“O.” I hear Latson’s voice. “Don’t forget to show her how to reload.”
I look over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of Latson standing in the kitchen. He holds up what looks like a Nerf gun and gives me a challenging nod.
What is going on?
Oliver and I make it to his bedroom, and he shuts the door. I look around, remembering the action figures and the Minecraft poster. “Okay.” He lets go of my hand and skips over to his bed. “I have almost every gun. I even have the Zombie Strike Crossbow.” He picks it up and shows me. “But it only shoots two darts at a time, so you’ll probably want one of the other ones.”
I look over the arsenal of Nerf weapons laid out on his comforter, then back at him. He’s wearing a black tactical vest over his pajamas. The top half of the vest is filled with individual spongy darts, while the bottom holds two clips full of them.
“What’s our mission?” I ask, playing along.
“We have to take out the other teams. We shoot at everyone else until we win. But, we can’t shoot them in the face.” He looks serious. “That’s Uncle Gunnar’s rule.”
“It’s a good rule.” I pick up one of the guns. “It sounds like you two play this a lot.”
He nods. “When Uncle Dean visits I get to stay up past my bedtime. When I was little we had Nerf wars at the hotels and sometimes on the bus.”
He must mean the band’s tour bus. An image of Latson and Dean chasing a giggling Oliver pops in my head, making me smile. Suddenly, I’m excited to kick some butt. I select the gun closest to me. “How does this one work?”
“Just pull the trigger.” Oliver takes it and demonstrates. The gun whirs as a dart smacks the wall. It travels faster than I expected.
“This one uses batteries,” he explains. “Some of the others are manual.”
“I think I like this one,” I say. “What happens when I’m out of darts?”
“Here’s how you reload.” He shows me the button to eject the clip and then shoves it back in. Then, he grabs another plastic rectangle full of darts and hands it to me. “Put this in your pocket.”
I do as I’m told. Oliver hands me my weapon, picks up one of his own, and walks toward the door. He puts on his game face and turns the knob. “It’s go time.”
I stifle a laugh. This kid is so cute, it’s ridiculous.
As we creep down the hall I realize the apartment is eerily quiet. Everyone must be lying in wait. Are they hiding or will they be in plain view? Can we run anywhere or are certain places off limits? I should have asked my seven-year-old partner these things before we started.
All of a sudden, Oliver drops to the ground and a bunch of darts whiz past my head. I duck and see Carter run from one side of the room to the other. I jump out of the way, pressing my back to the wall, as Oliver fires a couple rounds. What the hell? Where did Carter come from?
Oliver starts doing some sort of belly crawl across the carpet, and I crouch down as we advance. Once we’re out of the hallway and into the living room, I can see where a few people are hiding. Jules’ knee is sticking out from behind the loveseat, while the top of Kenzie’s head is visible behind the breakfast bar. I’m just about to wave Oliver over to our right, when Felix jumps out of the closet by the front door and starts firing. My adrenaline spikes and I shoot a few darts in his direction without aiming. One of them hits him in the arm, while Oliver catches him multiple times in the shin. Felix yells, “Noooo!” as he makes a big show of crumpling to the ground. I realize this is all for Oliver, and I fight a grin. These people are awesome.
Over to our left Dean has jumped up, and he and Jules, along with Pete, are firing at each other and ducking behind the couch and the loveseat. Carter darts out from somewhere and runs into the kitchen; I’m trying to figure out who’s on what team. Or does it matter? Gwen appears from the opposite hallway, shooting first into the kitchen as Carter and Kenzie spring into action, then at us as she skips out of the way. I fire back and hit her in the ass when she turns around. “I told you my butt was too big!” she hollers as she lies on the ground.
Laughing, I advance with Oliver and start shooting randomly at anything that moves. Nerf darts are flying everywhere. Latson makes a show of leaping into the room through the open balcony doors, and he starts firing like Rambo. Oliver aims for him and pulls the trigger, only to find he’s out of ammo.
“Shoot!” he says as he reloads.
I squeeze off a few rounds but miss, discovering that I’m out of ammunition, too. I dodge my way across the room, barely making it to the opposite hall. I eject my empty clip, letting it fall to the floor, and put in the new one. I lean around the corner, prepared to fire, when I’m confronted with Latson a few feet from me.
“Ahhh!” I jump. I didn’t expect him to be so close. I turn tail and run down the hallway, to avoid being shot at close range. Of course Latson chases me and shoots me twice in the back. Holy mother! Those little darts sting!
I turn around and start firing, not caring that I’m supposed to fall down dead. I’m not aiming; I just want to hit him. As he stalks toward me, I nail him in the chest, the stomach, and the thigh before I accidentally shoot him somewhere I shouldn’t. He stops walking and winces, sucking in a breath and biting back a curse.
I freeze. Oh, shit.
I shot him in the balls.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
He stares at me through narrow eyes.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean it.”
His mouth twitches.
“What can I do?”
He chokes out a laugh. “You shouldn’t ask me that question.”
I lower my gun and give him a stern look. “Are you really hurt?”
He stands up straight. “It was a dart, not a sledgehammer.” He starts to walk toward me. “I’d run if I were you.”
Aw, crap. I look around. There’s nowhere to go unless I choose one of the doors in the hall. Even then, I’d still be cornered. I decide to cower against the wall and accept my fate. I slam my eyes shut and flinch. “Just shoot me and get it over with.”
The buzzer from the intercom sounds, interrupting us. I open one eye as I hear Carter verify a delivery man is downstairs bearing take-out.
“Saved by food.” Latson grins. “C’mon. Let’s eat.”
I relax and let out a breath. That was close.
We walk into the living room with our guns by our sides. People are crawling around on the floor picking up darts. I’m just about to help, when Latson turns his wrist and shoots me in the leg.
“Ow!” I yell and jump, shoving his arm. “That’s NOT romantic!”
He leans toward me. “Neither is shooting me in the junk.”
Before I can respond, he brings his hand to the back of my head and plants a quick kiss on my temple. My cheeks flush as a shiver runs down my spine. He leaves me to meet the delivery man, and I glance around. Did anyone see that? It doesn’t appear they did.
“Good job, Jen!” Oliver comes running. He holds up his hand for a high-five. “We won!”
“We did?” I slap his hand.
“Yeah. I was the last man standing.”
I smile. Of course he was.
It’s not long before food is spread out over every kitchen surface. There are Coney dogs with all the fixings, chicken gyro sandwiches, fries, and onion rings, along with a grilled cheese pita for Oliver and a huge antipasto salad. I immediately go for that, since my gallbladder-less self shouldn’t eat the other items in front of my health conscious brother. Despite my taste buds yearning for a gyro, I try to be excited about the lettuce.
“Excellent choice,” Pete says as he stands beside me and heaps salad on to his plate.
“Yeah, yeah.” I roll my eyes.
When Pete moves on, Latson takes his place. “Hey,” he says, trying to be inconspicuous.
“Hey.”
His eyes dart to a paper bag tucked in a corner by the refrigerator. “That’s for you,” he whispers.
I raise a questioning eyebrow.
He nudges my arm with his elbow, indicating I should check it out. I wander over slowly, taking a bite of my salad as I go. When I make it to the bag, I reach in and pull out a small container. I open the Styrofoam and my mouth instantly waters.
It’s a bacon double cheeseburger. He remembered my hospital request before surgery. My gaze jumps to his. Is it wrong I want to hug him for buying me ground beef?