“Behind the bar.”
“Is that safe?”
“Not for anyone trying to stick up my bar.”
“Just stay aware, will you?”
Seamus sighed like a teenager submitting to a scolding. “Don’t worry. I promise to keep my bloodshot eyes peeled.”
“Great. I feel better already.”
Seamus’ voice dropped to a more serious tone. “If she’s coming after anyone, it’s you and Charlotte.”
“I’m aware. Charlotte’s staying at my house for the storm. I’m hoping by the time this passes Jamie will have, too. If she’s even here. Who knows.”
“Do you need any other equipment?”
Declan closed the safe. “I’ve been thinking about that. I’d like to shore up the house a bit. Some trip wire alarms maybe...”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.” Declan looked around, though he knew the only other person with a key was Blade, and that man was much too large to hide. “I’m alone.”
Seamus dropped to a whisper. “There’s a room in the shop where I keep some things.”
“What?”
“It’s behind the s-a-f-e.”
Declan rolled his eyes. “Are you under the impression a five-year-old might be listening? I’m pretty sure everyone else knows how to spell.”
Seamus ignored him. “Reach into the safe, there’s a false back in the upper right held in place with a screw. There should be a screwdriver in there.”
“There used to be. I couldn’t figure out why it was in there so I took it out.” Declan hadn’t thought twice about moving the screwdriver. Years ago, when Seamus turned the store over to him, he’d found old sticks of pepperoni in the file cabinets and toothpicks in the register. A screwdriver in the safe hadn’t been a shock.
“Go find it and loosen the screw.”
Declan opened the tool drawer behind the counter to retrieve the screwdriver he’d moved. Squatting in front of the safe, he leaned and felt for the screw to unwind it. As it fell, a metal plaque swung down revealing a red button.
“There’s a button,” he said, knowing better than to press it. Push the wrong button and the whole place might explode.
“Push it,” said Seamus.
“You’re sure? You didn’t boobytrap it and forget?”
“Uuuuhhhh...” The word dragged out for a few seconds too long. “No. Pretty sure.”
“Pretty sure.”
“No. It’s already hidden in a safe, what more would I need?”
Declan grimaced.
Here goes nothing.
He pressed a button and something in the wall behind the safe clicked. The safe shifted towards him a few inches, and he scrambled back, unsure where it might be heading. It stopped about four inches, the wall popping out and separating from the trim where a seam in the wall would never be detected.
“Wow,” said Declan, impressed.
“Use the safe to move the whole mess to the side.”
Putting his hands on either side of the safe, he slid it to the left like a barn door. The safe, which looked as if it sat flush on the floor, appeared suspended on a small platform he could glide away to reveal a hidden closet.
A blast of musty air hit his nostrils. It had been a while since anyone entered this secret place.
“Did you get it?” asked Seamus.
“Yes. It’s a little closet with shelves and boxes...” He spotted a large item mounted to the back wall. “Is that a rocket launcher?”
“Probably. I don’t remember exactly what I left in there. Fun stuff.”
Declan stepped inside, scanning the shelves for useful things. “How come you never told me about this?”
“Eh. I forgot about it. I’m going to get back to my party. Let me know if you need any help.”
“Right. Try not to get into too much trouble, will you? I don’t need to worry about you, too.”
Seamus laughed. “No one ever needs to worry about me, Boyo.”
Declan hung up and jerked a string dangling at eye-level to illuminate the bare bulb above his head. He slid the door shut, careful to first check the inside latch and ensure he could open it again. Windows lined the front of the shop; he didn’t want anyone peering inside to see the secret room, but he also didn’t want to have to shoot his way out after getting stuck. After opening and closing the door a few times he closed it tight, so from the shop side the safe would look as it always did, pressed against the wall and flush on the floor.
He stared at the boxes of weapons, suffering an uncomfortable flashback. He’d been an angry young man after his mother went missing, never to return. His father had already been out of the picture for years. No one knew how to reach him. His Uncle Seamus had stepped in to serve as his father, mentor and family, eventually encouraging him to join his government shadow operation to teach him discipline and allow him to expend his anger in productive ways. His childhood girlfriend Stephanie had gone with him, her inherited bloodlust satiated by the missions.
For a while their lives had been exhilarating, but he’d eventually lost his taste for never-ending wars.
It hadn’t helped that Stephanie cheated on him with one of their captains.
Still young and foolish, he’d begged Stephanie to leave with him. She stayed. Later they reconnected on and off, always with disastrous results. Only recently, had it seemed she might find a way to settle.
Now, Jamie was back to drag her under again.
Maybe.
But now wasn’t the time to worry about Stephanie. Now, he had to protect Charlotte. Charlotte with her good heart, strong will and sharp mind. Charlotte who showed him love didn’t have to be torture.
He scanned the shelves and gathered together things he thought might be useful. Nothing proved high tech. It had clearly been a decade since Seamus added anything to his collection.
Thinking it over, he decided perimeter tripwires seemed like a bad idea with a hurricane coming. A tree branch could
