Page 42 of Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad World

An alarm sounded, and everyone was on their feet and running. A red light flashed above Evan’s control center, and he spun toward it.

“Front door,” he shouted after them.

They ran down the stairs, guns drawn. Above them, Noah heard voices and knew Harris was ushering Annabelle into the panic room.

As they turned the corner to take the last flight of stairs down to the entrance, Noah saw Violet had beaten them to it. The front door was open, and she was outside.

Her gun trained on a woman who stood with her hands in the air.

“Check the street,” Rochelle ordered as they rushed through the door.

Rodrigo went left, Abasi right.

Noah backed up Rochelle and Violet, eyes scanning the street and the surrounding buildings. Nothing jumped out at him, so he turned his attention to the woman caught in Violet’s cross hairs.

It took a second for the situation to register.

The woman’s tanned skin tone had turned ashen as she stared down the barrel of the gun. She was about the same height as Violet but a little rounder. Her dark eyes were wide behind her purple-framed glasses, and her mouth was open—asthough she wanted to scream but didn’t dare. She wore a hot pink shirt over black shorts, white socks, and running shoes. At her side was a large pink roller bag. And on its side was printed:Get your mind out of the gutter.

Noah lowered his gun. “Put down your weapons. She isn’t with the gang.”

“G-gang?” the woman sputtered.

“How do you know?” Violet’s voice was ice.

“The bowling ball bag’s a dead giveaway. So’s the bowling shirt. Hell, she has her team’s name embroidered on the pocket.”

Violet leaned in to read the text. “Betty’s Brigade?” She straightened. “Could be a cover. If I wanted to scout the place, I’d send in a middle-aged woman with a bowling bag. How do we even know there are balls in that bag? It’s big enough to store a shotgun.”

“May I?” Noah indicated to the pink bag, and the woman nodded her head furiously.

He rounded Violet and unzipped the bag. There were three balls inside.

“Are they real?” Violet didn’t take her eyes off her target. “Or cleverly disguised bombs?”

“Want me to throw one at you to find out?” Noah asked.

Rochelle put away her gun. “Do you have any ID on you, ma’am?”

Slowly, her eyes still on Violet and her gun, the woman lowered her hands and unzipped her small cross-body bag. She handed her wallet to Rochelle, who flipped it open.

“Janice Mason, from Alabama.” She frowned at the woman. “Why are you in Houston?”

“B-b-bowling,” the woman said.

“Violet, put down the gun,” Rochelle ordered as Abasi and Rodrigo came back around the building.

“Clear,” Abasi said.

“And this side,” Rodrigo added.

“This is obviously a false alarm,” Rochelle said to the woman as Violet reluctantly holstered her weapon. “I apologize for my security team’s reaction. We’re working as a protection detail in this building and on alert for threats. Is there a reason you came to our door?”

Janice visibly swallowed, her eyes darting between them all. “The Uber driver dropped me off at the wrong address. I’m looking for the bowling alley and just wanted directions.”

“I know where it is,” Evan said as he came through the door. He too wore hot pink and could easily have been a member of the woman’s bowling team. The only difference was that his Hawaiian shirt and shorts had colorful parrots printed all over them. “It’s beside my favorite Mexican deli. Remember that retro bowling alley I told you about? It’s pretty cool. I can take her there.”

“Count me in,” Janice muttered.