“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.