Page 125 of Secret Mission

They look at the helicopter, then me. “Where’s the usual guy?”

“He’s in the head at the airport. You know, some kind of bad food thing. I got called in for backup.”

They share a look.

“What, did he eat the same thing you guys did?”

One of the men rubs his stomach. “You know, I’ve been feeling a little weird.”

Groans all around from the other guards.

Another’s face is turning red. “I’m gonna be furious if I get the runs from that stupid salad the chef made today.”

Perfect. Half of them will be in the head within five minutes.

“Hey, guys, do you think Ms. Westerly could go inside before this storm unleashes? She could use some water. I don’t want her father thinking we held her up talking about diarrhea.”

Allison clears her throat on cue.

One of the guards leaps into motion, rushing to open the door to the mansion. “Right this way. Been a while since I’ve seen you.”

Allison motions to her throat.

“Oh, sorry,” the guy says, looking sheepish as he walks us into a gigantic foyer.

The ugly doesn’t stop on the outside of the monstrosity. Westerly’s not only a crook, he’s got piss-poor taste.

The guard rubs his stomach, winching.

I almost grin as he says, “Allison, you know where you’re going, I’m sure. I need to head to the… um, bathroom.”

She nods and grabs my elbow and drags me away. After we round a corner, she lets out a ragged breath. There’s a tremble in her hands, but her steps are calm and sure.

That’s when I hear the pop, pop, pop of gunfire outside.

Allison screeches to a halt, her attention snapping to me, and I wink at her.

Justice is right on time.

Realization hits her, and she hides a grin, and drags me quickly through a right hand turn, up a flight of stairs, and into a large office.

The pops continue outside, and I cross the room to the window for a look.

“JT’s got them running around like chickens with their heads cut off.”

“Thank god.” Allison starts moving books on a shelf. “The access to the bunker room is through here.”

“That’s not predictable.”

“I never said he was original.”

“Or a good decorator.”

She snorts, making a cute sound as she laughs.

After moving a few more books, Allison tugs on a small handle. Nothing happens.

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me this thing is broken.”