by Niki Burnham
“Nope. No one out there but landscapers and contractors running into Lowe’s.”
My hand grazes Peyton’s back as I spin to face the table and finish my sandwich. She doesn’t look up from her soda, but I’m hyper-aware of how close we’re sitting. Her leg is so close to mine under the table that the hairs on the side of my leg keep brushing her jeans.
“Wanna spend the night at my house tonight?” Josh asks.
Peyton twitches. I feel it more than see it.
“I don’t know—” Now her leg is right against mine.
“We could build the launcher tonight, then I’ll drop you off at the end of Drew’s street early tomorrow morning,” Josh says between bites of his turkey sub. “My mom said she’d let me park in the garage tonight so no one can hit me in the driveway.”
“It’s a weeknight, so I probably shouldn’t.” Would Peyton think it’s strange? I’ve spent the night at Josh’s hundreds of times since we were little, but today feels different. Does Peyton notice what I’m noticing? “Besides, my parents are skeptical of all the time I’ve spent on Senior Assassin, and it hasn’t even started yet.”
“C’mon, Connor.”
My cell phone picks that moment to vibrate in my pocket. Five bucks says it’s Molly. Again.
“You two can argue in the car.” Peyton squashes up her sub wrapper and two-points it into the trash can. “I need to get that lab report done. Let’s go.”
When she leaves the booth, I miss the heat of her leg against mine. It’s annoying, and I blame Josh.
He never should have put the Peyton-as-girlfriend idea into my head. Because now I’m totally lusting after his sister.
Chapter Four | Connor
Two thousand dollars. Two thousand dollars.
Two friggin’ grand.
Well, one grand, once Josh and I split it. But repeating the larger number to myself as I shiver in the tree alongside Drew’s house makes the leg cramping tolerable. I check my watch for what feels like the zillionth time. Five-thirty and still no sign of movement inside the house.
I’ve never considered it before, but being a real-life sniper must suck.
Resting my cheek against the cool, rough bark of the trunk, I survey the grass. I left footprints in the dew as I crossed Drew’s lawn, but now, ninety minutes later, they’ve shrunk until they’re nearly impossible to detect. When I first climbed the tree, I worried the well-defined footprints leading from the woods to the oak would give away my hiding place. I stared at the discolored grass for a long time, wondering if I should climb down and try to brush it over. In the end, I decided that being out in the open posed a greater risk. If Drew didn’t see me fluffing the grass, the neighbors might, and grass-fluffing is highly suspicious behavior in Eastwood, Massachusetts, at 5 a.m.
It’s risky enough that I’m lurking in a tree.
My perch is level with the top of the garage doors, high enough that Drew shouldn’t be able to see me if he scans the yard from the front door or his living room windows before venturing outside, but low enough to make an accurate shot when he approaches his car. His ancient green Hyundai is parked about halfway down the driveway, so he’ll have to pass under me to get to it if he comes from the front of his house or the garage. It’s the perfect spot, as long as the neighbors don’t look my way when they hop in the shower. If I twist to look behind me, I can see straight into their bathroom window. No shade or frosted glass to obscure the view, either.
If the neighbors call the cops, my parents will veto any more early morning stakeouts, if not my participation in the tournament altogether. They’ve warned me since I was a little kid that they never, ever wanted to see my name in the police log. We’re a small enough town that it’s still printed in the local paper; the log’s the first thing everyone reads when their free copy of the Eastwood Chronicle arrives each Thursday. They’re dying to know who was nabbed for DUI, who hosted a loud party past midnight, or—in the most hilarious entry of all—who sang in the shower in such a screechy voice that Eastwood Animal Control received multiple reports of an injured raccoon.
A low clunk comes from inside Drew’s garage. I think. I’ve heard so many chipmunks and squirrels rustling in the woods since I arrived that my mind is starting to play tricks on me. I anchor my feet in the vee of the trunk, then remain motionless, gun aimed down, hoping it really is a human making the noise this time.
The sound of a deadbolt flipping cuts through the morning air. The side door to the garage creaks, then opens. I swallow, my heart beating so hard I can feel it in my throat as I shift the gun to point the muzzle at the door. A blond head pops out, cautiously looking left, then right, to see if anyone’s around. I freeze, finger still on the trigger, as Drew’s mom lets the dog out to pee.
She’s in a thin pink nightgown and from this vantage point, I can see right down the front. She isn’t wearing a bra.
Please, please, don’t look up. If she catches me, I’m going to catch hell. I suspect my mom would rather get a call from the cops than one from Drew’s mom. My mom won’t want to hear my explanation that dozens of my classmates are hiding out in trees and behind bushes all over Eastwood, and that Drew himself is no exception. She won’t care that I had no intention of seeing what I’m seeing. All she’ll know is that I caught Drew’s mom in next-to-nakedness.
The dog snuffles around the azaleas near the side of the garage before lifting its leg. It’s nearly done when its ears prick up and it swivels its wide head, sniffing.
My face heats. Dread sours my gut. I’m so busted.
“Angel! Get in the house. Come on!”
The dog remains still, its gaze riveted on the woods, despite its owner’s begging. A low growl comes from the depths of its chest. I bet it can smell me, or maybe hear me breathing, but can’t figure out where I am.
Drew’s mom tiptoes into the wet grass and grabs the dog by the collar, urges it inside, then slams the side door and clicks the deadbolt. A few seconds later, there’s the thunk of an interior door. The street returns to silence; nothing more can be heard than the trill of early-morning birds and the occasional scuffle of chipmunks. I close my eyes in relief at the near miss, only to scrabble and grab at the bark to keep from falling out of the tree when I lose my balance.
I take a deep breath, then anchor my feet to prevent another dumbass slip.
Yep, I’d be in a world of hurt if I ever needed to make a living as an Army sniper. How would I ever explain to a burly sergeant with a shaved head that a lady in a pink nightgown and her Angel dog made me fall out of the tree and miss my target? It’d be difficult enough to explain to Josh, who’s neither burly nor combat-trained.
On the upside, hopefully the doggie distraction means people are finally moving inside Drew’s house.
Twenty minutes later, I detect the snick of a door opening, followed by the sound of footsteps, slow and cautious, against the wooden boards of the rear deck. Wily jerk. He’s gotta be worried about being attacked from this side of the house, because it sounds like he’s going the long way around to make an approach to his car.
Inch by inch, I stretch forward so I’m lying flat on the limb, my water rifle aimed so the driver’s door is dead center in my sight. I breathe in, breathe out, then breathe in and hold it, concentrating on keeping my entire body perfectly still so Drew doesn’t see me until it’s too late.
My back pocket vibrates.
I grit my teeth and ignore the phone, thankful the sound is obscured by the hum of a passing Volvo as Drew comes into view at the far front corner of his house. He’s moving warily, first ensuring that the Volvo belongs to a neighbor heading to work, then studying the bushes and trees in front of him as he walks, clearly anticipating a hit. He’s also armed for one of his own. His backpack is secured over both his shoulders, rather than worn in the one-shouldered, casual way most of us usually lug our gear, and he’s carrying a bucket filled with water balloons in his right hand. The bucket’s so full that his upper body tilts to the left
to compensate for the weight.
Whoever Drew’s target is, they’re going to owe me a load of thanks for taking him out before he can nail them with those balloons. The person on the receiving end of that bucket would show up to first period sopping wet.
Drew’s pace increases as he crosses the lawn. When he reaches the driveway, he fumbles in his pocket for the clicker to unlock his car, then double-beeps it as he approaches the driver’s side door.
A slow grin spreads across my face as he moves into the dead center of my gun sight, then sets down his bucket to shrug off his backpack. I put my index finger to the trigger at the same time a voice below me hisses, “Connor! Connor! Get down! Hurry!”
Chapter Five | Peyton
“Now!” I say it louder this time, hoping Connor will freakin’ move.
He’s going to kill me for blowing his cover, but what choice do I have? Bracing against the trunk of the tree, I jump as high as I can and smack him in the ankle to get his attention since calling up to him isn’t working.
“What the—” Finally, his focus shifts from Drew to me. Twin furrows appear between his brows as he stares down. “Peyton?”
“They’re coming for you right now. You’ve gotta get out of the tree!” I point toward the woods, where the Delano twins are racing toward us, jumping over rocks and ducking around low-hanging branches. They’re less than fifty yards away now, yelling at each other to hurry. Each of them is carrying a megasize water gun and their eyes are locked on Connor.
In front of us, Drew mutters an expletive as he struggles to untangle himself from his backpack and open the door of his car. His gaze darts from Connor, to me, to a large bucket set in front of his feet alongside the rear door of his car.
“Move so I don’t hit you,” Connor grinds out.
I take a couple steps back as Connor wraps his arm around a wide branch, then half-swings, half-jumps down from the tree, the impact collapsing his knees and sending him into the damp grass with his water rifle clutched in front of him. I race forward and grab his elbow, yanking him to his feet.
“Peyton, stop—”
“Come on. I’m parked two houses down.” We can’t be shot once we’re in my car, but I don’t know if we’re going to be fast enough to outrun the Delano twins. Or their massive water guns.
Connor doesn’t move. Instead, he raises his own gun and shoots at Drew just as Drew’s pulling open his driver’s side door. The spray hits the door and side mirror, missing Drew entirely.
“Crap!” Connor yells as Drew slides into his car with his backpack still hooked on one shoulder, then pulls the door shut behind him. “That was my chance! Now he knows who’s after him.”
“So do you, you idiot!” I wrap my fingers around Connor’s wrist and pull him toward my car. “Run!”
He pulls his gaze away from Drew—who’s laughing like a maniac as he watches us from the safety of his vehicle—to see Joe and Jimmy Delano behind us, approaching fast. “Double crap. Run!”
My hand falls from Connor’s wrist as we sprint toward my car. A stream of water flies between us to spray my windshield at the same time another hits the grass to the right of me.
“Is it unlocked?”
“Yes! Go!”
Connor doesn’t argue. He races ahead of me, then flings himself in the passenger side of my car and pulls the door shut.
I slow to a walk once I see he’s safe, since the Delanos aren’t allowed to shoot a non-combatant, then walk around to climb in the driver’s seat, trying hard not to visibly gasp for air. Even if Connor is my brother’s friend and I’ve seen him practically every day of my life, I don’t want him to know that sprinting a few hundred yards is enough to leave me wiped.
There’s a reason I never run in public.
“I’m sorry,” I say on a semi-controlled exhale once I’m settled behind the wheel. “I couldn’t wait another second for you to shoot Drew, or I would’ve. You weren’t hit, were you?”
“I don’t think so.” He looks himself over. Other than the two wet spots on his knees where he went down in the grass, he’s dry. The Delanos are only about twenty yards away, but they’ve slowed to a walk. They know they’re too late.
He leans back in the seat, his dark hair smushing against the headrest. He scowls in exasperation. “That did not go well. Totally missed Drew. He’s going to be hard to get now.”
“Could’ve been worse, though,” I say, trying to make him feel better. “You could’ve missed Drew and been eliminated.”
“True.” He doesn’t sound relieved.
“I know it stinks, but you have the rest of the week to try for Drew. And now you know who’s after you, so you can watch your back.”
“I guess.” The wrinkles in his forehead ease. “Since both Delanos are here chasing me, they couldn’t have gotten Josh. So that’s another positive.”
He reaches over his right shoulder to grab the seatbelt, then pauses, his hand hovering near the window. “Wait. Unless that was Josh calling me to tell me he was hit and that they were coming to get me next. My phone buzzed right as Drew came around the house.” A look of alarm skitters over Connor’s face as he lifts his rear end off the seat and pats his back pocket for his phone.
“That was me,” I tell him. “I was trying to warn you about the twins. When I first noticed them hiding in the woods a few houses away I assumed they were stalking someone else on the street, so I didn’t pay much attention to them. Then I realized that, other than Drew, I don’t know any seniors who live on this block.” I make an apologetic grimace. “It finally dawned on me that they had to be watching you. They were in the woods for nearly two hours. When I saw them leave to circle around the back side of Drew’s house, I knew I had to warn you.”
There’s a dull thud as Connor’s head connects with the headrest. “I kept thinking I was hearing noise from the woods! But how would the Delanos have known where to find me? How did you know they knew?” Connor looks sideways at me, frowning even as the edges of his mouth quirk up. “And why are you here, anyway, if that’s not one too many questions?”
“I’ll answer if you take the wheel,” I say, since I’m not allowed to drive him anywhere. “Don’t get out, though. Climb over.”
I circle the car and buckle into the passenger side while Connor gets into the driver’s seat and slides it back. Once I’m in, he turns the key in the ignition and eases out into the road. We pass the Delano twins, one of whom takes a gratuitous shot at the side of my car—totally uncool—while the other gives Connor a mocking salute. At the same time, Drew treats us to a feminine, finger-waggling wave through his car window.
“Morons,” Connor mutters as we leave them behind. I have to agree.
“I assume the Delanos followed you from your house as you cut through the woods,” I tell him once we’ve rounded the corner. “Firing in the woods and actually hitting you through the trees and underbrush would’ve been tough unless they were really close. But Drew’s backyard is so big and open, I bet that once you were clear of the woods they couldn’t get into firing range without being seen. They probably decided to hide out until Drew came out of his house, figuring you’d be distracted and they’d be able to approach without you noticing.”
“I wasn’t even thinking I might be targeted myself.” He straightens in the seat. “But that all makes sense. If the Delanos were staking out the front of my house, they wouldn’t have been able to see me come out the back in time to follow very closely.”
One side of his mouth hitches into a grin as he adds, “But you didn’t say…why did you follow me? And when did you get here? You’re the last person I was expecting to see in Drew’s yard.”
“Josh asked me to. I’ve been parked down the street since four a.m.”
Connor says, “Huh,” but looks ill at ease all of a sudden.
I stretch forward to click off the radio, rapidly growing uncomfortable myself. There was a odd vibe between us yesterday at Lowe’s, then again while we were eating a
t Subway. I thought I was imagining it, but now I feel it again. It’s not a bad vibe. Just…odd. Palpable.
I force back a shiver. “Josh offered me twenty-five bucks on top of what he already owes me if I’d watch your back this morning. Guess it’s a good thing he did. Even if you weren’t worried about being targeted, he was.” But as the words come out of my mouth, I have to wonder whether there was more to Josh’s request than I thought. It isn’t like Josh to part with money unless he’s forced to do it. Josh also arranged to have me search for the tubing with Connor in Lowe’s, leaving us alone while he went for the funnel. Josh is usually all about getting rid of me so he can be with his friends.
As Connor adjusts the rear view mirror, his arm brushes mine, sending a current of awareness right to my core. Then he smiles, giving me another flash of his dimples.
