Daniel “Cruiser” Stone stood in front of the reception desk with his hip leaning against the counter. Waiting. Waiting and not drumming his fingers as the woman in front of him chewed on her bubble gum and again informed him of how he was not, in fact, on the list of approved people to gain admittance. Okay, fine. She wasn’t actually chewing bubble gum, but she might as well have been. Her long brown hair was tied into pigtails on the sides of her head for God’s sake. She looked like a girl scout, not the gatekeeper for the man who developed some of the most deadly weapons in the world.
“I’m sorry Mr. . . .” Samantha Frost looked at the badge clipped to his chest. “Walker, but there’s no record of you being on Mr. Tyrell’s security team.”
No shit. Before he had a chance to respond, a voice was squeaking through the intercom. “Ms. Frost!”
Ms. Frost, entirely suiting if you heard the tale from Cruiser’s teammates. The experts at the tag team cons, who gloated about being able to get anywhere that one shouldn’t, couldn’t, or weren’t allowed to be, had been sent back to the team van less than an hour ago with their tails collectively between their legs. Yeah. Miss Frost and her mad hatter skills had shown them.
“Yes, Mr. Tyrell.” She smiled at Cruiser as she spoke into the intercom.
“I need a blowtorch!”
“Sorry, you aren’t allowed to have one.” Ms. Frost’s eyes never left Cruiser. Almost like she didn’t trust him since he wasn’t on the list. “Not since you set the sprinklers off and flooded the building. The insurance company made you sign an agreement.” A smile flitted across her features before she was back to professional mode.
“What kind of simple-minded assistant can’t even get a welding tool? You’re fired!”
“Sorry.” She was very much not sorry. “You can’t do that either. It’s in my contract. Use the cold chemicals or laser cutters. If that doesn’t work, let me know and I’ll get a welder. Oh! And the cafeteria has banana pudding today.”
Miss My Little Pony glanced at the intercom speaker waiting for a reply from Mr. Tyrell. When it never came, she looked back over to him. Cruiser raised his brow, feigning patience and understanding that came with a deep, exhaustive breath as he channeled some reserve for wading through bullshit. Why the hell couldn’t Chance and Fletcher have figured out how to take care of this chick? It wasn’t hard. Divide and conquer. They did it all the time.
Oh. It was his turn to talk in this little shindig. “All right, I’m not on the list. I talked to Mr. Roach’s HR man last night and he said to report in here for the detail.” He shrugged at her, brow raising like this whole thing was very inconvenient to him. Because it was. “You wanna call my boss, tell him why I’m going home instead of chaperoning your boss?”
“Certainly. I’ll also make sure you’re reimbursed for time and travel expenses.” Phone already in her hand, Frosty was smiling like making calls to excuse strangers from work was her favorite thing to do. Too bad she didn’t realize that she wouldn’t be speaking to Roach’s HR guy. No, Dex had tapped into the phone line a half hour ago, so when she did call, Dex would intercept the call and Wolfgang would get to play HR guy and verify Cruiser’s story.
It was simple really. Annoying, but simple. Like her.
She didn’t dial the phone. Could she not do one damn thing right? She was a receptionist. It was simple job. But no, something else had her attention. And it was making her frown a little—wouldn’t want to mess up that cheerleader perkiness for too long. But when she didn’t take her attention off of the discrete row of monitors on her desk, Cruiser wound up craning his neck enough to catch a glimpse of what had her eye. The private elevator was on its way up, complete with a three man security detail.
Davis, Whalen, and Rutgard.
He recognized their faces and knew their names from the dossiers they’d read two days ago. Security was tight here. Personnel did not show up forty-five minutes early for their shift. He could feel the hair on his arms standing up. The hard metal of his 9mm sitting in the small of his back. The .45 in his shoulder holster. The elevator was behind him, and that needed to change. He inched towards his left so that he could see the screens better and have a shot at the elevator. At the three goons on the potential threat list from two days ago.
And of course, while Cruiser was staring down a serious threat through a television screen, Little Miss Sunshine found her smile again. This time it was the one reserved to politely inform people that they were once again not allowed. He knew. She’d used it on him several times already.
Ding!
The elevator sounded and Samantha was talking before the doors had even fully opened. “You’re early.”
She was observant.
Cruiser was at the far end of the reception desk, his back to Miss Fetch Some Coffee when Davis stepped out, the other two a few paces behind. A perfect, unneeded, military formation that was eating up the distance and covering as much of the oversized reception area as possible.
Without a word, Davis lifted his arm. And without a thought, Cruiser reacted to the gun aimed dead center between Pippi Longstocking’s pigtails. 9mm already in his hand, Cruiser dove in time. His arms wrapping around her waist, body turning, spinning them both around, protecting the stupid woman who had been so startled at the sight of guns that she’d frozen in place like a deer caught in the trance of a megawatt semi truck bearing down on it. His back hit the ground as gunfire echoed all around them, and he scrambled to get his bearings.
Outnumbered, outgunned, and now he was fighting her elbows and knees. “Stay down!” he growled. If they had any chance of getting out of this office alive, he didn’t have time for the hysterical woman routine. A sharp blow to his ribs and Cruiser was swearing, swatting his arm back and shoving the stupid woman away from him.
She scrambled back under her desk, hand slamming against the panic button. Alarms sounding, double thick steel doors crashed down around them, locking Tyrell and his secrets safe inside the lab. Too bad it left them trapped with the Three Stooges militia. Cruiser made it to his knees and fired three rounds, then dropped back down behind the desk. They weren't pretty shots, but it was enough to keep the assholes back and buy him a few seconds.
“It’s locked down!” Davis barked. “Change of plans, keep the girl alive!” At least they were having a bad day too.
“Wolf!” Cruiser yelled into the microphone in his sleeve at the rest of his team. “I got three bogies and they deal in lead!”
“Crap,” Wonder Broad muttered. Yeah, real brain trust here. She was still crouched with her back against the desk. Blinking at him like a mentally challenged fawn, she leaned closer and whispered, “There’s a secret way out.” She pointed at the closet door.
Seriously? A secret way out? That seemed far too simple. But he glanced over at the door before pushing himself back up and firing off another few rounds. The rest of the team would be coming in hot. Two, maybe three minutes out? Suddenly a secret way out sounded great.
“Hey, we don’t give a rat’s ass about you buddy. Give us the girl and you can walk.” Yeah, bullshit. They were buying time.
“Right.” Cruiser fought the urge to roll his eyes. How stupid did they think he was? He could hear two of them moving. These dudes failed Stealth 101, but he couldn’t shoot both of them at once, so it didn’t matter. “Stay where you are, assholes.”
“Or what?” A bullet zipped past them and burrowed into the wall a few feet away. “The whole floor has signal jamming. No one heard your call.” Another shot, closer this time, but not close enough to risk killing Frost. “Now, we can kill you and then take her, or you can hand her over and we give you a head start to the door.”
“You know, I'm liking you less and less. How much you wanna bet I kill at least one of you jerk-offs before you take me out, and I’ll damn sure be aiming for you.”
Davis had stopped moving. Glancing at the reflection in the shiny high gloss marble floor, Cruiser saw the man to his left, a few feet from the desk, getting ready to take aim and step in for the kill.
“Get in the closet.” Cruiser didn’t wait for her to react. She would, and he was moving almost before she was. Rolling onto this stomach, arms extended out, he wrapped himself around the side of the desk and fired. Two quick pulls of the trigger, dead center. The limp meaty thud as the guy hit the ground in a pile confirmed what he already knew.
Moving, Cruiser fired off the last of his clip at the idiot's friends before scrambling towards the closet. She was already there, pulling the door open and getting out of the way inside. Good. He barely made it inside before she hit the “close” button, and the door slammed shut with a pneumatic thud.
“I’m sorry Mr. . . .” Samantha Frost looked at the badge clipped to his chest. “Walker, but there’s no record of you being on Mr. Tyrell’s security team.”
No shit. Before he had a chance to respond, a voice was squeaking through the intercom. “Ms. Frost!”
Ms. Frost, entirely suiting if you heard the tale from Cruiser’s teammates. The experts at the tag team cons, who gloated about being able to get anywhere that one shouldn’t, couldn’t, or weren’t allowed to be, had been sent back to the team van less than an hour ago with their tails collectively between their legs. Yeah. Miss Frost and her mad hatter skills had shown them.
“Yes, Mr. Tyrell.” She smiled at Cruiser as she spoke into the intercom.
“I need a blowtorch!”
“Sorry, you aren’t allowed to have one.” Ms. Frost’s eyes never left Cruiser. Almost like she didn’t trust him since he wasn’t on the list. “Not since you set the sprinklers off and flooded the building. The insurance company made you sign an agreement.” A smile flitted across her features before she was back to professional mode.
“What kind of simple-minded assistant can’t even get a welding tool? You’re fired!”
“Sorry.” She was very much not sorry. “You can’t do that either. It’s in my contract. Use the cold chemicals or laser cutters. If that doesn’t work, let me know and I’ll get a welder. Oh! And the cafeteria has banana pudding today.”
Miss My Little Pony glanced at the intercom speaker waiting for a reply from Mr. Tyrell. When it never came, she looked back over to him. Cruiser raised his brow, feigning patience and understanding that came with a deep, exhaustive breath as he channeled some reserve for wading through bullshit. Why the hell couldn’t Chance and Fletcher have figured out how to take care of this chick? It wasn’t hard. Divide and conquer. They did it all the time.
Oh. It was his turn to talk in this little shindig. “All right, I’m not on the list. I talked to Mr. Roach’s HR man last night and he said to report in here for the detail.” He shrugged at her, brow raising like this whole thing was very inconvenient to him. Because it was. “You wanna call my boss, tell him why I’m going home instead of chaperoning your boss?”
“Certainly. I’ll also make sure you’re reimbursed for time and travel expenses.” Phone already in her hand, Frosty was smiling like making calls to excuse strangers from work was her favorite thing to do. Too bad she didn’t realize that she wouldn’t be speaking to Roach’s HR guy. No, Dex had tapped into the phone line a half hour ago, so when she did call, Dex would intercept the call and Wolfgang would get to play HR guy and verify Cruiser’s story.
It was simple really. Annoying, but simple. Like her.
She didn’t dial the phone. Could she not do one damn thing right? She was a receptionist. It was simple job. But no, something else had her attention. And it was making her frown a little—wouldn’t want to mess up that cheerleader perkiness for too long. But when she didn’t take her attention off of the discrete row of monitors on her desk, Cruiser wound up craning his neck enough to catch a glimpse of what had her eye. The private elevator was on its way up, complete with a three man security detail.
Davis, Whalen, and Rutgard.
He recognized their faces and knew their names from the dossiers they’d read two days ago. Security was tight here. Personnel did not show up forty-five minutes early for their shift. He could feel the hair on his arms standing up. The hard metal of his 9mm sitting in the small of his back. The .45 in his shoulder holster. The elevator was behind him, and that needed to change. He inched towards his left so that he could see the screens better and have a shot at the elevator. At the three goons on the potential threat list from two days ago.
And of course, while Cruiser was staring down a serious threat through a television screen, Little Miss Sunshine found her smile again. This time it was the one reserved to politely inform people that they were once again not allowed. He knew. She’d used it on him several times already.
Ding!
The elevator sounded and Samantha was talking before the doors had even fully opened. “You’re early.”
She was observant.
Cruiser was at the far end of the reception desk, his back to Miss Fetch Some Coffee when Davis stepped out, the other two a few paces behind. A perfect, unneeded, military formation that was eating up the distance and covering as much of the oversized reception area as possible.
Without a word, Davis lifted his arm. And without a thought, Cruiser reacted to the gun aimed dead center between Pippi Longstocking’s pigtails. 9mm already in his hand, Cruiser dove in time. His arms wrapping around her waist, body turning, spinning them both around, protecting the stupid woman who had been so startled at the sight of guns that she’d frozen in place like a deer caught in the trance of a megawatt semi truck bearing down on it. His back hit the ground as gunfire echoed all around them, and he scrambled to get his bearings.
Outnumbered, outgunned, and now he was fighting her elbows and knees. “Stay down!” he growled. If they had any chance of getting out of this office alive, he didn’t have time for the hysterical woman routine. A sharp blow to his ribs and Cruiser was swearing, swatting his arm back and shoving the stupid woman away from him.
She scrambled back under her desk, hand slamming against the panic button. Alarms sounding, double thick steel doors crashed down around them, locking Tyrell and his secrets safe inside the lab. Too bad it left them trapped with the Three Stooges militia. Cruiser made it to his knees and fired three rounds, then dropped back down behind the desk. They weren't pretty shots, but it was enough to keep the assholes back and buy him a few seconds.
“It’s locked down!” Davis barked. “Change of plans, keep the girl alive!” At least they were having a bad day too.
“Wolf!” Cruiser yelled into the microphone in his sleeve at the rest of his team. “I got three bogies and they deal in lead!”
“Crap,” Wonder Broad muttered. Yeah, real brain trust here. She was still crouched with her back against the desk. Blinking at him like a mentally challenged fawn, she leaned closer and whispered, “There’s a secret way out.” She pointed at the closet door.
Seriously? A secret way out? That seemed far too simple. But he glanced over at the door before pushing himself back up and firing off another few rounds. The rest of the team would be coming in hot. Two, maybe three minutes out? Suddenly a secret way out sounded great.
“Hey, we don’t give a rat’s ass about you buddy. Give us the girl and you can walk.” Yeah, bullshit. They were buying time.
“Right.” Cruiser fought the urge to roll his eyes. How stupid did they think he was? He could hear two of them moving. These dudes failed Stealth 101, but he couldn’t shoot both of them at once, so it didn’t matter. “Stay where you are, assholes.”
“Or what?” A bullet zipped past them and burrowed into the wall a few feet away. “The whole floor has signal jamming. No one heard your call.” Another shot, closer this time, but not close enough to risk killing Frost. “Now, we can kill you and then take her, or you can hand her over and we give you a head start to the door.”
“You know, I'm liking you less and less. How much you wanna bet I kill at least one of you jerk-offs before you take me out, and I’ll damn sure be aiming for you.”
Davis had stopped moving. Glancing at the reflection in the shiny high gloss marble floor, Cruiser saw the man to his left, a few feet from the desk, getting ready to take aim and step in for the kill.
“Get in the closet.” Cruiser didn’t wait for her to react. She would, and he was moving almost before she was. Rolling onto this stomach, arms extended out, he wrapped himself around the side of the desk and fired. Two quick pulls of the trigger, dead center. The limp meaty thud as the guy hit the ground in a pile confirmed what he already knew.
Moving, Cruiser fired off the last of his clip at the idiot's friends before scrambling towards the closet. She was already there, pulling the door open and getting out of the way inside. Good. He barely made it inside before she hit the “close” button, and the door slammed shut with a pneumatic thud.