“I want to use something bigger today.”
Curt arches a brow. “Feeling brave, are you?”
“I’ve been using this small 9mm. Shane upgraded me to it a few days ago. And I’m sure it’s appropriate for me, but I want to try something a little…beefier.”
“The sidearm that Shane assigned to you is perfect for you, and I’ll tell you why. It’s slim and perfect for the size of your hands. It’s easy for you to manipulated and control. But it’s a 9mm so the bullets are lethal. You have a lot of power in that weapon. If you start shooting something bigger, you run the risk of hurting yourself because it’ll be more difficult to handle. And if you were ever confronted, it could be easier for the assailant to get it away from you.
“So, this is what you should master. Personally, I think you should carry two of them. One at the small of your back, and a clutch piece on your ankle.”
“Wow. You really know this stuff.”
“It was my job for a long time. And, no, I’m not going to talk about it.”
“Killjoy.”
He laughs at that and hangs a target for me, then sends it down the lane.
“Okay, using the weapon assigned to you, let’s see what you’ve got.”
* * *
“I can admit when I’m wrong,” I say as I finish reloading my weapon and tuck it into the small of my back. “You’re right, this is the right size for me.”
“It’s good that we had you try a couple of others. You never know when you might have to pick up a discarded weapon and use it.”
“I don’t plan to go to war.”
“No one does.” He smiles thinly. “You’ll be prepared for anything. That’s not a bad thing.”
“No, I suppose not.”
We’ve just started to shut down the range when sirens start.
“Fuck,” Curt says sharply and opens his phone. “We’ve been breached again.”
“Oh, my God. Maybe it’s Shane.”
“Not Shane.” His face is grim as he looks up at me. “There are several men, all in military gear. I’m not going to lie to you, Ivie. This isn’t good. I want you to go through that door and take the tunnel to the bunker.”
“I can help you.”
“No.” He shakes his head in frustration as he hurries back into the vault. I’m on his heels as he takes weapons out of cases, loads them, and stuffs his pockets with ammo. He tucks a knife into his pants, a small pistol at his ankle. He looks like Rambo. “You absolutely cannot. You’re trained to protect yourself, not infiltrate. So, listen to me very carefully. You take that tunnel to the bunker, and you sit tight. You do not come out until someone comes for you.”
“But—”
He’s looking down at his phone as he types furiously. “I’ve just alerted Shane. I hope he’s not out there in this mess. I mean it, Ivie. Stay in the bunker until someone comes to you. If it’s a bad guy, you shoot them. Do you understand? Don’t hesitate.”
“I won’t.” I hurry to him and hug him hard. Curt stiffens. “Be smart out there.”
“Get to the bunker,” he says again, and then he’s gone. The door locks behind him, and I take a second to breathe long and deep.
Curt’s out there, but he’s armed to the gills.
I have two sidearms on me, and I open the vault to get more ammo, lock it behind me, and then do as I’m told and hurry through the tunnel.
Shane was smart enough to show me a map of the tunnel system down here and insisted I study it.
I’m so glad he did because it’s not just one tunnel. I remember him telling me that there are tunnels to the main house, Curt’s cabin, and the barn.
But I stay to the right, remembering the map, and am suddenly at a door. I open it, lights automatically come on, and I’m in the bunker.
I lock the door behind me and check the locks to the outside, and then I immediately look around for monitors.
Shane wouldn’t hole up down here without being able to see what’s happening above. I find a bathroom, the two bedrooms, and then stare at a small door that looks like it goes to a tiny closet.
“You disguised it.” My heart is hammering when I open the narrow door and grin. I flip the lights on and sigh in relief.
It’s a smaller version of the 007 room. I flip on computers and monitors and sigh in relief when the same cameras come to life.
“Oh, fuck.” I lean in, watching in horror as at least a dozen men walk through the property, all on different monitors. “They’ve spread out. My God, it looks like an army.”
It’s not. A dozen men do not make an army, but it looks damn scary to me.
“There’s Curt.” I cover my mouth with my hand and watch as Curt sneaks up behind a man dressed in all black. With the swipe of an arm, he cuts the man’s throat wide-open as if he’s cutting through warm butter. I gasp and watch as the dead man falls at Curt’s feet, and then Curt narrows his eyes and looks to his right.