Page 29 of Jon's Helter Skelter Cold Case

I heard shuffling to my right and ducked in the nick of time. The wooden walls around me gave some cover, but not a lot, and for a man of my size, folding in to fit behind something was a challenge. Also, playing paintball with a former SWAT (Brandon), a former SEAL (Quinn), and a former ranger(Garrett) was challenging enough. Throw in Eli, who kept hiding extra ammo in her fake arm? Eli was going to wipe out all of us.

Aaron and Skylar were camping out in the treehouse above, sniping, which was entirely unfair and would be their downfall eventually. Camping out in paintball was never a good idea. Sho had tried the first round we played, and I noticed this time he kept his feet on the ground and his back to his boyfriend’s.

Honestly, I was surprised we got Sho to play. He was such a computer geek, it was rare for him to do something physically active. He was certainly having a blast. He had dust smeared all over him and one bright red splotch from the first round, which he wore like a badge of honor.

Peeking around the corner, I gauged my next move. We’d split into two teams, changing up from the first round, which meant I had Sho, Garrett, and Booker on my side. Teams were uneven with nine people playing, but that was fine, I didn’t mind. I spotted Sho up ahead; he was also hunkered down behind a wall and peering out. It was strange to see him in something not a hoodie, and his skin looked very pale under the T-shirt. He really had to get out in the sun more.

Okay, this might be a trap, but it looked like people were changing positions. I’d be wise to do the same.

I darted out, intent on getting across the open lane before someone took a shot at me. I nearly missed the timing by a hairsbreadth, for the next thing I knew, I felt a paintball whiz past my ear. Damn, that’d been close.

I made it to the next bunker and looked up, only to see my future niece waving cheerfully, her red hair escaping out from underneath her baseball cap. Oh, I’d get Skylar for that later. For some reason, she saw it as a challenge to get me, when really our target should be the birthday boy.

A gun went off in a quick stutter, followed by a victorious laugh and a groan of dismay.

“I’m out!” Booker called as he abruptly stood, walking toward the edge of the field. He was sans glasses, his taupe skin looking darker than usual with all his recent time out in the sun. “Dammit, Wife. Really?”

Eli cackled some more. She wasn’t even ashamed of herself.

I heard Brandon snickering too and that was about to be his downfall. I’d lost track of him, but now I knew which area he was in. Sounded like he was a little to the left of me, maybe near the fence line.

I did a Russian dance move, squatted down on haunches and extended a leg out, easing my way over while keeping my head down. I did not trust Skylar one bit. For that matter, her father wasn’t much better.

Reaching the end of my bunker, I eased an eyeball around it. I didn’t see Brandon, per se, but I could hear him shuffling around over there. He said something in a quiet rumble, and while I couldn’t pick up words, the voice confirmed it was him.

I lined up my shot and waited for him to make a move.

Wait for it…

Wait…

Seconds that felt like eons passed as sweat trickled down my neck, the sun overhead hot and high. I didn’t let it distract my focus.

Wait…

A hint of a sleeve, then a shoulder, and I pulled the trigger.

In seconds, bright blue paint hit the shoulder squarely and Brandon let out a groan. “Who the hell just shot me?”

I grinned, pulling back before I revealed where I was. Got him! Playing paintball with Brandon wasn’t complete until I’d shot him. It was a brother thing.

Grumbling, he walked off the field.

All right, my life was now complete. Ooh, wait, no. There was birthday cake waiting for us at my parents’ house. I must consume sugar,thenmy life would be complete.

I felt a paintball hit me squarely on my back. Dammit. I growled a few choice words before standing and looking around for who had— “Quinn, really?”

He grinned, did a little waggle of his fingers, then rolled into the tunnel for more coverage. I was amazed that between his stocky build and almost six-foot frame, he managed to fit in there.

Apparently, I had been too complacent after shooting Brandon. That was on me. Sighing, I stood and called, “I’m out!” Then I walked off the field.

“Awww,” Skylar complained. “But I wanted to shoot you.”

“Get in line.” I shot her the bird and she laughed, not at all bothered.

Brandon was outside the fence, leaning against it, cellphone to his ear. He had those long legs of his crossed at the ankle, body weight against the fence, and he’d ditched the helmet at some point, showing his very sweaty, messy black hair. He didn’t look bothered, so odds were it wasn’t a work call.

“Yup,” he said to whomever it was. “We’re almost done with this game. We can wrap it up and head over. About thirty minutes? Okay, see you soon.”

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