Page 22 of False Flag

Jake had another skirmish on the way to HQ that garnered him another yellow token. Then two teammates—Ian Boyd and SEAL Sam Meyers—escorted him the last two hundred meters. With the last of the three artifacts secured, one of the Raptor employees who officiated the game set off the final firework to signal the game was over.

All combatants gathered at the main base for the postgame results. Seven players had remained in the game to the end, most with paint on their extremities, like Jake.

Two survivors were traffickers—one had managed to squirrel away an artifact, a winged Valkyrie statue that was a foot tall and looked like a badass Barbie. Fittingly, Freya had been the trafficker who liberated the Valkyrie artifact.

Neither of the two survivors from Yellow team—Pax and a SEAL named Dillard—had managed to get their hands on an artifact.

Jake, Ian, and Sam were the three Red team survivors. Sam had rescued the Trident, making Red team the undisputed winner with two artifacts and the most tokens.

There were hoots and hollers as Jake produced two blue and two yellow tokens. He smiled at Anastacia as comments were made about their matching blue markings. She gave a chagrined smile and flushed. She was so bold and vivacious; he’d never guessed she was capable of blushing.

He liked being the cause of those slightly reddened cheeks.

She had nothing to be embarrassed about though. She’d been successful in her own way, distracting him with her naïve, inexperienced act until the moment she kissed him. That about-face had been too abrupt for him to believe.

But damn, how he’d wanted to. And she’d gotten caught up in the kiss too. A win for them both.

She clapped along with the others as Jake was announced the overall winner based on points. He’d rescued an artifact and was the only person who’d taken out two traffickers.

Raptor CEO Keith Hatcher, a former SEAL, had officiated the game. He handed out the prizes for third place to Freya, second place to Sam, and first place—a gold medal stamped with Raptor’s logo, a sharp-beaked falcon with wings spread in flight—to Jake.

“As an added prize for the overall winner, if you so choose, tonight, instead of sleeping in the barracks, you can have the last remaining private cabin.”

Raptor only had three one-bedroom cabins at this training ground, with the choice lodging going to the two soon-to-be married couples: Diana and Chris, and Rand and Kira. Some players and Raptor personnel—those who’d driven here in their own vehicles—would drive home in the wee hours as the party wound down instead of sleeping in the bunkbed cots in the barracks.

“Aww. If you’d told us the winner gets that,” Dillard said, “I’d have tried harder.”

This was met with laughter. As if anyone in military special forces hadn’t been playing for the win. Their very nature made them incapable of dialing back in a competition.

Jake refrained from glancing in Anastacia’s direction as he accepted the key to the cabin.

Chapter Eight

Well, hell. It would be easy to ignore this thing with Jake if he were bunking in the barracks with two dozen other people. A private cabin in the woods, however, invited all sorts of exciting possibilities.

Staci was playing with fire. She’d first lit the match when she decided to kiss him so she could get up close and personal in order to take a stealth shot at his magnificent torso, and now she wanted to dance in the flames.

Maybe she wouldn’t feel this way if he didn’t have dimples. Or if he didn’t say Anastacia like it was his personal incantation for enchanting her.

She could hear him whispering her name now, feel his lips trailing on her skin.

No. She couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Wouldn’t.

She was here to celebrate her friends who were getting married. Diana and Chris both had reasons for not wanting a big wedding. Diana because she’d planned one of those already, but her fiancé died in a car accident just weeks before the ceremony. She couldn’t face the process again without grief overshadowing each decision. Chris had a big wedding with his first wife and didn’t long for a repeat. Instead, a month from now, they would have a small, private ceremony with only a handful of their closest friends and family. This weekend’s games were meant to be their big fun celebration. Playtime with friends—none of whom would be attending the actual ceremony.

Rand and Kira were getting married a month after that, and if Staci accepted the job with Campbell, she might miss the wedding. All the more reason to focus on the couples they were here to celebrate. She needed to push Jake out of her mind and have fun with people she might not see for a while.

Another paintball war was organized, open to everyone who wanted to keep playing. This was a more traditional game, with flags instead of artifacts, and no embedded traitors or spies. Jake was named team captain for the Red team. Rand would captain Yellow.

Staci decided to sit out the round.

A full two dozen players took the field, while those who’d opted out placed halfhearted bets on who would be eliminated early and who would bring honor and glory to their team.

Raptor had cameras throughout the forest, as this was first and foremost a paramilitary training ground. Those not playing could watch the players on a bank of screens in God’s Eye.

Staci decided to watch and entered the room, finding Cal seated alone at the console. When she sat beside him, he flashed a smile, tapped a few buttons on the control panel, and brought up the camera that was fixed on the blind where Staci had lured Jake. She flushed even as she told herself the camera hadn’t captured what had happened inside. Still, Cal’s action made it clear her antics hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Want me to delete the feed from this camera?” Cal asked.