Taming Chloe Summers (Grover Beach Team #7) (10 page)

“You have five minutes. I’ll wait outside.” Justin pushes himself off my bed and saunters out into the morning. Dumbfounded, I stare at the closed door.

He can’t be serious. Kicking me out because I don’t like kindergarten games? And what’s with the invading my personal space all the time? Would he come down on Julie the same way if she refused to play with them, or has our past actually earned me a special status with him?

My heart still pounds like a trampling elephant. To risk my freedom over an imbecile game would be stupid. In a week, this whole freak show could be over for me. I’ll be off at midnight of the 31
st
, but until then I’ve got to please the torturer. So yeah, as much as I hate it, Justin wins this time.

Even though every cell in my body objects, I drag myself off the bed and put on a pair of cutoffs with a tight top that leaves a strip of my belly exposed. Sneakers should work well for today.

“I’m ready, let’s go,” I mutter as I pull the door open and walk outside. Not stopping at Justin’s side, I pass him and stalk down the stairs. “Where to?”

After three hesitant seconds, he answers, “Boys’ camp. We need to get you some protection.”

We walk the path silently, and I always try to be one step ahead of him. Outside the dining hall, there’s a giant crowd of excited kids, some of them dressed like Justin, others wearing brighter colors. But one thing stands out when we near them: I’m the only one who came here in shorts.

Are they all insane? Without a doubt, it’ll be over one hundred again today. They’re going to sweat their butts off in those clothes.

“Chloe! Come here!”

At Justin’s call, I turn around and find him slipping into a jacket of the same camo pattern as his pants, only a bit darker. He throws a similar one at me and then fastens a black chest protector around his torso. No longer a soldier, he now looks like a member of a SWAT team. Actually, most people around me do.

“What are you waiting for?” he prompts with a nod at the jacket still clasped in my fist.

“Uh…maybe for winter to arrive?” I suggest. “It’s far too warm for wearing this.”

Fastening the final buckle under his arm to connect the back and front of his protector, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head while blowing out a long breath. Then he comes over. Without a warning, he licks his outstretched index and middle finger, grabs my wrist, and smacks his fingers on my forearm. Hard.

“Oww!” I jerk my arm away from him, rubbing the stinging spot on my skin.

“That’s approximately how much it’ll hurt when a paintball hits you.”

And he wants me to engage in such a brutal game? My mouth goes slack with horror.

“So it’s up to you if you want to wear protection or not.”

Grinding my molars, I stuff my arms through the sleeves and zip the jacket up to my chin. Next, he helps me get my own gear on. It weighs much less than I thought. And with the straps connecting the hard, plastic front-and-back shield, it offers an astounding amount of mobility. That, however, doesn’t make wearing it any less uncomfortable in the burning sun.

“Is everybody ready?” Justin shouts, pressing a mask to my chest as he walks past me. It’s not a complete helmet, only a full-face protector with a tinted visor to shield the eyes and straps to go around the head. If I put this on, I’ll look like fucking Darth Vader.

While all the kids seem happy and excited, anxiety is rapidly spreading in my stomach.

“Greyson and I will hand out a gun, ammo, and a compass to everyone now. Once you’re set, please wait for the rest. We’re all going to hike through the woods together. More instructions will follow once we reach the starting point, two miles north of here.”

When it’s my turn to grab a gun and I sling the strap over my shoulder, I feel as if I'm leaving on a mission to Iraq. My unease is growing.

The cheering crowd of kids gets moving, following the two leaders, Justin and Greyson. Julie is bringing up the rear with me.

“I’m so glad Justin could sway you,” she says with delight, swinging her mask at her side.

She probably wouldn’t say that if she knew about his mean blackmail. And I’m not going to tell her. Instead, I steer the conversation in a different direction. “You ever played this before?”

“No, never. But I desperately hope it doesn’t hurt much.”

Remembering Justin’s flick on my arm, I absently rub the spot under the stiff material of the jacket sleeve and shudder at the pain that’s sure to come during the next few hours. Maybe I should shoot myself right at the beginning, claim that I’m out, and return to the campsite for more sunbathing. That’s my best option anyway. No one can seriously expect me to come out of a shooting game as the winner. So why bother?

As we reach a clearing somewhere deep in the woods, Justin turns around and stops the kids in front of him. To catch what he’s saying, Julie and I step closer.

“This is where we’ll swarm out and start the game. But first you’ll be divided into three teams. Blue, red, and purple.” From Grey’s backpack, he pulls a bundle of bandanas and tosses them randomly into the crowd.

I catch a blue cloth. Julie gets a red one.

“Tie them around your upper arms so whoever sees you knows which team you’re on.” Next, he holds up his own compass. “You also got these. The camp lies straight south of here. Try to get back without being shot. The team with the most survivors wins the game. You can walk alone or in groups, but I advise you to keep your eyes open at all times.” He sucks in a breath, tying a red bandana to his arm, then looks up at Greyson, who’s obviously on team purple. “What do you think? Three minutes?”

“Better make it five.”

Justin nods and addresses the crowd once more. “You’ve got five minutes to form groups within your teams—or not—and run for cover. No shots before those five minutes are over! After that, you’re free to hunt whoever you want.” His sizzling gaze is suddenly on me, igniting a shudder down my bare legs. “Good luck.”

Immediately, the kids break out in wild babble. They try to find their teammates, some already ducking away into the underbrush. Julie leaves me alone and high-fives Justin, following him off the road. Greyson disappears in the other direction with his brother and a few other kids.

It’s only been seconds since this stupid game started, and I’m already left standing alone in the middle of the woods. Jeez! I swallow, feeling nothing short of panic.

“Chloe!” a girl hisses behind me. I spin around and see Addison’s angelic locks gleaming through the thicket. Rachel and Kristina are with her. They frantically wave their hands at me. “Come over here!”

I slide under the bush to join them. Thank God, it wasn’t a trap, and they’re all wearing blue on their arms.
Phew.

We put on our masks, which make breathing really uncomfortable in spite of the slits in the plastic that covers our mouths and noses. Together, we try to get south, avoiding the main path and any places where we hear voices or rustling in the bushes around us.

The five minutes granted to take cover are over way too fast. Soon, the clacking of paintball guns being fired and hysterical girls screaming sound from all sides. It’s just a stupid game, so why do I have the sudden feeling that I’ve been dropped in the middle of a war? Shouts like “They’re over there! Let’s get them, guys!” don’t help a great deal, either.

For almost half an hour, the three girls and I manage to stay unseen in the underbrush, but we’re practically crawling. And we have to cross the open path now if we want to continue southward.

Like frightened rabbits, we lie flat on our stomachs and watch the road. No one’s in sight, and all is silent. But that doesn’t necessarily mean there’s no one there.

“Let’s sneak over one by one,” Addison says.

“Good plan.” I rub the sweat off my neck. “Who’s going first?”

All three girls look at me.

Oh, brilliant. I snort, because I so don’t want to test the waters. But Pixie-cut looks really terrified, even more so than me, and Addison and Kristina would attract too much attention with their blond and auburn hair standing out against the greenery. Looking at it from that angle, I’m probably our best option. All right. I draw in a deep breath, nod at the others, and dart out of hiding.

Surprisingly enough, I make it across the path unharmed. There really seems to be no one around. Hunkering by a tree, I wave at the rest of my group to come over. The last thing I see is Kristina getting ready to dash across the path when a sinister clack to my right is followed by a single paintball smacking the tree half a foot above my head.

Startled out of my skin, I scream, scramble to my feet, and totally abandon ship. The girls have to escape from our attacker on the other side of the road. Finding each other again before we’re shot is more than unlikely, so I race through the dangerous jungle that, up until this morning, was a peaceful place. I don’t even know which direction I’m heading—closer to the camp or farther away from it. But at the moment, I don’t give a flying shit, as long as I get away from my stalker.

Trees thin out in this part of the woods. They barely hide me when I stand behind them. Some thirty feet to my left, a row of bushes lines a clearing, and random, thick oak trees rise above the underbrush. If I can make it over there, it’ll give me more concealment.

Panting, I stop and duck behind a fir tree that is barely my size. With my heart pumping blood so fast through my system, it’s nigh impossible to hear any other sound than my own heartbeat. Did the attacker follow me? Is he close? It’s not far to the line of bushes, so I gather whatever energy is left in my legs and dart forward, jumping over twigs and roots but keeping low.

Clack, clack, clack!
The mad sound of someone’s gun sounds from the right as a volley of paintballs zoom past me, behind and in front. Head ducked, I throw my arms up for cover. In a reckless jump and roll, I slide underneath the first bush and crawl forward on all fours. Twigs brush my head and slap me in the face, but I don’t feel a thing, given that this godawful mask is protecting me.

The gun that’s still strapped across my back snags on a branch and stops me. A whimper escapes as a new surge of panic wells up inside my chest. Looking back, I wrestle with the bush.
Come on, you damn thing. Let go!
At last, the bush releases my weapon, and I move on.

After a few more yards of slithering across the ground, my lungs run out of oxygen and force me to stop to catch my breath. Curled up against a tree trunk, I pull the mask off to suck in a mouthful of fresh air. Boy, so good.

At the same moment, a little distance away from my spot, branches break under someone’s footsteps. “I know you’re here, tiger.” The voice is muffled by the mask he’s wearing, but the sound of Justin’s voice travels in shivers down my skin.

I try to hold my breath, but I’m in too much pain and in need of oxygen to do it for longer than a couple of seconds. The mask slips through my fingers, rolling away from me. Cautiously stretching out one arm, I reach for it, but more rustling in the bushes follows. I freeze.

He’s coming closer.

Quickly, I snatch the mask and pull it against my chest. My hands and legs shake violently, while my heart is still drumming like it’s trying to beckon my pursuer straight to me. Jeez, all the fun in London isn’t worth playing this cat-and-mouse game!

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…”

I wince at Justin’s disturbing sing-song. If I wait here any longer, he’ll find me in a few seconds and shoot me. If I get up and run, he’ll see me and shoot me. If I get my shit together and attack him instead, he’ll see me coming and…shoot me.

What a bunch of awesome options.

Sliding around the tree, I decide to go for possibility number two and crawl away from him with my head ducked low. A little farther ahead, there’s a massive rock almost my height. I sneak behind it and hunker down with my back pressed against the stone, dropping the mask beside me and pulling the gun off my shoulder. Under all these heavy protectors, sweat trickles down the valley between my breasts. Anxiously clutching the weapon to my chest, I sit there rigid and listen.

“Where are you, Summers?”

He sounds like Hannibal Lecter on the hunt for someone to skin. I’m not entirely sure my heart will make it through this nerve-wracking afternoon. Maybe surrender is the best option.

I bite my lip. Then I lift my chin and shout in the direction his voice last came from, “Please, Justin! I don’t want to play this game anymore!”

Silence. Not even the underbrush rustles. Was I mistaken? Maybe he headed off on the wrong track after all. Could it be he didn’t even hear me? I take a few deep breaths and put my gun aside, next to the Darth Vader mask, then I run my hands over my head, skimming the loose strands that escaped my ponytail out of my face.

“Don’t move.”

Shock zooming in waves through my body, I freeze with my hands on my scalp. Not even brave enough to turn my head, I only let my eyes search for Justin. But the few feet in front of me are empty.

Moments later, a rustle gives him away. He appears from the thicket to my left, which is the exact opposite of where I suspected him. How the hell did he move so fast? And so quietly, too?

He’s holding the paintball gun, aiming it at me with his head tilted to follow the shaft of the weapon, his finger on the trigger. “Hands up, Summers.”