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“Ina O’Shea.” Alec patted my shoulder. “That’s ruthless. I love it.”
The little bit of praise brought a smile to my face.
“Sounds like a solid plan to me, country.” Dante nudged me. “Now we just need to pick the ghost.”
“Bagsy, it’s not me,” I blurted. “I’ll probably cry from the stress.”
The men laughed.
“I’ll do it,” JJ said. “I don’t trust none of you arseholes—and by that, I’m talkin’ to you four, not Ina—to do such an important job.”
I giggled.
“So JJ is the ghost.” I stared at the map. “The rest of us will shadow Dante since he’s the flag keeper. If he goes down, one of us has to take the flag and get to the keep. The others will expect all of you to be near me. They won’t expect us to have a ghost.”
Everyone nodded.
“I’ll watch your six,” Kane said to Dante.
Alec checked his marker. “I’ll cover your three thirty-five.”
Dante looked at Alec and stared.
“Did I say that wrong?” Alec questioned. “Three thirty-five is where I’m at on the clock in relation to your current position, so I figured—”
“I got it.” Dante laughed. “Thanks, man.”
“I’ll cover the three of you while I ghost.” JJ snorted. “One of ye is bound to fuck up.”
“What about me?” I questioned, clutching my marker. “Which part of ye will I cover, Dante?”
All the men looked at me, then at Dante and awaited his answer. He stared at me intently, then proceeded to clear his throat. Twice.
“His eight,” Alec said. “I’m sure he’d love if you’d covered his eight.”
I was trying to figure out which location that meant I should cover, but when the men all chuckled, I wondered if they were teasing me. Dante nudged my chin with his knuckles.
“Just stay close to me,” he said. “We can protect each other.”
I bobbed my head. “I can do that.”
The referee, who was up in the tower that overlooked the whole course, blew his whistle. “Teams,” he shouted. “Take your startin’ positions.”
Damien’s team crossed the course until they were out of sight. I jumped in my spot a couple of times, trying to see over the hay bales, making Alec laugh, and he asked, “What’re you doing?”
“Can ye see them?” I quizzed. “I can’t.”
“Because you’re a leprechaun,” he teased. “We can see them ... until they duck.”
“Me height is a disadvantage.”
“It’s also a very important advantage.” Dante patted my shoulder. “It’ll make ye harder to spot from the others’ point of view.”
That brightened my spirits.
“Teams,” the referee shouted. “Take your positions. Masks down and switch the safety on your marker to off.”
We followed his instructions.
“Remember, you’re only out of the round if you’re hit, and the paintball is broken. Shout ‘out’ as loud as you can so the round can enter pause mode, hold your marker above your head, then retreat to the safety zone. No shots are to be fired from either team until the out player reaches that zone. Are we clear?”
“We’re clear!”
“Are both teams ready?”
“Ready!”
A buzzer sounded, and we were thrust into a game of war just like that. Almost immediately, JJ disappeared out of sight like the ghost he was playing. I stuck to Dante like glue, and he kept looking back every few seconds to make sure I was behind him.
We manoeuvred from barrel stack to wooden wall to hay bale stack. We moved as one and only spoke in whispers. I paused behind a stack of hay bales when I thought I saw a blue mask out of the corner of my eye. We all wore the same black padded uniforms, but our teams had different mask colours. Damien’s team had blue, and ours had copper. When I looked back from where I thought I spotted someone, I realised my team was gone. I sucked in a breath and pressed my body against the hay bale.
My distraction had caused me to lose my team.
“Calm down. Ye’ve got this.”
I jumped when I heard the sound of a marker shooting. I had no idea if it was my team doing the shooting or if they were being shot at. It was exciting and stressful at the same time. I poked my head around the hay bale, then jerked my head back just as quick. I spotted a person on the other team huddled behind a stack of barrels. I lifted my marker, took a few deep breaths, then turned, raised the barrel, and shot at the person twice. I didn’t hang around to see if I hit them. I quickly returned to my position behind the hay bale.
I heard a curse.
“I’m out!” Harley shouted. “Me gun’s above me head. Don’t shoot, fuckers.”
The men jeered him, and Keela hollered some colourful words too that made Alec laugh from somewhere on the course.
“Who picked pink fuckin’ paintballs?” Harley demanded. “Own up!”
“Me!” I squealed with excitement from my hiding spot. “I picked the pink ones!”
