Page 34 of Atlas

Agatha shakes her head, waving the gun around. We all duck as one. I throw my hands over my face, my clothes soaked in sweat as those grenades bounce against her chest. “No can do. I’m not leaving here. If you want to keep me safe, you’ll have tobring the fight here. They can come and meet up here for the cash.”

I spread my fingers to peek at Atlas’ face through them. He doesn’t like this at all. Neither do Battle Axe or Odin. The three of them exchange loaded looks.

“We’re going to have to call this in,” Battle Axe sighs. “But maybe we can make that work.”

“Let me help you out of that vest,” Odin pleads, edging closer to Agatha. “You don’t have to leave, but for the love of Pete, don’t blow us all up.”

“These are perfectly safe,” Agatha scoffs. “You’d have to pull the pin for it to—”

“Okay!” Odin surges forward, grasps the shoulders of the huge vest, undoes a few buckles, and pops it clean over Agatha’s head. “No need for demonstrations. Let’s save the arsenal for when those assholes come back.”

“I don’t think we should give them their cash. They can go straight to hell,” Agatha bites out, but she allows Battle Axe to help Odin by taking the shotgun from her. He breaks it and slips the bullets into his hand.

At last, I can breathe again, but barely. Atlas’ breath pounds out of him and he sags like he just finished a marathon.

“I don’t have any flamethrowers, but I do have a bow and arrows, and a medieval mace, though that might be just for décor. I haven’t decided yet. I suppose in a pinch, it could work. Oh, and a set of throwing knives!”

“Hold that thought,” Battle Axe commands, while Odin sets the vest and the gun down, exceptionally gently, on a chair in the living room.

Every piece of furniture has frills and flowers, lace and embroidery. I can’t believe that this old lady house is also practically anarsenal.

While Battle Axe gets on the phone, Odin sneaks up behind Agatha. Before I can do anything to stop it, he has a length of black fabric that looks like an extra-long scarf, wrapped around her. He secures her arms at her sides, then picks her up. She thrashes wildly, bucking and wriggling against him, but she’s maybe ninety pounds and he’s a beast of a man.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, and at least he sounds sincere. “But we can’t risk a shootout. Even if we’re well defended, someone could get hurt or killed this way, and we’re not having that. If you won’t take a vacation, you’re going to have a forced one. Don’t make me drug you, because I swear that I will, even if it’s like disrespecting my own granny, god rest her soul.”

“You devil brute!” Agatha shrieks. “I’ll put a spell on your cock so that it shrivels and falls off!”

“Sweetheart, you don’t scare me,” he rejoins with a grin. “My granny was from New Orleans. Now, she really into voodoo and black magic. Kept us all line, she did. But, if you feel the need to utter some curses, you go right ahead. I can take all the abuse you have to hand out.”

“Ugh, I’m not sure I can,” I mutter, following them out of the house.

Atlas sets his hand on the small of my back, his palm hard and comforting, slowing my rapidly pounding heart just a little.He doesn’t let his hand fall away until we’re outside, but even then, he’s not hiding. He rubs it in a slow circle before slipping it up to my shoulders and guiding me to the truck.

Battle Axe takes longer to come out, probably because he’s checking and stashing those weapons.

“I’m so sorry about all this,” I whisper to Agatha as I slide into the driver’s seat of my truck. I start it and crank the A/C so we don’t suffocate in the stifling heat. She’s in the back, still trussed, and seat-belted in. Even so, I click the locks down and slip the child safety on so she can’t unlock them and turf herself out while I’m driving. “After this is over, we’ll bring you back and we’ll send people out to clean everything up, and I promise that if anything was broken—even a teacup—I’ll pay you or find you the exact match as a replacement.”

She stares daggers at me, but she doesn’t insult me. All she does is huff.

She can probably see that a single harsh word would cause me to break out in tears. My eyes are already dangerously watery.

“I didn’t know they were going to tie you up, I swear.”

“Well… it’s not like I gave them much choice, did I?”

All I can see right now is Lynette trussed up and tied to a concrete pillar in some warehouse in Seattle almost a year ago. All of us were so helpless, trapped over an hour away. That must be how Agatha feels. Terribly. Helpless.

“I’m going to come back there and take those stupid ties off!”

Her snort is more dismissive than angry. “Might as well just leave them on or I guarantee I’ll be hurtling out of this truck and god knows what will go down after that.” She laughs. Ominously.

I groan and sink down in the driver’s seat.

The tailgate bangs down, scaring the ever living fuck out of me as they start to unload the trunk. Odin take the trunk out to the barn, Atlas trailing after him. They emerge a few minutes later, and Battle Axe closes up the house tight, testing the door. He’s found Agatha’s keys, at least. Maybe that will help her feel better.

The men spend twenty minutes putting up hidden cameras in the barn, on the barn’s exterior, and on the exterior of the house, before they get on their bikes, kick them to life, and roll out in a thunderous cloud.

I give them enough of a head start so we won’t eat their road dust.

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