Page 77 of Dangerously
March actually considers this. “Can I wear a pink tiara?”
“Whatever the fuck you want.”
“It’s a plan.” March puts his hands together and taps the tips of his fingers in delight.
“You know where you’re going?” I’m ready to get the fuck out of this car and get my girls back.
“Top of the stairs, make a left, third door on the right,” March repeats my directions verbatim.
“Perfect. In and out. Quiet as a mouse.”
“One, like I’m going to be lingering in that house; second, is there any other kind of quiet?”
“I’m sure there is, but we don’t have time to debate it.” I open the car door, then the trunk. It looks like a militia’s Candy Land in here. I grab an AK and slip it onto my shoulder. Then gear up with two more automatics in my waistband, one micro Magnum in my boot, and a pair of night-vision goggles on top of my head.
“All you need is face paint.” All March loads is a pretty Smith & Wesson and goggles. He’s packing light.
“That’s all you’re taking?”
“All I need.” He’s a confident motherfucker. And even though I barely know him, I trust him.
“If you say so.”
“I do.” He grins.
“Fine, let’s go.” I shut the trunk quietly, and we disappear into the wooded area behind the old Victorian. I spent the last ten years of my life hanging out in this house. It practically became my second home. And now, all I want is to burn it to the ground with Ronan still inside. We crouch right at the backyard’s perimeter. “Hit the lights.”
March pulls out his phone, punches the screen a few times, and the lingering lights still on go out. “Ain’t technology grand?”
“It is when it works in your favor.” I slide the goggles onto my eyes. “Let’s go.”
Using the cover of night, we creep through the darkness to the side of the house where the servant’s entrance is. Ronan and I used to sneak in and out of here constantly when we were teenagers. It’s nice and tucked away and leads to its own private stairwell hidden inside the house.
I break away the brush growing in front of the old door. It isn’t as quiet as I’d like it to be.
“We should have brought bolt cutters or something,” March whispers.
“It’ll be fine. No one is ever in this part of the house.”
“Yeah, until they are and come out guns blazing.”
“Stop worrying. I know what I’m doing.” I break a branch, and it cracks loudly.
“Jesus, we are dead.”
“Nope.” I hit the old lock with the butt of my gun, and the door opens. “We’re in.”
“I feel like I’m in a bad 80’s action movie,” March complains.
“We’ll be back to modern times in two minutes,” I assure him.
“Can’t wait. Ronan should really have someone come and fix that door. You know, in case anyone wants to break in.” March is a barrel of snark.
“I’ll mention it to him when I see him,” I speak very softly, leading him down the narrow corridor to the staircase entrance. This is where we part. “You good?” I check one last time, the familiar smell of must from the old part of the house dredging up pieces of my past.
“Good as gold. See you outside.”
I nod and grab him just before he disappears. “Be careful,” I stress.
