What the Hell? I hadn’t been that fast when I’d gone through the vault.
“Wanta bet?”
Yeah. Thanks, Rohan.
“Any time. Now, hold still.”
Like I had a choice. I couldn’t move a muscle, and that was a good thing. These boys were thorough... and had no sense of propriety. My dress was unseamed by a knife half the length of my forearm, with a broad, sharp-edged blade that went through the material like butter.
“Sorry, m’lady,” the guard muttered, “but, seeing as it’s ruined, anyhow...”
He stopped, his words tapering off into a whistle. The sound brought his captain hurrying over, and the man seemed more than pleased with what they’d uncovered.
“My, my, my,” he said. “Now that is quite an arsenal, isn’t it?”
I didn’t say a word—but not because I didn’t want to. There was plenty I wanted to say, starting with what I thought about them taking apart my dress, and Rohan made sure not a word of it escaped.
“Wow, Cutter! That’s pretty creative. Even for you.”
And, now, I wanted to smack him, as well.
“You and whose army?” he challenged, and he sounded so much like me that he stopped me in my tracks.
I decided to ignore him, and concentrated on what was happening, as the captain supervised the search. He’d ordered a box be brought, and his men were busy unholstering, unstrapping, and, in general, removing all the toys I’d brought along to make me feel happier about wearing a dress and pretending to be Mack’s wife.
Since my head was still turned towards him, I was able to see when he looked over at me, eyebrows raised in askance.
“Would it be that bad?” he asked, eyeing the growing arsenal in the box.
Fortunately, the captain interrupted before I had a chance to answer—and he didn’t even know he was doing it, since Mack had been speaking direct to the implant.
“Boots,” the captain demanded, and Rohan released my head so I could turn towards him.
“What?”
Rohan had also released enough of me that I could speak.
“Lift your foot. We need to check your boots.”
Well, Hells yes, they did, but that didn’t mean I had to feel any better about it.
Of course, the captain took my hesitation the wrong way.
“You either lift your foot, or we cut them off,” and, since he was holding a knife that would do it, I figured he meant what he said.
All I could hope was that Rohan would let me do what I was asked.
“How much do you like your boots?” he asked, mischief running through his tones.
Lucky for him, Tens was ready to intervene.
“Rohan.”
“Fine.”
And my foot lifted as requested. Without my control. The captain slipped the boot off my foot, but instead of removing the blade from the sheath inside it, he put the whole thing in the box.
“Hey!”
He looked up.
“You don’t need your boots in order to be able to eat dinner,” he said.
Well, yeah... I knew that, but I also knew that footwear was the first thing you removed from a prisoner to make it harder for them to escape...or fight back, since a bare foot didn’t have quite the same impact as combat boot.
“Other foot.”
That one lifted, too, as much as I didn’t want it to.
“Better than having it sliced up,” Rohan reminded me, and I sighed.
“It’s not that bad, Cutter.”
Easy for Mack to say. It looked like they were letting him keep his boots.
“I don’t hide pointy objects in mine.”
Man didn’t have to sound so smug about it.
“Maybe you should try it some time.”
Which begged the question: Why had the guards decided they needed to check my boots, or even look under the dress? Okay, so looking under the dress had probably been a given, since I already had a reputation in the house, but the boots? I didn’t remember using the knives there, the last time I’d been here, so how had they known?
The answer came as the captain straightened up and signaled one of his men forward. This guard was holding the black handle of an inch-thick silver rod in one hand, and listening intently to whatever was coming in over his earpiece. He stopped a few feet from where I stood, his head canted sideways as he took in whatever was said, and then he looked up at me.
“Stand still,” he said, and lifted the rod, extending it towards me.
I stood still, watching as he held the rod horizontal and moved it, slowly and carefully, parallel to my body.
“Nice!” Case murmured, the word barely louder than a breath. “Very nice.”
It just looked like a fancy scanner to me.
“Nah, it’s going deep enough that they don’t need to do a cavity search,” she said, and I didn’t know whether to be relieved or outraged.
Talk about your invasion of privacy.
“Talk about it all you like, kiddo, but be grateful not to have given these guys the excuse.”
Now that she mentioned it...
“She’s clean.”
Well, duh. It’s not like I’d have hidden anything I couldn’t get to in a fight... and I’d had a quick release option for the skirt sewn into the bodice to ensure it. It was just a pity these clowns hadn’t thought to look for it, before slicing the gown apart. At least I wouldn’t have to walk ‘like a lady’ anymore; I could go right back to moving like I usually did. You know, like I was looking for trouble, and hoping it would find me.
“If you’d come this way...” Captain Foksall asked.
He made it sound like an invitation, but Mack and I both understood it for the order it was. I lowered my arms, watching as they bundled up the remains of my dress and stuffed it into the box on top of all the rest. The captain caught the direction of my gaze.
“You’ll get everything back when you leave,” he said, and I wished I could believe him.
“I’ll track where they put it,” Case told me, then added, “Don’t worry. You’ll get your boots back.”
“Why bother?” Tens
