Page 42 of High Stakes

“You look…” My voice fades as I take in her attire. She looks sexy as hell and ridiculous all at the same time. The once steele gray gear is now splattered with a rainbow of colored paints.

“I look like a bag of gummy worms exploded when I opened them,” she grumbles, and stuffs her long braid into her helmet.

I chuckle and don my own paint-covered helmet. “I think it’s kind of hilarious.”

“You look like you got trampled by a pack of rabid smurfs,” she counters and points to the smears of blue all over my chest piece. We both erupt into a fit of laughter and it feels good. Her laugh is like a balm to my singed nerves and I can’t imagine my life without her in it now.

“Let’s see if Hayden has been exaggerating your aim,” I challenge, and duck behind a low wall as the timer to the paintball arena buzzes. My legs still give me some trouble, but I’ve regained enough muscle and stamina to play a few rounds of paintball. I peer around the corner and try to catch sight of any movement, but the way the lights dim and the paint starts to glow under the blacklight is trippy.

“What’s the matter, Si?” She calls lightly and I spin around, trying to place the sound of her voice. Everything is echoing and it’s hard to pinpoint where the sound is coming from.

I pull my gun to my chest and lean my back against the wall, waiting for another sound, but nothing comes. “Why did I let you talk me into this?” I shout above the low music. My chest tightens as I’m assaulted by memories of her limp form being dragged away. I pull in a deep breath, trying to will myself to calm down, but my heart keeps hammering away in my chest.

“Come on! This is fun!” She shouts and fires off a few rounds. Paint splatters on the wall right next to my head. Either she’s a fucking fantastic shot, or she’s terrible and missed me completely.

I look over and catch sight of her ducking behind an eight-foot wall of stacked cinder blocks painted red and orange. I crouch down and stalk to one side of the debris while tossing a few pieces of ammo in the other direction. Her helmet jerks around to assess the noise and I take that opportunity to strike.

The barrel of my gun catches her in the back as I pin her front against the wall. Her body stiffens against mine as I crowd closer until our helmets are touching. “Gotcha,” I whisper breathlessly, but I can’t bring myself to step back and splatter her with paint. In fact, I can’t bring myself to separate from her body at all. She’s so small and warm against my chest.

“Do you?” she asks casually, and before I can even blink, she ducks out of my arms, spins on her heel, grabs my right arm and twists it behind my back. The gun falls uselessly to the ground as she forces me against the wall where she was pinned seconds ago.

I should not find this as hot as I do, but my brain and my dick are not on the same page and I feel myself grow hard. “Best two out of three?” I ask with a chuckle as she lets me go and props her gun up against her shoulder.

Her eyes drop to my crotch and she grins. “Next shot wins. Then I get to pin you for real.” Her tone is low and full of devilish promise. I give her a nod and she twirls away before I can grab her again.

I make sure my gun is loaded before I stalk around the corner and take in the black walls and glowing blacklight paint. My eyes scan the room for any movement, but it’s hard to catch sight of anything with the trippy colors. I hear the sounds of a paintball gun firing and I duck behind a large rubber tire protruding from the ground. Slowly, I stand and move around a few obstacles, gun still raised in case she has planned an ambush, and stop in my tracks.

Her gun lays discarded on the floor and wet paint drips down the black wall to my right, glowing neon yellow under the lights.”Very funny,” I chuckle under my breath, and turn in a slow circle, preparing to be pelted by paint. My skin prickles with unease when she doesn’t immediately throw a snarky comment back.

My heart rate kicks into fight or flight mode and a cold sweat breaks out across my skin. I shift my shoulders at the clammy feeling and start searching behind the objects with a little more urgency. “Baby?” I call out and spin in a slow circle. My chest tightens and it feels like someone has sucked all the oxygen from my body.

“Silas!” Emelia’s voice is muffled and far away. I turn sharply, trying to figure out where it’s coming from, but that damn echo makes everything distorted. I see the men in black masks round the corner and push through the emergency exit with Emelia in tow. Her helmet is gone and they’re dragging her out by her hair. She stumbles and pulls against the hand wrapped around her long braid, trying to free it.

“Emelia!” I roar and lunge toward her, panic rising in my chest. In my haste and fear, my muscles seize and cramp sendingme to my knees. No, no, no, no, no. Not again. This literally cannot happen to me twice. My heart shatters into a thousand pieces as I watch the door slam and I’m left feeling helpless and broken. There’s no way I can get to her in time.

“Pity,” a voice says behind me, his accent thick and muffled through his mask. “Thought you ended up at a barbeque.”

I look up and glare at the man standing over me with a pistol, a very real pistol, pointed at my head. “Fuck off,” I bite out and struggle to stand.

“Don’t bother,” he snaps back and lashes his wrist out. The gun cracks against my helmet so hard that it sends me sprawling. My head flops back and collides with a cinder block. I hear the loud crack, but I don’t feel anything. My body is numb. I feel like I’m floating through shadows as darkness pulsates through my vision.

His foot connects with my abdomen first and then the front of my helmet twice more. The loud thumps of his steel toed boots against the helmet sound distorted in my ears. I can hear the blood rushing past my eardrums and I curl into myself as he kicks me again and again.

My heart lurches in my chest as I realize that I’ve lost her again. What an absolute piece of shit I am that I can’t even protect my own girlfriend. Wait, is she my girlfriend? My brain throbs inside my skull and I’m overtaken with a wave of nausea. She feels like so much more than that, and I haven’t even told her. As if to distract me by the utter ass-beating I’m receiving, images of Emelia shift to the forefront of my mind.

“You should have stayed dead,” he says and sucks his teeth, pulling me back to the present. “Looks like I’m going to have to kill you again.”

Anger scorches through my veins as he grabs me by the bottom of my helmet, tilting my chin up to face him. I want to murder every single person that ever came off that fuckingisland across the ocean. Every muscle in my body tenses as he smashes down on the helmet with the butt of his gun again.

My ears ring with the impact and I’m momentarily disoriented as he drops me back to the ground. I land with a dull thud and roll onto my back, trying to breathe through the pain and urge to vomit.

Three shots ring out in quick succession and I brace for the burning pain of bullets piercing my torso, but I feel nothing. Panicked, I open my eyes and move my arms to make sure that I’m not paralyzed and bleeding out.

“Time to get up, lover boy,” Hayden chuckles darkly, and offers me a hand. I blink up at him, still reeling from what just happened. “Come on. We gotta go,” he urges, and pulls me to my feet.

I sway and brace my shoulder against the wall to keep from falling. “How’d you find me?” I ask, and fight to pull the helmet off my head.

He shrugs his shoulders and smirks at me. “Old habits.”

---