* * * *
The end of the third scenario escalated into a total brawl. Grinning happily in the humid night air, Anne dodged a fist and counter-punched. Hers landed. Sweat trickled down her back. Her hair had come loose from the braid and was sticking to her damp face.
The final takedown had turned into a free-for-all. The fugitive—she’d assigned Robert as a punishment—had broken out of the house, along with his violent relatives who were determined not to let the agents take him. The team had surrounded the group in the backyard and moved in.
So. Much. Fun.
The ground was soft, and the filtered moonlight made opponents difficult to see. By tradition, the game used an honor system of light torso hits. If two blows landed, the receiver went down for a ten count.
Ben was amazing.
As Aaron had noted, the guard dog was surprisingly fast. He was also excellent at hand-to-hand. If he wasn’t a black belt in a martial art, she’d eat her pistol. And he was obviously enjoying himself.
Even better, he’d fought beside her, and—rather than going all protective on her ass—he’d grinned as she flattened a bad guy.“Bravo Zulu, Ma’am.”
She swiped an arm over her forehead and stepped back to assess the situation. Only two of the skip’s relatives were still fighting. And the fugitive—
“You’re all dead,” Robert screamed and aimed at Anne with a pistol someone had dropped.
Her weapon was holstered. She heard the ping of a bead hitting cloth—and then multiple pellets hit her in the chest.
Robert, the repugnant rodent, had killed her. He’d also won, since the “death” of anyone stopped the play. The fact was acid in her gut.
“Stand down,” Anne shouted. “Game over.”
As the casualties regained their feet, Anne turned toward her brother. As the backup guy, he was to be standing off to one side, and available to use “lethal force” if needed. “Why aren’t you in position?”
Travis shrugged. “I wanted to fight, so halfway through I traded assignments with Ben.” He glanced at Ben. “Why didn’t you shoot him?”
Ben smiled slightly. “I did. Before he pulled the trigger. He ignored it.”
Anne stiffened. “Seriously?” The rodent had screwed up again? She raised her voice. “Robert, Ben says he shot you before you started shooting.”
“Nah, he didn’t. No one shot me. He must’ve missed.”
She didn’t doubt Ben’s word at all. Anne glanced around at the rest of the players. “Did any of you see?”
No one had.
“There should be two marks on his sternum,” Ben said, an amused glint in his eyes.
Anne studied him. She’d seen him angry once—at a bachelorette party when someone had harassed Rainie. Today? Despite having his word questioned twice, he wasn’t even close to being upset. She turned back to Robert. “Lift up your shirt. Let’s see.”
“You want to look at my cock too, while you’re at it?”
Oh, she’d had enough of that. Anne’s foot impacted said cock—and balls as well—solidly enough to fold the idiot half over…although not nearly enough to have him puking for an hour.
Sometimes she hated showing restraint.
However, he was nicely bent over so she could grab his shirt’s hem and yank the garment up and off.
He remained bent over, hiding his chest.
Still annoyed, she kicked his feet out from under him.
He landed on his back with a solid thud and made a pitiful whining sound.
Laughing under his breath, Travis shined his flashlight on Robert’s pale white chest. Everyone could see two red marks within an inch of each other.
“You were dead already.” Anne stared down at him in disbelief. “That makes twice you’ve cheated and lied.”
He scrambled up. “Those marks were from when I ran into a tree. You’re just trying to make me look bad because I’m better than you are.”
“In your dreams,” she said.
“You won’t lead this team for long, bitch.” After yanking his shirt back on, he scooped up the weapon he’d lost. “I’m out of here.”
His departure didn’t bother her, but two men followed him. He’d created a schism in her team.
“Hey, Anne. I caught the ending. Hell of a finale.” Her brother Harrison strolled across the grass, looking like a GQ model, quite the contrast to the bedraggled, muddy, sweating agents.
He offered Ben his hand. “Nice fighting and shooting. I don’t go out in the field often, but I’d team up with you any day. Harrison Desmarais.”
“Thanks. But I’m not on the crew. Just visiting Anne.” Ben shook his hand. “Ben Haugen.”