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After a quick look in a few of the cupboards, I find a sports bag. I shove in some underwear – none of which looks much more appealing than what I have already — along with some tops and some jeans. I’m not loving these boots but, judging by the hurry the Emperor was in, I doubt I have much time for trying on shoes.
I yank down a few silk scarves at random, and toss in a pair of red heels, though I can’t think of anything in the bag I could wear them with.
In the bathroom, I scoop up a toothbrush and some basic toiletries when I hear a series of loud crashes and bangs from outside. They’re coming closer, and fast.
I drop the bag and struggle to reach my bound wrists around to fish the Sig from my pocket. I’m still wrestling with the pants when the door to the bedroom outside crashes. Heavy boots and the muffled grunts of two men clomp into the room.
The bathroom door is not fully shut, but if I try to open it with my elbow, I’d be in an open doorway, a sitting duck. An easy target.
I grip the Sig with both hands and raise it, and slip behind the doorway.
The noise in the room outside sounds like an aggressive search and is distinctly hostile.
Before I have time to think, the bathroom door bangs open and a short, cut-off shotgun pokes in. I kick the door hard. The hands holding the gun are slammed in the frame. The man attached to them barges the door wide. He has heavy coverings, probably Kevlar, a helmet and a black scarf over his nose and mouth.
He raises the shotgun.
I squeeze the trigger. Nothing happens. I pull again. The Sig has a double-step release. I’m thrilled to remember and it’s as I expect, the recoil knocks the pistol up and right — itismy gun.
The shotgun falls away as the black hole drilled between the man’s eyebrows matches the startled shock in his eyes.
I step back, waiting for the other man.
He’s too smart. He’s ahead of me. He bobs in the doorway, crouched low with his weapon ready. I’m exposed, against the wall. An easy shot.
A gun cracks and the attacker crumples to the side.
My Warrior leans in. Looks at the one that I shot, then back up at me.
“Youarecoming back to us.”
He beckons for me to come out.
With my Sig Sauer pointed down and away and my hands still wrapped around the grip, I tell him, “Put the shotguns in my sports bag.”
When I’ve passed him, I lift the gun to shoulder height. Then, knees bent, I extend my arms as I go through the door, cover the hallway, check clearance. Moving from wall to wall, I head for the stairwell. When I’ve seen that it’s clear, I head down, covering possible areas of threat as quickly as I safely can.
The Emperor emerges, crouching, backing out of the kitchen with a gun in both hands, sweeping doorways and the corridor. He spins, holding the gun on me. I nod. Then I see a movement behind him.
A man, armed, dressed like the two intruders upstairs. The Emperor turns fast, but I already got two shots off. The attacker is down.
When the Mastermind meets us in the garage, he says, “Look at you, kitten. Three shots, three shots on target.” My Warrior and the Emperor both nod approvingly.
The Emperor says. “You saved my ass, for sure.”
“You haven’t forgotten everything,” my Warrior adds.
The Mastermind and the Emperor both look at him. Then, shake their heads with wry twists of their mouths as their eyes swing to each other.
“Do I still have to ride tied up in the trunk?” I direct the question to the Emperor, but the Mastermind says, “You’re boxed in so nobody sees you. That’s for your protection as well as ours.”
I hold up my wrists and cock an eyebrow.
He puckers. The other two watch him. He turns his head and says, “You made one escape attempt already.” Then, “Anyway, you already proved you can take care of yourself brilliantly just as you are..”
“I think you are all getting off on seeing me tied up.”
They all shrug as they look at each other, then back at me.
