Page 161 of Scrimmage

He stares at it for a moment before rolling his eyes and wrapping his arm around me.

“You sure?” It’s apprehensive and nervous. It’s kinda fucking cute.

“It’ll probably be fun." I shrug. “Why? Scared?”

He sticks his tongue into his cheek. “Of you? Only a little.” He steps back, and I notice all of the guys standing around waiting.

I grab his shirt and yank him toward me. Several of the guys groan and yank on their hair. “Maybe we should sweeten the deal? Winner gets a prize.”

His mouth hovers over mine, and his hand grips the roof of Alexi’s car. We still haven’t had sex. It has to be killing him. “If you wanted me to make a fool out of you, baby girl, all you needed to do was ask.”

“A fool?” I laugh. “I just wanted to preemptively apologize to you, because you’ll spend the rest of your night eating pussy like your life depends on it.”

“If you think this is the only thing we’re doing tonight then you are sorely mistaken,” he teases me. “And if you think that doesn’t sound like how I would want to spend it anyways, you’re delusional. Fair is fair, though. I look forward to shoving my dick into your throat. I bet your pretty mouth will take it so well.”

“Don’t start going soft on me now, Armory.”

“You won’t be so confident when you’re covered in paint.”

“I live with Penny. Paint is my medium.” I grin, shoving him away before this gets out of hand. “Alexi?” I call out. “Explain the rules so we can go ahead and win.”

After a quick debriefing, the game begins, and our team is huddled in a corner calling plays. I don’t give a shit about their plan. Yeah, you need strategy, but I’m not here to lick my wounds. I’m here to win.

“So, Ashland,” Troy starts to say. “You’ll hang back here.” He points to some part of the map that's far out of the action.

“No,” I command. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Koda, will be here.” I point at an obstacle. “He’s careful, so he’ll send out Barnes first to try to figure out our positions. You cannot, under any circumstances, shoot. Let Barnes be live bait. I’m going to go around here." I gesture. “There will at least be three of them hiding. Alexi, you go here. Two men, most likely. Koda will be waiting in the back. Watching. He knows he’ll be the last man standing. You three.” I point at others. “Go here. Create a diversion. And you two.” I point at the last. “You’ll be cover fire.”

They all blankly stare at me.

“Pretty sure I’m speaking English,” I growl. “If you understand say ‘Yes, ma’am’ if not, I’ll run through it one more time before I get angry.”

“Yes ma’am,” they all murmur in agreement. I signal to the game warden, and he blows the whistle.

Once we begin, we all quietly move hay bale to hay bale. It reminds me of when I was a kid. I only spent one summer with my grandmother before she died, and we were so young that it’s fuzzy. This isn’t the time for nostalgia, though. This is a time to win. We move as a team, each of us getting confirmation before moving on. I hear one of our decoys take a hit and I spring, shooting the three I predicted in the back as they celebrate. I disappear as quickly as I showed up.

I hear another fall, but I don’t know if it’s us or them. I can’t worry about it. I keep moving, sneaking through the obstacles. Damien taught me a lot. This should probably be triggering, but I’m excited. All of those years as the arm’s dealer’s girlfriend is paying off. I never thought I would think that. More shouts and anger erupt throughout the field until I’ve found myself in the back of enemy territory, and Koda is nowhere to be found.

“Well, well, well,” Koda growls in my ear. His scent surrounds me, and it’s dizzying. He hasn’t shot me. Not yet.

“What are you waiting for, Armory?” I taunt him. “Trying to fuck in the hay bales before you win?”

“Just savoring it,” he smirks.

“Odd.” I sigh, turning to him. “That’s what I was going to say.”

I bring the gun up and shoot him in the chest. I’m overwhelmed, possessed, by something that screams at me not to stop. I pull it three more times before the game is called and Koda shoves it away. He doesn’t know. He just thinks I’m emphasizing that he’s lost.

He glares at me, anger and hunger mingling in his eyes. “How'd you know?”

“Know what?”

“What play I would call. You hate football.”

I lean against the bale, crossing my arms. “Was that supposed to be a football thing?”

“Yeah, it’s a team building exercise we do every February.”

“Why did you invite me?”

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