Page 21 of Lyon

Lyon

“Damn,how many guards are in this prison?” Cyclone muttered under his breath. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many clustered together. There’s no way they’re all here for just the two guys we came to get. Someone important must be inside.”

I nodded, scanning the facility. “You think this is about the same guy our SEALs were sent to rescue? If they got caught trying to extract him, are they locked in with him, or did they get killed in the process?”

Raven let out a low breath. “That’s the real question. How the hell do we get in there to find out?”

“I’m working on it,” I whispered. “First, we need guard uniforms. That’s our ticket inside.”

“And where exactly are we supposed to find those?” Farron asked, skeptical.

I smirked. “We find the laundry room.”

Farron scoffed. “And how do we do that when it’s inside the prison?”

I shook my head. “Prisoners’ uniforms might be cleaned on-site, but the guards? No way. They’d send theirs out to a cleaner,either hiring someone or taking them into town. We need to find a local cleaner and casually ask if they handle the guards’ laundry.”

Cyclone nodded. “Makes sense. Let’s find the uniforms, then we’ll come back and see who they’re guarding. The upside? With this many guards, slipping inside unnoticed will be easier than we thought.”

“Easier?” I huffed. “We need to be careful. If they’re expecting more Americans trying to rescue those three, they’ll be on high alert.”

We’d secured a vehicle earlier to blend in with the locals, making it easier to move around unnoticed. Each time we spotted a cleaner’s shop, we stopped and checked it out. The first two were dead ends. The third? Jackpot.

Through the back window, I spotted five freshly pressed uniforms hanging in the rear of the shop. We circled around, checking for an entrance, and sure enough—there was a back door.

Cyclone, being the only one who spoke the language fluently, went inside alone. The rest of us waited in the vehicle. A few minutes later, he walked out—with his arm wrapped around a woman. Before I could process what was happening, he leaned down and kissed her. She giggled, then ran back inside.

I raised an eyebrow. “What the hell was that about?”

Cyclone slid into the car, tossing the uniforms into the back. “Sometimes, you have to sweet-talk people to get what you need.” He exhaled sharply. “Also helps when the woman is the owner’s wife.”

I frowned. “Wait, what?”

“She wanted me to follow her into the back room so I could ‘pleasure her.’ Her words, not mine. Apparently, her husband only married her to get control of her father’s cleaning businesses. He doesn’t touch her—saves that for his mistress.”

“Did she actually tell you all that?”

“Oh, yeah. Whispered it right in my ear while grabbing my crotch and trying to get my zipper down.” He shuddered in disgust. “It was either let her believe I’d come back later or cause a scene and risk blowing our cover.”

I chuckled. “So, did you promise her a romantic rendezvous?”

Cyclone shot me a glare. “Let’s just say I won’t be stopping by anytime soon. Now, let’s get the hell out of here.”

The uniforms were... less than ideal.

“These are tight as hell,” Farron grumbled, shifting uncomfortably.

Cyclone rolled his eyes. “Be grateful. If you want a bigger size, feel free to march back in there and ask her to measure you.”

I smirked. “What time’s the shift change?”

“We’ve got two hours,” Cyclone replied. “But we need weapons. Where are we getting those?”

“We take them,” I said simply.

Raven gave me a skeptical look. “You make it sound easy.”

“Because it is. We walk up to a couple of guards, pretend we’re one of them, knock them out, take their weapons, and tie them up. Then we get the captives out of there and head home.”

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