Page 21 of False Flag

“Motherfucker,” Staci grumbled as she felt the jolt of the shot to her padded ribs.

A smile played along Jake’s lips as he studied the splotch of blue paint on her side. “I knew it was too good to be true. But that kiss was worth taking the risk.”

“Hardly.” But silently, she agreed. It had been one helluva kiss. She’d meant to shoot him sooner but hadn’t wanted the moment to end. The way he’d said her name…it was an aphrodisiac. And it had been her undoing.

Jake’s lips brushed hers, and damn if she didn’t open her mouth in invitation for more. She couldn’t fathom why she reacted to him this way. He was the enemy, in the game and in the real world.

“Liar,” he whispered.

Defeated, she let out a soft laugh. “This is my first paintball war. Is this how they usually go?”

“Not so much. But I’m enjoying this one immensely.”

So am I.

His lips trailed along her neck. Small nipping kisses that felt far too good.

The sound of fireworks in the distance announced that another artifact had left the field of play.

Jake raised his head and glanced at the Maltese Falcon. “It’s a shame I’ve got to go win this thing. I’d rather stay here and finish what you started.”

She gathered her wits and pushed at his chest. “Go. Seek glory. End the game. Afterward, we’ll all drink while you share tales of your exploits.” And she would be crushed under the weight of her humiliation.

He moved off her and reached for the statue. “Anastacia, I don’t kiss and tell.”

She scooted out of his way as he pulled on his helmet. On his side was a backsplatter of blue paint. Meanwhile, the large blue blotch on her ribs was enough evidence to line up their bodies. Everyone would know exactly how close they’d been when he shot her with her own gun. “You won’t have to say a word. The paint will do the talking.”

“They can speculate all they want.” He held out his hand. “Your token?”

She gave him his prize. He flipped up the visor and kissed her again. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the fast but deep kiss.

“See you in the winner’s circle.”

Then he was gone, and she was left to gather her weapons and wits.

She shouldn’t have enjoyed that as much as she did. She’d kissed him only because she wanted to get close enough to shoot him.

Uh-huh.

She wanted to shoot him because he was the enemy.

In this game and in life.

Right.

How was she supposed to know he’d be an incredibly good kisser? That one touch of his lips would evaporate her plans and turn her brain to mush?

It was the adrenaline whipped up by the game. She’d never experienced anything like it.

Yeah. That was it.

He’d kept his wits because he was trained for this sort of thing. Hell, as a SEAL, he probably rode that kind of adrenaline all the time.

She was a novice. She needed to build up a tolerance.

Remember who he was, and who she was.

He worshipped Gerard Campbell, and she was the woman who would bring the man down.