Capture & Surrender (Market Garden, #5)(13)

Frank left them to catch their breath and headed back to the ready area to clean himself up. As soon as he was off the field, he pulled off his mask and wiped some sweat off his forehead with a shaking hand.

“Hey, Frank,” Geoff said as he walked past him. “I’m missing some bodies. You seen Mike and—” His eyes darted towards the field. Then back to Frank. His shoulders dropped. “I’m out a hundred quid, aren’t I?”

Frank nodded. “Probably want to go easy on your man tonight, too.”

“Oh yeah?” Geoff tilted his head. “Why’s that?”

Frank tossed his mask on the ground and started peeling off his gloves. “Why do you think?”

Geoff gulped. “Holy f*ck.”

“You have no idea.” Frank left his gear by the car, grabbed another set of clothes, and went into the concrete building with the restrooms and showers. Once he’d cleaned himself up, he came back, and right about then, Stefan and Mike returned.

Stefan had his arm around Mike’s waist. Stefan’s knees were dark with the same dirt that covered the front of Mike’s camouflage, and Mike wasn’t quite steady on his feet, even limping a bit. When he tore off his mask, though, he didn’t seem too unhappy about his predicament. That blissed-out grin told everyone in the ready area what Frank already knew, and the “nice going” claps on the arm started almost immediately.

Naturally, when Stefan took off his own mask, he had a smug grin on his face. He was still flushed too, and sweaty, which didn’t help Frank’s breathing in the slightest.

Geoff put his arm around Mike, relieving Stefan of the man’s weight, and the two long-time partners exchanged a few whispered words and a couple of grins. Frank had no doubt Geoff would be hearing all about it later, probably whispered in his ear while Mike did to him what Stefan had done. He shivered. What he wouldn’t have given . . .

Stefan collected his winnings and tucked them into his pocket. Then he dropped his gear beside Frank’s and glanced at him. “You know, between working for you and playing here, I’ll be driving a Ferrari by the end of the year.”

Frank laughed. “You’ve obviously found your niche, haven’t you?”

“I think I have.” Stefan dabbed at his face with a towel. “You seem to enjoy what I do.” He dropped the towel and met Frank’s eyes with a challenging stare. “Don’t you?”

“You’re certainly easy on the eyes when you’re displaying your talents.”

Stefan laughed dryly. “So, you only ref? You don’t play?” He inclined his head. “No war and no spoils?”

“What can I say?” Frank picked up his jacket and brushed some dirt off the arm. “I like to watch.”

“But you don’t play. Why not?”

Frank swallowed. Then he dropped his jacket on top of his gear. “Watching is more my style. And I think Geoff and Mike need some help putting up the tents.” He didn’t wait for a response.

It made sense to put up the tents while they still had light. Geoff had bought them in a surplus store, and they offered a little protection from eyes and the elements for the latter half of the day. Towards mid to late afternoon, things were more about the spoils than the war. For several of the guys, the shooting was merely a way to whet the appetite, since captures were pretty rare during the game. This was the part where people put down the paintball equipment and really indulged in their fantasies. Already, he heard people talking about it and negotiating their limits.

The first tent was up in no time at all. Another guy got a fire going in a fire pit, shielded again from the road, and the second tent, a couple metres away from the first, was up in a few minutes. Everybody was eager to move on to the main course.

Mike was getting a grill going with a metal contraption he’d filled with coal, and Chris was putting on a brew.

“Tea? Really?” Stefan asked near Frank.

“No alcohol.” Frank turned his head towards him. “You fire everything you have already? Or did you save some for the evening?”

Stefan cupped himself. “Who’s asking?”

Frank, old boy, you walked into that one.

“You might want to chat up the other guys. For the next part of the day.”

Stefan raised an eyebrow. “What happens next?”

“Well, the guys who want to get f*cked and abused choose that tent, and the others that one.” Frank nodded to the respective tents. “One side’s prisoners, the other’s . . . victors. Guards. Captors.”

“And you’ll just make tea and turn sausages for those who’ve worked up an appetite? Camp cook?” Stefan’s voice cut deep.

I know you’re disappointed, boy, but it’s not that simple.

“I told you. I like watching.”

Stefan’s jaw muscles tensed as if he were chewing on something. “Then why did you bring me here?”

“Introduce you to some good, sane people to play with. Figured you’d fit in with these guys, and you’ve made a big impression already, so—”

“Frank.” Stefan stepped so close they were chest to chest. Almost eye to eye, except Frank was taller. “Don’t think you can f*ck with my head.”

But you with mine?

Frank regarded him impassively. “Just repaying in kind.”