Compromising Kessen (The Vandenbrook #1)(32)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

All three of them paled, and then Christian straightened. “She’s a girl. She couldn’t possibly beat us.”

Duncan didn’t look as confident, though, and Nick looked downright dubious.

“When I get to my box, I will blow the whistle. You may then begin,” Nick announced.

Kessen grumbled to herself but made sure her gun was loaded and offered Christian a little salute. He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

However, Duncan seemed much more concerned, and as soon as they made eye contact, he began frantically checking his gun and adding extra ammo to his pocket, just in case.

Kessen shot him a knowing nod. He gulped and rushed to hide. It was obvious that Nick had let her little secret slip. The thrill of the hunt beat in her chest as she ran in the direction of the trees.

She chose her hiding spot well, ducking between the two tree stumps that sat in the middle of the course. Naturally, both Christian and Duncan took hiding spots on the outskirts of the field. All appearances pointed to her being a sitting duck.

But what Christian was unaware of, Nick already knew—she was a member of the women’s paintball league in Colorado. Not only were they national champions at one point, but they had also beaten another team: Nick’s team of friends not three weeks earlier.

One of the guys even cried.

Kessen remembered giving him a large pat on the back and telling him he couldn’t win them all. Granted, he wasn’t crying from losing, he was crying because she accidently shot him where no man should be shot. But it was his fault for not paying attention. Hopefully, he’ll still be able to have children.

Lying down on the grass, she waited for the whistle. As soon as it sounded, she saw movement from the corner of her eye. Duncan was approaching using stealth-like speed. He was trying to army crawl, but was failing miserably when it came to hiding behind the rocks. He looked petrified, making Kessen wonder if Christian had pressured him into playing. Most players could only shoot their guns with their dominant hand, whereas Kessen could shoot with right or left and have impeccable aim. She laughed as she watched him lift his gun over his own head in warning and scoot closer to the middle.

Quickly Kessen crawled to the opposing rock next to the stump and waited. Her plan was working perfectly. Christian, still out of sight, was most likely watching Duncan to see what to do next. The thing she immediately noticed about Duncan was, he had no game plan; he wasn’t that type of player. He was only focused on the goal, which was to hit her. She hadn’t seen him poke his head up for a while, so she decided to taunt him.

She shot directly off the left side of the rock, aiming for what would be his shooting hand. Unfortunately for Duncan, that was the one time he reached out with his gun to see where she was sitting. The paintball was a direct hit onto his forearm. She heard him curse and bit her lip to keep from laughing.

It offered the distraction she needed to hightail it to the next tree and duck. Off the left side of the field, she saw Christian approaching. Poor Duncan, he was trying to give hand signals. She shook her head and shot again.

“Just give it up, Duncan!” she yelled.

He swore again and threw a nasty glare in her general direction. Nick called over the loudspeaker, “Duncan, you’ve been hit twice. One more time, and you’re out.”

“I can bloody well count!” he called back.

Kessen couldn’t help but laugh. She threw a rock in Duncan’s direction, making him duck without realizing his butt was hanging past the tree. She laughed as she took careful aim and shot her gun, hitting him directly on target. He wouldn’t be able to sit for the next three days.

Wincing in pain and throwing his gun at the tree, he struggled to pull down his pants, revealing designer boxer briefs.

“Son of a—”

“Language!” Kessen yelled from her well-concealed hiding place.

He scowled in the direction of her voice and made an inappropriate hand gesture.

It was just she and Christian, and he was going down.

****

Christian was a lot of things. He was a future duke, for one thing—a great businessman, and some people did call him a womanizer, but that was a long time ago. One thing he had never been called was a pansy; however, at this moment in his life, he truly wanted to run away.

The woman just shot a near stranger in the bum and laughed.

She laughed! He sent up a quick prayer before army-crawling to the giant rock in front of him. Obviously she had no shame. What was she? Some sort of paintball professional? He would never be able to make that good of a shot as far away as he was. How did she do it?

Like he needed to ask. She was a woman of many talents, including the French kissing. And thank you, Nick, for that. The lessons had paid off!

Christian should have given Duncan a hand instead of laughing, but the poor bloke pulled down his pants. The welt was the size of England. It took everything in Christian not to give in to fear. But how could he? Kessen was a woman—how much harm could she do?

Another look at the limping Duncan told him she could do quite a bit more damage than any man could.

Swearing under his breath, Christian stealthily crawled closer to Kessen. She had hidden behind a tree and hadn’t moved in awhile. Not a peep was heard on her side of the field. The sneak attack seemed his best option. Slipping the long way around the bushes to the backside of the tree where she would be hiding, he almost laughed to himself at her apparent careless stupidity. It was almost too easy.

And then it hit him.

It was too easy—that was the point. He had made it clear across the field and behind her hiding place without her knowing. Kessen was too good not to be aware of his movements—it was then he heard a cocking paintball gun behind him.

An interminable string of expletives poured from his lips, which would have made any woman blush. Instead, she shot him.

Three times.

In the back.

He bit his lip so he wouldn’t cry. But who could blame him if he did? After all, she was shooting at point-blank range. What type of man cried after his fiancée shot him with a paintball gun?

In order to cover his impending tears, he glared at her with watery eyes and felt like strangling the woman smugly grinning back. “Who are you?” he accused her through clenched teeth.

She blew the top of her gun as if it were smoking, then answered, “National Paintball Champion 2011, sucker. Oh, and Christian?”

He spun back to face her.

“I suggest you wear a costume for tonight’s entertainments.”

He kicked a rock, sending it sailing through the air, and tried heartily not to wince as he limped back to the tower.