, too, before they got close enough for Camilla and Veronica to tag them.
Camilla looked down again, seeing Jordan round the corner below. Then she ran toward the ramp, arriving just in time to watch Jordan plant the red flag next to their blue one. Score!
Blue team and red team were now tied, one to one.
Camilla laughed out loud as Jordan waved to her, beaming that dazzling smile. Their team captain had evened up the score single-handedly. But how?
CHAPTER 69
“What the fuck, Juan?”
Lauren jammed her fists onto her hips and stared down at Juan, lying prone at her feet. JT stood beside her, arms crossed, not saying anything. Him she could count on, at least.
Juan groaned. He shoved himself up onto his hands and knees, letting his head hang for a moment. Then he tried to stand but sank back to his knees, one hand pressed against his temple. Blood smeared the side of his face, spreading in a sand-caked trickle from beneath his hairline. He swabbed angrily at it with the tail of his black dress shirt.
With his other hand, he indicated a jagged piece of broken concrete that lay nearby.
“She cold-cocked me with that. How’d she get past all of you? She’s barefoot, for Christ’s sake!”
“Same thing she did yesterday,” Lauren said. “Dropped down to the beach, stayed close to the cliff so we wouldn’t see her. That’s gotta be against the rules—out of bounds or something.”