Kickass Anthology by Keira Andrews, Jackie Keswick, Jade Crystal, Nancy Hartmann, Tali Spencer, JP Kenwood, A.L. Boyd, Mia Kerick, Brandon Witt, Sophie Bonaste Page B

was probably the whisky's fault that he'd fallen asleep where he sat.
    Jack uncurled his legs and winced when his spine cracked loudly the moment he started to straighten up. His knees hurt as if he'd spent the night doing more exciting things than sleep in an armchair and his neck felt as if someone had pinned it to his left shoulder with a broad iron stake.
    The armchair was his favourite place to work, but that certainly didn't make it the most comfortable space to sleep. He really had to remember that.
    When he finally made it into the vertical, the room wobbled and swayed around him and his stomach roiled in answer. Jack closed his eyes and wondered how he'd managed to go through this every morning for over three months. And more to the point... why?
    No, scratch that. He knew why. Not that it had made a difference.
    "Can you tolerate coffee?" Paul's voice was blissfully quiet, but more than a little hesitant as he asked.
    "Tolerate it? I'm dead without," Jack rasped and forced his eyes open again. "Man, I love you!" he groaned when he saw the steaming mug the gangly brunet held out to him. He rested one hand on the back of the sofa to steady himself and took the mug with the other.
    The coffee was hot, black and so sweet it needed a label beyond disgusting.
    It was also the only thing that could cure his hangover, so Jack manfully forced it down his throat until he felt the heat spread through him and banish the wisps of cold that flashed over his skin and shivered through his bones.
    "Right," he said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly while trying to curve his lips into something resembling a smile. "Let's do this again. You were saying?"
    "Declan's got a date for tonight. Big thing, apparently."
    More warmth spread through Jack. This time, it was the soft, silky prickle of anticipation, laced with a hefty dose of glee. It bubbled through him like golden froth, banishing the last of the whisky's effects. Traps had been a passion of his since he'd set his first one aged twelve, and he looked forward to a spot of pure indulgence.
    He grinned so wide his ears felt the stretch and wrapped an arm around Paul's shoulders. "You're still with us, right?"
    "Yeah, sure," the lanky kid beamed. "If you think it will really work like you said."
    "Oh, don't worry about that," Jack reassured. "It will work like a charm. Let me grab a shower and wake up Tom. Then you can help me set up. Since you're doing physics you know all about pulleys, right?"
     
     
    "DO YOU really think he'll take the bait?" It was mid-afternoon and Paul's skinny frame trembled with excitement. They'd worked steadily for a few hours, combining wire, paint balls, ink and other arcane bits of household equipment into a cunning trap that Paul couldn't believe would ever be successful in stopping Declan Flanagan from helping himself to someone else's gear. Despite his misgivings he was full of hope, and with adrenaline painting bright red spots into his thin cheeks he looked like a half-finished mascot.
    "You need clown shoes," Jack decided, brain turned off and mouth on autopilot while he juggled three screwdrivers and a knife to the beat coming from the stereo. "Or makeup. But not both."
    Paul's face turned tomato red. He slapped his hands over his cheeks and cringed.
    "That was a joke," Jack explained, voice kind. "They have those where you grew up, yeah?"
    "Jackass."
    Paul shoved him and Jack grinned. "You're not wrong. Now go ruin his knickers. This will be epic."
    Paul left and Jack continued to string wires, humming along to Springsteen's special brand of hope, despair and defiance, and wondering what his captain would have to say could he see Jack now. Most likely he'd bring a bottle and join right in, the amber eyes bright with amusement and an impish grin on his face.
    And wasn't that an image to warm a cold night?
    By four o'clock they were ready and settled into Paul's car, parked just far enough down the road from their digs so Declan