Page 163 of The Bodyguard

That was enough.

That was all I needed to see.

I called 911 to get the police on the way.

Next, I called Glenn.

“Code Silver at Jack Stapleton’s in-town residence,” I said to Glenn, as I started back toward the house, not even feeling the gravel under my bare feet now. Then I added, for good measure, “Hostage situation.”

Glenn wasn’t following. “Brooks, what are you talking about? He’s threat level white.”

“Check the video footage,” I said. “There’s a man with a gun inside Jack’s house.”

“Right now?” Glenn asked.

“Right now.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in the driveway. Approaching.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes. But so is Jack.”

“Jack’s not alone. He’s with an armed intruder.”

“Right. Worse than alone.”

“Are the cops on the way?”

“Yes.”

“Wait for the cops,” Glenn said. “I’m alerting the team.”

“I’m not leaving Jack in there by himself.”

“Brooks! Wait for the cops!”

“Get the team on it,” I said. “Check the video. Call me if you get anything I can use.” At that, I put my phone on silent.

“Brooks! Do not enter the scene! It isn’t secure.”

I knew he was right. Of course. I didn’t have a weapon. I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t even have shoes. Remember when I said footwear really is crucial? That was back when I thought there was nothing worse than high heels.

As I moved toward the house, I rated my survival chances at a solid fifty-fifty.

I mean: I was good at my job. But I wasn’t a superhero.

Part of being good at this job was making smart choices.

Was this a smart choice?

Not a chance. But I didn’t care.

Only one thing really mattered to me right then: Two people on Jack’s side were better than one. Even if I was barefoot, weaponless, backup-less, and injured, I wasn’t leaving him in there alone.

“Brooks!” Glenn yelled through my phone. “Listen and listen hard. I’m telling you to stand back. If you go in against my orders, you can kiss London goodbye.”

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