Free Shot Through the Heart by Niki Burnham Page A

there’s something important I need to tell Drew to lure him out in the open. I’ll have him meet me in public or even at my house. Then boom! You know he won’t expect it from me. And you know—well, given what happened last spring—he’ll feel obligated to come talk to me if I ask him to, assuming he has even one decent bone in his body.”
     
    This is not what I was expecting to hear at all.
     
    “Are you sure? I mean, you’d be comfortable doing that?” Teams pull these shenanigans all the time, using any con imaginable to draw a target out in the open. Josh and I never considered it as part of our strategy—well, other than in Josh’s text about disabling Drew’s car, which I assume was a joke—but desperate times call for desperate measures.
     
    Besides, every time we try to stalk Drew we risk getting shot by Joe Delano, who still hasn’t been shot by the team targeting him.
     
    Molly would make things very, very easy. Especially since everything in her body language screams, do it, do it! But then an image of Peyton pops into my head, giving me a case of the guilts over using her as an excuse to stop Molly’s texting yesterday afternoon.
     
    “You’re not going to get Drew without my help.” Her argument sounds very matter-of-fact. “And I’m totally comfortable with it.”
     
    “But I’m not sure I’m comfortable with it.” I close my eyes for a moment and lean against the cinder block wall between two banks of lockers. The last thing I need is be part of some revenge plot between exes, particularly with Molly involved.
     
    Nope. I can’t. No matter how tempting her offer.
     
    I meet her gaze square-on. “Molly, between us—and I will deny this conversation ever took place if asked—Josh should never have taken or posted that video. It ticked off Grayson and Drew big time, which makes our job harder. Regardless, what happened with you and Drew shouldn’t—”
     
    “Please? You can always pay me back by helping me knock out my target. People cut these deals all the time to advance. You know they do.” Her fingers are wrapped around my arm, right above my elbow, as she breathes close to my ear. “Don’t consider what happened with me and Drew, if it makes you feel better. We’ll look at it as two friends who are helping each other advance in the tournament. All right? Because I can use the help, too. I want to win Senior Assassin as much as you do.”
     
    As much as we both know she’s flirting by putting her hand on my elbow, it’s not the right opening for me to explain how I feel or to pull away. It’s practically mandatory to stand this close when the topic of conversation is Senior Assassin. Even a guy would be leaning in to whisper strategy.
     
    Although a guy might not smell like he popped a Cinnamon Altoid in anticipation of the conversation.
     
    “Come on, Connor. You know you want to.”
     
    She can tell I’m struggling. Her eyes are wide, innocent, and pleading, as if turning her down would be both idiotic and inconsiderate on my part.
     
    I look away. She squeezes my elbow. “Pretty please?”
     
    I nod.
     
    She jumps and claps her hands. “Once you and Josh have a plan, let me know. If I come up with something first, I’ll text you. Okay?”
     
    “Sure.” The more joy she exudes, the more I feel like a jackass.
     
    The halls are nearly empty now. We start walking again, this time with purpose since our AP Calculus teacher likes to make an example out of late arrivals. His preferred method is to send you up to the board to make you work the previous night’s homework challenge question in front of everyone. Worse, he leaves it up for the next class with your name written above it.
     
    “So, if Peyton didn’t tell you all of that, what is it that you wanted to tell me?” Molly’s voice is light and airy, filled with expectation. A smile plays across her face as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Was it something about sharing