Page 283 of The Reluctant Hero

Heretic slides out from behind the curtains farther in the room and fires, striking the man in the head. He calmly continues forward, checking the body by pulling it out of the way. Before he can move, Gabriel runs past him, descending the steps like a madman.

61

Laid to Rest

Amanda

Grabbing my shoe is somehow a victory for me. So is snatching up the money and my sock to stuff in my pocket. They took these things from me, simple though they are, and thought they could get away with it. Score one for the home team. Escape partially complete.

Then I take in the horror around me and feel bile rising.

I think I killed them. No one is moving, and there’s a lot of blood everywhere. For a second, instinct takes over, my hand reaching for my phone to call an ambulance. Reality rushes back in a sickening tide when I realize Brass still has it. Before my internal meltdown can begin, my own voice circles around in my head.

“Don’t back down no matter how it feels. You can regroup when you’re safe.”

Taking my own advice has never been less welcome.

I want to go home. I want that kiss from Ace. My yelling at Gabriel has turned into a need to be in his arms. I need Jake to pout over the fact he hasn’t put a tracker on me. Tell Cade I told you so with a smug expression. Mikael can pamper me while I do it.

I take a long breath in and start moving.

From the doorway, I can see how well-lit the hallway is. The air isn’t damp or chilly, stuck at a warm, comfortable temperature. I bet that bill sucks.

The golf course wasn’t ready. This one looks like it’s up and running.

My stomach rolls.

I can see several doors, similar to this room’s. The hallway on either side of me dead-ends into a turn.

“Left or right,” I glance either way.

“I always turn left and follow the walls in dungeons.”

Jake’s absent voice attacks my brain, and my feet start moving again.

I turn the corner to see more doors and a wider area past them with stairs leading up. At least they aren’t going down.

This place is different. I’m not going to know this layout.

I can’t hear anything. I’m not sure if it’s soundproofing or if no one is around. Four guys grabbed me. Three are back in that room. One is running like I’m a slasher walking to catch up with him.

“Stop fucking around,” I growl to myself in frustration and march to the stairs. The sound of my footsteps echoes around me. I start moving more gingerly after that. No sense in announcing my ass is coming.

The steps end at the stage area. Everything is different. The seating is more movie theater instead of flat flooring. They got more creative. There are definite signs that this bunker is in use. There are a few pieces of trash and an ashtray with cigarette butts. The way this is set up it seems more like an auction house instead of a strip club. The implication makes me gag.

There might be innocent people here.

I instinctively turn to go back and pause.

What good am I going to do anyone if they’re here? I don’t have a magic key to release them. The worst thing I could do is find them. It would only amp them up for a rescue. If I don’t make it out of here to get help, how bad will that crush them?

That cold rage takes over as I march forward.

It doesn’t matter if I give them hope. They need it. Wealldo.

And I’m a fucking Jefferson.

I hurry back to the room they had me in and search the pockets of dead men. I don’t find anything but my gag reflex as I search.

---