“Cutting the silent alarm for it… now,” Seth says, and her brows rise.
“Never realized there was an alarm on it. Guess that’s why it’s called a silent one.” She shrugs. “I have to take one of the golf carts to the front of the building. Watch out for the valets when you see me open the door. They’re trained security personnel who keep an eye out back here,” she warns.
“Got it,” I say. “And Heather?” I catch her arm before she gets out of her car, and she looks at me. “Thank you again. You’re the real hero here.”
“I believe it’s heroine, Dr. Walker. Your Astrid taught me that when she was telling me about a book I might like. I just thought she was talking about the main character having a drug problem, but she set me straight.” She winks, and I can’t help but smile. “See y’all in a few,” she says, and she hops out, slams her door, and tosses her purse up on her shoulder as she hurries to the line of golf carts at the front of the lot.
“That window,” Brian says, leaning forward to look out the windshield as he points. “It’s in the attic that takes up the entire top level of the house. The surveillance feed shows it’s completely dark, using the night-vision cameras. I’ll come through there and lure any and all security away from the second level so Doc and Sarge can head up using the elevator near the kitchen, which isn’t too far from the dressing room. That way you aren’t trying to sneak up these big, open staircases for all to see.”
“Right now, there’s a guard at the top of the elevator, but not at the bottom where we’ll enter. There are two guards posted at the bottom of each of the two staircases and one walking the second-floor hallway. There are other guards throughout the first floor in each of the different clubs, so let’s keep this stealthy so we don’t draw any unnecessary attention,” Seth says.
Corbin reaches behind his back and pulls his pistol around, checking the chamber. He reaches into his boot, pulling out a black metal cylinder and twisting it onto the end of his gun. It’s not hard to imagine he was a sniper in the army for years, his hands steady, not an ounce of emotion on his face as he sets up his silencer. “Plan A: Astrid is in the dance club and hasn’t been seen by this fuckstick yet. We grab her and leave. We’ll take care of him later and make it look like Karma did her job. Plan B: He’s seen her. We let him take her where he’s gonna take her, away from the crowd, and we bust in and grab her before he has a chance to hurt her. We’ll play the rest of that scenario by ear. Plan C: He’s already taken her somewhere and we have to find them. Sounds like this fucker would want to enjoy his victim for a while, so no matter what we find, I’m a hundred and ten percent positive she’ll be alive, so get that worry out of your head right the fuck now, Doc.”
My eyes lift to his from where they’ve been watching him load bullets into two more magazines and then turn to Brian when he speaks.
“You’ve never been on a mission with us before, Doc. We’ve got this. You know you can trust us to get our girl out of this safely. In fact, I know you’re going to tell me to fuck off when I suggest this, but if you want to wait here while we run in and take care of this, none of us will bat an eyelash. You took an oath to do no harm. That’s why you’ve got us.” His face is serious, his eyes imploring me to stay here, I’m sure to keep me out of the way so I don’t fuck up their mission. But I fucking can’t. There’s no way I can just sit back and let my team rescue my woman when she’s in danger.
“You’re right. Fuck off,” I tell him, giving him a half-smile.
Seth shakes his head, his eyes never leaving his laptop screen. “If y’all couldn’t keep my nerdy behind-the-scenes ass in the car when Twyla got taken, did you really think you’d keep Thor out of the way of saving his girl?” he prompts.
“Thor?” Corbin asks, raising a brow as he looks from Seth to me.
“Oh, y’all haven’t heard Astrid talk to him on speakerphone, apparently. Docky-poo has a new nickname given to him from his ‘goddess,’” he says, air quoting with one hand for a second before going back to typing a mile a minute.
“And what’s that?” Brian asks, a smirk forming on his lips.