Iris (Mike Bravo Ops 1)

Not it either.

Okay, I’ll go back and see how bad the fault in the wall is, and maybe the store down the street has something that I can go buy to fix it.

As I go back downstairs and get closer to it, I realize it’s not what it first seemed. It’s not a fault but a hidden compartment. I pull the panel off the wall and find a Glock. I huff a laugh.

I wish I could say there’s a voice in my head saying not to cross boundaries, but I’ve found one hiding spot, and now I want to find them all.

With the exception of Iris’s gun room, I go around the house and try to find every concealed weapon I can, but in my excitement, I kind of, maybe, sort of, forget where everything goes.

Weapons from guns to ammo to knives begin to pile up on the dining table. He has something hidden in every damn room.

I feel like a kid on an Easter egg hunt, and now that I’ve started, there’s no stopping me.

Right up until I find a hidden panel in Iris’s bed.

As I stare down at the dildo that’s lying right next to a Sig Sauer pistol and a bottle of lube, the reality of my snooping hits me in the face like a bucket of cold water.

I’m both horrified and turned on by this drawer.

“I don’t think that’s really safe,” I say to myself as I have images of Iris reaching for the dildo and grabbing the gun instead.

Ouch.

“Thanks for the tip.”

I jump at Iris’s voice, who’s leaning against the doorjamb to his room. “Fuck! When did you get home?”

“Just now. I can see you’ve been busy.”

“I meant to put it all back. It started as a game … sort of. I found one and then … I … umm, it might have got out of hand.”

He full-on laughs now. “I saw your stash on my dining table. I have nothing to hide, so I don’t really care, but, uh, yeah, that drawer? Why do I get the feeling you weren’t trying to find my weapons?”

“I was. But I didn’t think. I just … I wasn’t thinking.”

“Mm.” Iris drops his duffle bag and stalks toward me. “I bet you were. I bet you wanted to find out if what I said about owning a ball gag was true.”

“Okay, I wasn’t, but now I am.”

Iris keeps advancing on me until he’s almost pressed against me. Instead of going for the drawer with the gun, however, he reaches for the bedside table—a nonhidden compartment. He slides it open slowly, and as much as I tell myself not to look, I can’t help it.

My eyes widen at the range of sex toys, lube … so much fucking lube, and condoms.

“Here it is.” He whips out a ball gag.

My mouth opens to say something, but all that comes out is a nonsensical noise.

I try again. “Did you run out of room in that drawer? What’s with the dildo, gun, and travel lube in the hidden bed panel?”

“That’s my emergency dildo.”

I blink at him. And then again. “Your … emergency dildo.”

“Yeah. What if I get robbed and they take the big drawer of sex toys? Or what if someone finds out where I live and they try to kill me, and somehow my bedside table gets blown up?”

“Umm, then I’d say the last thing you’d be worried about is getting off?”

“Wow. We do not have the same priorities.”

“I … umm. I’m scared of this conversation now. I’m gonna …” I point my thumb toward the door.

“I was looking forward to a nice hot shower and a nap, but I guess the rest of my day will be spent rehiding every gun and knife I own?”

“Sorry.” I’m not really sorry.

“No, you’re not.”

I hate how he can read me but also love it at the same time. “Also, what is in your cupboard in the kitchen? It’s locked, and I decided that picking it was crossing privacy boundaries.”

“Good to know. Apparently to keep you out of my stuff, I need locks on everything.”

“To be fair, I think it would be safer to have locks on your guns,” I mumble.

“It’s not like I have kids running around.”

“What’s in the cupboard?” I whine.

“I’ll show you.” He dawdles down the hall, and I push him to hurry up because I’ve seen a lot of shit today, and I think it’s only about to get weirder.

But then he unlocks the padlock with a combination and opens the door without a care in the world. And when I see rows and rows of the same kind of rations Trav has in his bomb shelter, I’m confused even more.

Iris shrugs. “I get lazy sometimes. Keeping the lock on the door means I don’t dip into my emergency rations.”

I’m stunned into silence. “You …” I close my mouth. Then open it again. “You keep locks on your food but not on your weapons or sex toys.”