Dex looked down at himself. “But… I don’t have anything on me.”
“Then I suggest you be resourceful.”
“In other words, we’re on our own,” Sloane muttered, not really surprised. It wasn’t like he expected to go into every situation perfectly prepared. If his time at the THIRDS had taught him anything, it was to always expect the unexpected and shit was always guaranteed to go wrong.
“Are you saying you need me to hold your hand?” Sparks asked, amused.
“We got this.” Dex turned to Sloane and motioned toward the street. “Come on.” The door closed, and Dex stepped closer to Sloane. “This is so freaking weird.”
“I know. Okay, where do we start?”
“Our house,” Dex replied with a grin. “And more importantly, our closet.”
Sloane returned Dex’s grin. They were so all over this. “Let’s go. We’ve got a lot of area to cover.” Not to mention it was Sunday, so a good number of their neighbors were probably out enjoying the nice September weather before winter came to kick all their asses, and someone could arrive at any moment and catch them.
They jogged over to their front steps, and Dex quickly unlocked the door. It was so surreal.
“This is crazy,” Dex said as he scanned their living room before running for the stairs leading up to the bedroom, Sloane on his heels. In their bedroom, Dex gave Sloane a wry grin as he pointed. “Oh look, TIN got to see the wet towel you always leave on the bed.”
Crap. It wasn’t bad enough Sloane always forgot the damn towel; apparently, now there were witnesses.
“Sorry,” Sloane said as he walked over to the bed to pick up the towel.
“What are you doing?” Dex asked, amused.
“Shit. Right. Covert operation.” He dropped the towel back on the bed. “This whole thing is messing with my head.” He joined Dex at the closet as Dex pulled out the locked weapons and ammunitions crate they had stored in there. It used to just be a small case with a couple of Glocks, but after all the craziness they’d been through, they’d agreed an upgrade was in order. The crate was programmed to open with a thumbprint from Dex or Sloane only. Inside were several different firearms, tranq guns, zip ties, ammunitions, and more. Dex checked the magazine to his Glock and frowned.
“Fuck.”
“What is it?” Sloane asked, picking up one of the tranq guns.
“I can’t believe we’re going to break into our neighbors’ homes.”
Sloane shook his head. “We can’t shoot that.”
Dex blinked at him. “Why?”
“Because someone will hear and call it in.”
Dex peered at him. “So, we’re supposed to break into our very possibly armed neighbors’ homes, face an ‘enemy agent,’ not blow our cover, and all in less than an hour, without firing a shot?”
Sloane nodded.
“Fuck. This is why we need silencers,” Dex muttered.
“Why would we need silencers?”
“Because of this right here.”
“This right here has never happened before, so there was never any need for silencers.”
Dex threw up a hand. “And look how well that’s turned out.”
“Oh my God, seriously? Babe, we have less than an hour or we fail our first fake operation.”
“Shit. Okay, stock up on tranqs, then. You take this end of the street, I’ll start at the other end.” Dex put in an earpiece and handed Sloane the other. “Stay in communication, and be safe.” Dex kissed Sloane before hurrying off. Sloane called out behind him.
“You too.” Sloane shoved some Therian-strength zip ties into his pockets. He left the house, noticing Dex was nowhere to be seen. With his gun tucked in the back of his waistband, covered by his shirt, Sloane closed the front door of their house and discreetly scanned the street of their quiet little West Village neighborhood. No one was outside, and no movement caught his eye. The end of the block was a completely different story. Their house was only four buildings down from the corner of a typical busy New York City street intersection. There were people walking, riding bikes, milling about, waiting for their burgers at Five Guys or heading into the pizza place across the street.