The Consequence of Revenge
“I freaking love Disney,” Reid said in a serious voice. “Max, Bro, do you remember Up? Damn movie had me sobbing for days.”
“Yeah, it was . . . good.” Max patted Reid’s head. “But this is so much better.”
“Why?” Reid yawned. “Yawns are funny, so is breathing.” He then made a huge show of inhaling and exhaling so much he started coughing.
“Because—” Max shut off the lights. “Look, you’re starring in this movie.”
“So cool!” Reid sighed.
“Reid.”
“Shh!” Reid snapped at Max and then whispered, “I’m watching my ass.”
Max held up his hands. “Have fun, Bro, just remember, I love you.”
“Love you too, Brother!”
Max escorted me out.
It wasn’t until we were almost back to his hut that I heard a scream pierce the night sky . . . and it was Reid’s.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
MAX
“We should go back.” Becca grabbed my arm. “He’s in pain!”
“So was I!” I scoffed. “Especially with you straddling me and . . .” Max looked away. “Stuff.”
“I’m sorry.” Becca smirked. “With me straddling you . . . and stuff?”
“It’s late.” I fake-yawned. “I can’t think of big words when it’s late.”
“It’s midnight.”
“Your watch is upside down.” I pointed at her wrist.
Becca lifted it closer to her face, giving me time to pin her against the side of the hut. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
“The combination of Bengay and Reid watching an elderly woman got you all hot and bothered, didn’t it?” Her voice was teasing, breathless, but I knew it was a front. She was pretending not to care about kissing or sharing another moment with me.
But she cared.
More than she wanted to admit.
More than I wanted to acknowledge.
So I gently lowered my head and brushed a soft kiss across her lips. “Thanks for helping me torture my brother tonight.”
Becca shivered in my arms. “What are partners for?”
“You can be my partner any day. Dibs for when we play laser tag, for real. Those kids won’t know what hit them, especially Jimmy, damn bane of my existence. What ten-year-old plays that dirty?”
“Laser tag?”
“One of my many”—my lips massaged hers—“many”—I dipped my tongue into her mouth—“many talents.”
Becca pulled back. “What other talents do you have?”
“If you have to ask . . .” I sighed. “Do you really deserve to know?”
“Cocky.”
“Extremely insecure.” I tried to look humble, making Becca laugh out loud. I would freaking Thor my way through life if I could just hear that laugh every second.
“I should go to bed.” She sighed.
“Every sidekick needs his rest.”
“Um, sidekick? I’m pretty sure I was the main event.” Becca slapped me across the chest lightly.
“Sure, you drugged him.” I peeled myself away from her. A few days, I’d only known her a few days. I couldn’t invite her in even though I desperately wanted to. “But who taped him to a chair?”
“Right.” Becca nodded. “So when the FBI questions us I’ll be sure to let them know I was just the sidekick. Glad we got our stories straight.”
I grinned.
“Night, Max.” She returned the smile, her hand lingering on my arm.
“You know you can stay,” I whispered.
“Probably not a good idea.” She didn’t meet my gaze. “You know, since you have Bengay all over your hands.”
I burst out laughing. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”
“I’d rather not feel that kind of tingle.” With a wink she walked off, her hips swaying the entire way toward the huts.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
MAX
To say Reid gave me a wide berth over the course of the next week would be an understatement. Pretty sure he was still planning his revenge, because every once in a while I’d see him glare at me, then scribble something down in a notebook.
Normally he’d be the type of guy to give me hell during all the competitions, but aside from laughing when I fell out of the coconut tree, an incident that would probably cause me to wince when I saw coconuts at the grocery store, he was quiet, the perfect professional.
My head hurt, my ass hurt, everything hurt. When they’d said we’d be competing they hadn’t meant that I’d get to sit around and watch the girls vie for my favor . . . um, no, each competition was getting harder and harder, stretching my sanity to the limit until I felt like snapping.
There was the Survivor-style canoe race.
The “What type of foreign animal am I eating?” competition that nearly sent me to the set doctor after I had a bad reaction to fish eggs.
The night volleyball—played with oversize balls that had a tendency to break upon being touched too hard.
And finally, my favorite, what would probably be called the Carrie episode, where we had to hunt and kill a wild boar.
Blood had been everywhere. Swear mine had no meat, just blood.
We were ten days in.
Eight girls were left, including Becca, and, staying true to my promise, I kept all the crazies away from her. We were an unstoppable team. Anyone watching the show would know she was a favorite. But I mean, look at her. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was . . . hilarious, intelligent, going to school to be a teacher, she had direction.