Something Dangerous

by Zaz LaMarr

Casey paused behind the tightly packed clothes bar, breath expelled and eyes closed, listening for the smallest sound from the other side of the closet door. Nothing. She forced an opening with one arm and pushed her way through. Tugging her Elie Tahari tweed jacket back into place, she paused for another reccy. Still quiet.

She reached for the doorknob. Three gunshots, in quick succession, made her heart jump in her chest. She drew back, her weapon drawn and ready, without consciously thinking about it. The shots weren't close enough to be in the bedroom on the other side of the door. Her instinct told her to ease the door open and have a look around. She blew out a breath.

Follow the Guidelines...damn it anyway. She forced herself to retreat backward through the hanging clothes, careful that nothing was dislodged to give away her position. When she heard the door out in the bedroom slam against the wall, she stepped quickly back and into the adjoining room and drew the panel after her.

She closed it as fast as she could without making a noise, hoping to secure it before whoever was in that bedroom looked in the closet. No such luck. Just before she had it completely closed, a sudden burst of light told her the closet door had been pulled open. Pressing the panel shut with a soft click, Casey braced her back against the adjacent wall, gun up, ready to confront the intruder, if he or she managed to figure out the release on the other side.

Adrenaline zinged through her. She drew a centering breath and let it out slowly. It was too quiet. Should I stay, or should I get the hell out of here? Damn the Guidelines! The decision was taken out of her hands when the wall panel was thrown open and a meaty hand, clutching a gun, was thrust through. Your mistake, Bucko.

Casey's professional look:
Tweed with suede

Going undercover can get uncomfortabe for an ex-Jesuit, when there's so little coverage.