Page 31 of Iron Unicorn

“Why not? I’d have a great time.”

“But I don’t want to just go get caught.”

“But why not? They’re not going to make you exercise when you’re a captive,” I pointed out. “I’m going to have to exercise extra to recover you.”

She blinked, and then her eyes widened. “That had not crossed my mind.”

“There are benefits to being held hostage during scenarios. General laze is one of the benefits.” Aware someone would be jumping out at me, I firmed my grip on my short staff. “If there isn’t a scenario where I’m held hostage and you’re the rescuer, you should request one. If you haven’t done them in a while, they’ll make it easy on you, but it’s a good skill to practice.”

“You just want a chance to be lazy.”

Why hide it from her? She knew me just as well as I knew myself most days. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“I’ll even permit you to wear a suit for the day you’re held captive.”

I questioned what went on in Olivia’s head, but if she wanted to reward me with clothes I found to be comfortable, I would not complain. I paused, regarding my dust-covered jeans and denim shirt. Fortunately for both of us, the weather had been on the cooler side, which spared us from additional misery. “I will admit, if I had done this in a suit, the suit would likely have to be retired.”

“And your jeans and shirt will be fine after a run through the wash. Therearebenefits to casual, Terry. In this case, you’re paying a fraction of the price for a great deal of durability.”

“The suits we use in the RPS are plenty durable. That Armani wouldn’t have lasted twenty minutes out here, though.”

“I mean, it would have done its job, but it never would have been the same.” Olivia caught up to me, and she leaned over to regard one of the rocks up ahead with interest. “Somehow, they fit three of them behind that tiny rock.”

“Cage, shackles, or a ball and chain?”

“Cage. That’ll have less chance of injury, and they can rattle the bars while you watch in amusement. They’re pretty close to the rock, so if you give yourself four feet all around, you’ll catch everyone without risk.”

I tucked the short staff under my arm, deactivated the suppressor, snapped my fingers, and created a birdcage around the waiting RPS agents. As I had a sense of humor and even used it sometimes, I created a fully functional door with a padlock to go with the iron bird perch, water bottle, and food dish I often saw in pet store cages.

They could either practice their lock picking skills or wait for someone to bring bolt cutters. Either way, I’d enjoy listening to their complaints. Once satisfied my work would hold, I transferred the short staff to my right hand, approached the cage, and peered at my hostages, amused to discover I’d gotten Quincy, Eddie, and Carl. Eddie busted a gut laughing while the older agents glowered at me.

“Good effort,” I praised before giving the iron bars a tap with my sneaker as Olivia had barred me from wearing oxfords. Then, realizing I could torment them and get the other agents to play along with it, I deactivated the suppressor long enough to manifest a key for the lock, placing it out of their reach. “I gave you several extra miles, so I think somebody should fetch us some good steaks to have at the campfire tonight.”

Eddie waved his hand in front of his face, regained control of himself, and said, “I told you he’d get tired of us jumping at him.”

Smart man. “I was tired of it after the second time, but you fine folks looked like you needed some exercise, too.”

“I know. Mostly, we were to test your reflexes and observational skills. You passed,” Eddie informed me.

Quincy displayed his middle finger at me, and I grinned at him. “You’re just mad that you didn’t get to ride to the rescue.”

“I mean, while that’s true, a bird cage, Terry?”

“You all seem a bit flighty, jumping at every little thing.”

That got all three of the agents laughing, and pleased with my conquest, I waved and headed along the trail.

Olivia hurried up to follow, and she reported that the victory had gone to me and that the trio might want someone to give them the key to their current prison before the Texas sun roasted them. Her commentary, delivered between guffaws of laughter, made me grin. By the time she finished talking with the RPS agents, we crested the incline. The trail ended at a parking lot where a pair of trailers waited along with a small herd of horses, all of which were saddled and ready to go.

A pair of helmets waited on the decorative fence designed to bar vehicles from accidentally heading down the trail, and Olivia passed me one before shoving the other onto her head. I followed her lead, taking my time with adjusting the straps so the helmet fit well and would do its job in case of a fall.

I spotted the sooty buckskin destined to be Olivia’s horse, and the Akhal-Teke wore a pink bow on her bridle. I could only guess that the next horse, an oddly creamy gray Akhal-Teke with a blue bow, was doomed to put up with me. However, there was a third horse, a golden buckskin Akhal-Teke, with a blue bow nearby. A quick check indicated there were two mares and one stallion.

In good news for us, the stallion behaved himself.

“Texans can’t count, can they?”

Laughing, Olivia shrugged. “Pat honored your request for the sad little filly.” She pointed at the pale horse with a slightly darker mane and tail. “I’m willing to bet you have no idea what color she is.”

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