She nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I—I got it.”
I winked. “Good. I’ll see you soon.”
“You fucking better, Troop.”
The seriousness of her tone pulled the words out of my mouth. “I love you, too, pretty girl.”
Then, I closed the door and didn’t stop until I had that hidden doorway rolled down and armed.
“You ready?” Bury asked as he came up behind me.
I turned toward him. “No one gets in this house while we’re gone, understood?”
Bury nodded. “You sure you don’t want someone posted up here?”
I brushed past him. “Just take up your spot on the porch and stay there. I’ve got everything else handled. Range!”
“You coming or what!?” he called out.
I perched on the banister of the steps and slid down, planting my feet in the middle of the foyer. “One last round before the show starts?”
Range whipped the front door open. “It’s about damn time. Thought you were wanking one out real quick.”
I grinned as I slid past him. “Nah, that’s more Dutch’s thing.”
Ranger chuckled. “Bury! Make sure this door gets closed!”
“On it!” the man called out.
But, as we headed toward our bikes to do one last round through our escape routes, I couldn’t help but look back over my shoulder. Up to the second story. Up to where our princess had been stashed.
Where she waited patiently for our safe return.
26
NAOMI
As I sat back down at the bay window, I planted my feet firmly into the floor. I curled my toes into the plush carpet, trying to ground myself as fear threatened to choke me out. The gun felt heavy in my hand. Even though it was only the size of my palm, it felt as if the weight of the world had been placed against my skin. I hated it. I hated looking at it, I hated clinging to it. And yet, I found myself slipping my trigger finger into the loop against the gun’s boom switch.
“Let’s see how it feels,” I whispered.
I quickly stood to my feet and pointed the gun at the door. It fit the size of my hand perfectly, and it didn’t feel as if I were holding onto any sort of excessive weight. What happened when I pulled the trigger of a gun? What happened whenever it went off?
I whipped around and pointed it at the bathroom door before I debated on whether or not to pull the trigger.
“Maybe a pillow will make it quieter?” I asked.
I leapt onto the bed, forcing my trigger finger to stay put. The more I moved around with it, the more comfortable I became with it, and as I knelt down onto the edge of the pillow, I used both of my hands to aim at its bulging center. I closed one eye and opened it. I closed the other eye and opened it. I watched the gun seemingly switch positions right in front of my stare, and I wondered which one was more accurate.
The left eye being open, or the right.
“Just shoot the pillow,” I whispered.
And yet, I couldn’t. Even though I knew the pillow wasn’t a living thing, nor would it ever hurt me, I found myself unable to trip the trigger. I groaned as I slid off the bed, making sure to keep the gun an ample distance away from my body. I twirled around, dancing on my feet, trying to do anything to familiarize myself with the newfound weight I felt sitting against my palm.
It felt like hours of silence had gone by. Hours of waiting, and tiptoeing around, and holding my breath. Waiting for something to happen.
Then, I heard it.
