Security Squad

by Nicolette Pierce

“So I would know where to look in case you didn’t come home.”

  His eyes flickered. “Home?”

  I nodded.

  For a brief moment, his armor fell. His fingers laced around the nape of my neck, bringing me to him. His mouth descended, and I felt a rush when his lips touched mine.

  “I just want you safe, Mars,” he murmured as he placed kiss after kiss. “Please don’t put yourself in danger again.”

  I couldn’t respond one way or the other. His kiss had become demanding as he backed me toward the bed. I fell back when the back of my knees hit the mattress. He lower his body onto mine, his hands racing up my body, pressing my wrists to the pillow as his mouth rampaged mine.

  And then I heard it.

  The double click of a handcuff being slapped around my wrist and the headboard. The sound had me wincing at my stupidity.

  Of course he would trick me into bed only to handcuff me, and I’d followed like a buffoon.

  He kissed me again, softer, backing away with a shuddered breath.

  “Don’t ever put your life in danger,” he said.

  “Then don’t put your life in danger,” I replied.

  “It’s my job.”

  “No, it’s not. You’re not a cop anymore.”

  “No, but you’re mine,” he said tenderly. “I’ll always keep you and those around you safe.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I said. “You can’t take on the entire world just to keep everyone safe.”

  “Can’t I?”

  “No.”

  He smiled. “The offer is still open to relocate to a remote island where there’d be no danger and no need for clothes.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I muttered again, although the offer was tempting if only for a week.

  Month.

  Year.

  “I have to go meet T,” he said, kissing me one last time. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  “Then take off the cuffs,” I said.

  “You’ll follow me,” he said.

  “I don’t have a car.”

  “I trust you with my life, but not with yours,” he said, leaving me handcuffed.

  Dammit!

  “I’ll escape!” I threatened to his retreating footsteps.

  “I believe in spankings,” he stated, shutting the door as he left.

  The last thing I heard was the deadbolt sliding into place.

  Chapter 25

  I yanked at the handcuff. I don’t know why. I knew it wasn’t going to magically slip off my wrist.

  I settled into bed, leaning against the headboard. Edna should be here soon. But how was she going to get in?

  There was nothing to do but wait. At least Brett hadn’t taken my phone, I thought, pulling it out of my pocket.

  Mrs. Janowski’s text was waiting for me.

  10-4.

  That’s the text that got me handcuffed to the bed. I replied with: Bring handcuff keys.

  The minutes ticked by slowly, and I was about ready to start gnawing at the headboard to escape when a sound caught my attention. If my ears were correct, a tiny woodpecker was pecking at metal. But unless the tiny woodpecker could say “blast it!” I knew there had to be another explanation.

  “Hello?” I shouted.

  “It’s just me, dear,” Edna called.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Learning how to use the YouTube,” she replied.

  “Outside?”

  “It’s the only way to get inside,” she said. “Oh, double blast!”

  I was lost. I had no idea how to even respond.

  The metal pecking sound began again.

  “You know the door is locked, right?” I called.

  “Of course I do. That’s why I’m still out here.”

  “Break a window and help me escape.”

  “I can’t break a window,” she said, still tinkering outside. “It would create a huge mess, and then two months from now you’ll step on a shard of glass you missed.”

  “I’m not too worried about two months from now.”

  “I’m nearly finished,” she said.

  “With what?”

  “Picking the lock.”

  Picking the lock? Edna?

  “Ha! I got the little bugger open!” she exclaimed. “Oh, drat. He locked the deadbolt too. Hang on. I might need more instruction.”

  Gnawing at the headboard seemed like a good idea again.

  “Do you know if Ida was able to round up anyone?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Edna said. “She said she had to find where they made camp. Jack and Hank are helping, but Hank seems to think they’re already out of town.”

  I texted my dad a simple “Where are you?” message. I had small hopes of him replying. He was probably passed out, strapped on the back of Pothole’s bike.

  “What about Mrs. Janowski?” I asked. “Was she able to find non-lethal weapons?”

  “You know her,” Edna said. “She doesn’t understand the combination of non-lethal and weapons.”

  Edna let out a whoop and opened the front door.

  “I’m in the bedroom,” I called.

  I heard her shuffling feet near the door. She popped her head in and immediately turned magenta.

  “That naughty little devil handcuffed you to the bed,” she squeaked.

  “I don’t suppose you know how to pick handcuff locks?” I asked.

  “That was the first lesson,” she said. “And thankfully, the easiest.”

  I watched as she broke a bobby pin in two and bit off the plastic ends. She then bent the metal and inserted it into the lock.

  “Hold still,” she said. “I think if I poke it in here and turn this other one . . . voila!”

  The handcuff released, freeing my hand. I rubbed my wrist where the metal had irritated it.

  “You learned that from watching a video?” I asked.

  “I got a smart phone last week. I had no idea it was so smart.” Edna shook her head and stowed her phone in a flowery knit handbag. “It’s amazing. I’m just glad Irene hasn’t figured it out yet. Could you imagine the trouble she’d get into?”

  Irene, aka Mrs. Janowski, was sure to cause trouble no matter what phone she was carrying.

  “Let’s get going,” I said. “We need to head over to Fenwig’s and see how we can help.”

  “Brett and T are going to be mad.”

  “I’ll worry about that later,” I said, hurrying out the door and over to Edna’s car.

  My last threads of patience slipped away as Edna poked along the road going ten under every speed limit. Her seat was set all the way forward, her nose nearly touching the windshield.

  Patience, I repeated over and over as my fingers curled around the door handle, strangling it.

  If nothing else, the delay will at least give Brett and T plenty of time to break into Fenwig’s house, making it easier for me to prowl without getting caught by the pair.

  It also gave me time to think about where Fenwig might set up an S&M room. Not that I wanted to think on it too much. However, I doubted it would have windows. Something about S&M motif didn’t seem like it should include windows. Were chains and whips motif?

  I had no idea.

  But it made me suspect that my first prowling destination would be the basement . . . if I had to.

  An instant shiver ran through me.

  Perhaps Brett and T will have everything wrapped up by the time we arrive, which will probably be in two hours.

  “Would you like me to drive?” I asked.

  “You just relax, dear. We’ll be there in no time.”

  I swallowed a groan.

  When we finally arrived, Mrs. Janowski and Sylvia were waiting a block away.

  “I saw them sneak inside,” Mrs. Janowski said. “They went around back and jimmied a window open.”

  “How long ago?” I asked.

  “Ten minutes, tops.”

  “Has there been any movement? Lights?” I asked, looki
ng at the dark house.

  “Nothing.”

  That set me on guard. It would have taken them two minutes to check the house and leave. They found something. Or someone.

  “What do we have for defense?” I asked.

  Mrs. Janowski popped her trunk. “I grabbed everything I could find. Paintball guns, firecrackers, cherry bombs, baseball bats, an assortment of horseshoes, and I even brought the broken tennis ball launcher.”

  “Broken?”

  “Well, it’s broken in the sense that it whips balls so fast, the outgoing ball could knock you out. I knew there was a reason I kept it all these years.”

  “Has anyone heard from Ida?” I asked.

  “Hank and Jack are on their way right now. She sniffed out the riders’ trail, but she’s not sure if they’ll help us.”

  “I guess I wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t. It’s not like we know them well. They’re just riding through town. And I doubt they’d get here in time.”

  “That’s what she said.”

  I stared at the house. Even the usual outdoor spotlight that illuminated the stately white house was turned off.

  I shook off the foreboding feeling twisting around my gut as I headed for the backyard. “I’m going in. I’ll message you when I find them.”

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” Edna said. “Leave it to the professionals.”

  “The professionals have been inside way too long,” I said. “They should have been out in two minutes. Five if they found Bob and Mac.”

  “Take some cherry bombs with you,” Mrs. Janowski said. “At least you can distract them.”

  Edna squeaked.

  “Cherry bombs aren’t really bombs,” Mrs. Janowski tisked to her.

  “No,” Edna whispered. “There was a dark figure that ran back behind the house.”

  “Are you sure?” Mrs. Janowski asked.

  “I’m not blind!”

  “I have to get in there,” I said, shoving cherry bombs and matches into my pocket. “Something went wrong.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Mrs. Janowski stated.

  “No,” I nearly shouted. “I need you here to secure the perimeter.” That sounded reasonable. “Just be careful and don’t take any risks. Call the cops if something goes wrong.”

  “Something already went wrong,” Sylvia said.

  “Right. Well, something they’d respond to, not just a dark figure fleeing.”

  I took a deep breath and then took off, armed with cherry bombs. I stalked along the edge of the house until I came across the window Brett and T had broken into. It was still cracked open. I stole a peek and saw that it was dark. Not all that helpful, but at least there was a decent chance the room was empty. I slid the window up and climbed through it. I was a bit more graceful this time than at the cottage.

  I let my eyes adjust to the darkness and found the door. Cracking it open, I listened for sounds. It was quiet.

  Tiptoeing out into a hallway, I crept along the wall. Now I only had to find the basement door in this gigantic house.

  As I moved down the hall, I found two doors. Both rooms were silent and no light filtered under the doors. Slowly twisting the doorknob, I gently opened one of the doors to find an office. The next one must have had the curtains drawn because it was pitch black. The air felt warm, not cool like a stairwell to a basement.

  I continued my search through the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Still no sounds, still no light.

  Still no basement.

  I turned a corner and ran into a dead end.

  Odd.

  Why would there be a short hallway with nothing in it and nowhere to go? I guess I couldn’t say nothing was in it. There was a full-size painting hanging on the wall.

  Again, odd.

  I was about to turn around and continue my search when I heard a footstep. And then more.

  Where were they coming from? I scrambled to find a hiding spot, not knowing which direction to turn.

  At the last moment, I dove behind a sofa in the living room.

  A door clicked open and a trickle of light spread from the little hallway. The door closed and the footsteps continued. There had to be at least two people.

  “Let’s get out of here,” a man said.

  “Are you sure this is going to work?” another man said. “I’m sick of cleaning up after that guy.”

  “After tonight, you won’t have to worry about him ever again.”

  “Sims is going to be ticked.”

  “Only that he was roughed up. He got his revenge. We swept up the trail nice and clean.”

  Sims?

  “I can’t believe they fell for his fake badge.”

  “It wasn’t a fake.”

  “You mean he’s a . . .?”

  “He’s not a cop,” the man gritted. “Let’s go before you give me a headache.”

  “Or they set off the bomb.”

  “Good point.”

  They walked past the couch I was hiding behind and continued to the back.

  A horrible thought zapped through my mind as their footsteps grew quieter. Would Mrs. Janowski be in the backyard and try to apprehend these men?

  I had no doubt they were probably armed, and they were obviously dangerous. I pulled out my phone to quickly text her a warning.

  “What’s that?” a man asked.

  “What?”

  “There was a flash of light.”

  “A car probably turned on the road or something.”

  “No. It wasn’t that kind of light.”

  I quickly hid my phone. Of all the stupid things to do. Here I am worrying about what stunts everyone else might pull, and I do the most asinine one.

  A flashlight clicked on, the beam darting through the room. I flattened against the couch.

  “Come on! We don’t have time to waste.”

  “Someone’s here.”

  “No one is here!”

  The beam of light came closer. It licked at the couch and my shoes. I quickly moved them.

  “I just heard something,” the man said. “Whoever you are, you have two seconds to come out.”

  I wasn’t coming out.

  “I smell her,” came an eerie voice that I judged to be male, although it was very wispy.

  Were there three people?

  “She’s behind the couch,” the sinister voice said.

  The beam of light hit me square in the eyes, and I was yanked from my hiding spot.

  “Who are you?” a large man barked, pushing me into the couch.

  I blinked against the light directed into my eyes.

  “I know you,” the voice curled. “You put a couple of my best clients in jail. Quite distressing.”

  “Should I stick her down there with the rest?”

  “Please do. It will save me a step later. She was on my list and I was planning on something extra special, but I guess it all works out for the best,” the wispy voice drawled.

  Hands grappled my arms and dragged me from the couch.

  “I don’t suppose you’d let me take her in back first?” one of the men asked.

  “Bomb,” drawled the voice again. “Tick tock.”

  “Right,” he muttered, jostling me to the stairs.

  “Oh, Ms. Cannon,” the voice called. “Do tell Annie bravo for me when you see her. Such a feather in her cap to pull off such a stunt. I do believe she’ll make the history books.”

  It was the first time since I was caught that I found my voice, and it was angry. “She’s in jail. Her ‘stunt’ days are over.”

  His laugh trickled through the room like a wind chime.

  A man dragged me to the full-sized painting in the short hallway. He wrenched it to the side and pushed me through.

  “Downstairs. And don’t try anything. I’d rather break your neck than have to go down there again.”

  Well, at least I found the basement, I thought glumly.

  I can’t believe I lead everyone into danger. I knew i
t would be dangerous, I just didn’t realize to what degree. The ladies outside, armed with horseshoes and tennis balls, were no match for these guys.

  And Sims wasn’t a cop.

  And the owner of the chilling voice said I was on his list.

  His list!

  The magnitude of that barely penetrated my mind, which was becoming foggier than London. It was shutting down. I was moving, but it was as if through a slow-motion dream.

  “In here,” came the rough order.

  I stumbled into a room. The lights were on, and I really wished they weren’t. The blackened walls with chains and spikes sent my already-shaking legs into a quaking mess.

  “Mars?” I heard Brett’s voice. “Take your hands off her!” he growled.

  “Shut up or I’ll have a little fun with her first!” the man snarled, pushing me against the wall. He grabbed my wrist and snapped it into a cuff above my head, doing the same with the other wrist. His giant foot kicked my feet apart, cuffing both ankles to the wall.

  “This is a nice look for you,” the man said. “I might have a bit of fun after all.”

  “Don’t you fucking touch her! I swear to God I’ll hunt you down!”

  “Big words for a man in chains.” The man’s hand wrapped around my neck, his face only an inch from mine. “I think I like my odds.”

  A holler from the staircase had the man backing away, but only slightly. “I’ll be there in a minute!” he shouted, his foul breath like acid against my skin.

  “Now!” was the reply.

  He cursed and shoved his lips on mine in a bruising kiss. He pulled back, biting hard. Blood trickled down my lip. The metallic taste gagged me.

  I could hear Brett. His anger filled the room.

  The man disappeared up the stairs.

  I felt like a suffocating starfish stuck to a scary wall.

  “Breathe, Mars,” Brett said. “Breathe.”

  Breathe? The air was too thick and heavy. It was like sucking down a thick malt through a skinny straw. Nothing was coming through.

  I gasped.

  Where is the air?

  The room drifted from view.

  “Mars! Breathe!”

  Chapter 26

  My arms hurt, I thought, blinking awake. Why do my arms hurt? And my lip. Actually, everything hurt.

  “Mars?” Brett called. “Sweet thing, you have to wake up.”