Hillbilly Rockstar (Blacktop Cowboys 6)

“Where’s the last flag?”

Liberty peered around the cement block, making the four flags on her helmet wave in the breeze. “I think that big roadie dude went after it.” She snickered. “He’s too broad a target for even you to miss, McClain.”

“Fuck you very much, Miz Deadeye. Jesus. Were you ever a contender for Top Shot? They dig hot military women on that TV show, especially when they outshoot them macho guys.”

She rolled her eyes. “They’d cream my butt on that show.”

I’d like to cream on your butt.

He had to quit thinking about her ass and focus. “So, we goin’ after him?”

“Yes, sir. On three, keep as low to the ground as you can and shoot on sight.” Liberty shifted into a crouch.

“Shoot him in the back?”

“Always. There are no rules of engagement in paintball like there are in war.” She checked her ammo supply and looked at him. “One. Two . . . Three.”

Devin mimicked her stance, a funky kind of duck walk, until they cleared the last section of hedge.

Then Liberty had her gun up and she’d clicked off three shots in a row at close range.

Pow.

Pow.

Pow.

The big roadie turned around and Devin plugged him in the chest. “Aw, f**k me, man. How many shots do I got on my back?”

“Three. And that’s more than enough for you to hand that flag over,” Liberty said and motioned for Devin to retrieve it.

“No wonder you wanted her on your team,” he complained to Devin.

With victory on his mind—mostly whether he could get away with laying a big kiss on her as they toasted their superior teamwork—Devin forgot to employ the stealth tactics Liberty had drilled into him. He pushed upright and walked forward to snag the flag when he heard a rustling noise beside him.

He froze as Check sidled out of the woods, his gun pointed at Devin’s chest, a maniacal grin on his face.

Everything happened in slow motion as Liberty launched herself in front of Devin, taking all three paintballs meant for him, right in the chest.

As Liberty hit the ground, she shouted, “Devin! Shoot him!”

He raised the muzzle and squeezed off his last four shots. Then Sarge rushed him. Using Liberty’s body as a shield, Devin bent down, retrieved her gun and pumped three paintballs across Sarge’s torso. Then he set the gun aside and rolled Liberty to her back. “Baby, are you okay?”

She raised her eyebrows at his term of endearment but didn’t comment. “I’m fine.”

Devin dragged his finger through the red paint decorating her protective chest plate. “I can’t believe you took a bullet for me. Three bullets.” Although this had been fun and games, the reality was that Liberty would’ve dived into real gunfire to save him.

Risked her life for his.

What kind of crazy person signed on for shit like that?

“Devin.”

Dazed, he looked at her. “What?”

“You can quit putting compression on my chest. I think the danger of me bleeding out is long past.”

That’s when he realized he had one hand in the middle of her chest and the other wrapped around her neck. And he was close enough he could give her mouth-to-mouth if she needed it.

Maybe you need it.

“Seriously, Devin. Let me up.”

He bent closer. “You’ll really put yourself in the line of fire for me.”

“Yes.”

Something changed in that instant. The dividing line between her professional responsibilities to him and his personal feelings for her should’ve widened. Instead, Devin felt them erode completely.

By the panicked look in her eyes, he knew she was fully aware of the shift.

“Devin—”

“Don’t deny you feel it too. There’s no goin’ back for us, Liberty.”

Before she could argue, he stood and offered her a hand up.

Pow, pow, pow rocked him on his feet, and he whirled around.

Boomer shot him one more time in the center of his chest. Then he stopped and pushed up his goggles. “I believe, as last man standing, all those flags belong to me and I win the game.”

Devin laughed. He couldn’t believe that mild-mannered Boomer had outlasted them all. “Yep, buddy, you sure do.”

Liberty rolled to her feet. “What’s next on Devin McClain’s fun agenda?”

“Horseshoes.” He draped his arm over her shoulder as they walked out of the wooded area, and she didn’t try to shrug him off. “Wanna play?”

“Pass.”

“Volleyball?”

“Pass.”

“Mini golf?”

“Double pass.”

He sighed. “You’re shooting down all my fun ideas.”

“Because my idea of fun is shooting stuff. We’ve done that today. I’ve had my quota of fun.”

“So, you’re just goin’ back to the bus?”

“Yep.”

“Will you at least come out of your hidey-hole and eat with us? Roast some marshmallows? Sit by the campfire?”

Liberty stopped and faced him. “Why is it important to you?”

“It’s not for me; it’s for you.” Devin rested his hand on her shoulder and reached up to wipe away splatters of paint from her face. But he succeeded only in smearing it and making it look even more like blood. “Fresh air and a cold beer will do you some good.”