Page 9 of Nuclear Option (Owens Protective Services)

“He’s right on that score. We might have to take out a few civilians to get out. The only other way is through the morgue.”

Eva sat up suddenly, a shocked look on her face. “I get to play a dead person?”

“No,” New Guy shook his head. “They’ve tightened security in the morgue in recent years.”

I looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

He shrugged. “What? It’s not like I’ve tried it. It came up during research.”

“Okay, Rae and I are dressed to take Eva down there. What are you doing?”

“I’ll follow behind. I’m the worried husband, chasing after you as you rush my wife to surgery.”

“And Johnny?”

“He’ll have to go out one of the other exits. There’s no way he’ll pass as someone on the hospital staff.”

“Not happening. I stay with you or we find a different way.”

“Fine,” New Guy snapped. “You can be the concerned boyfriend and I’ll be her brother.”

“You look nothing like her,” Johnny snapped.

“I’ve known her for longer than you,” New Guy shot back.

“By two fucking minutes. If you’re going to play this game, you need your story to hold up. What’s her favorite music? What about her favorite foods?”

“Easy,” New Guy answered. “She likes country music and her favorite food is Mexican.”

“Like that makes sense,” Johnny scoffed. “If she likes country music, she should like something southern.”

“Oh, so you can only like Mexican food if you like banjos and accordions?”

“Would you both shut up?” Rae said suddenly. “It’s not like they’re going to stop and give you a pop quiz.”

I bent down and kissed Eva lightly. “Kitten, I need you to lay really still for me, okay?”

“Like I’m dead?” she grinned.

“Yeah, just like that.”

She nodded and closed her eyes. I gave a quick look to the others that it was time to go. I pulled the mask up over my mouth and got behind the gurney as Rae stepped to the side to help me maneuver the gurney through the hospital.

“Ready?” I asked everyone.

“Wait!” Eva’s hand shot up and grabbed me. “If I’m dead, why would you be wheeling me to surgery? Should I be injured?”

“Sure, kitten.”

“Should I be shot? Ooh, or maybe I’m having a seizure!”

“Just lay down and be quiet.”

“That’s not believable,” she argued. “I could pretend I have a shoulder injury and start crying. Oh my God!” she screamed. I slapped my hand over her mouth. If she kept screaming, we were going to get caught.

“I say we sedate her,” Johnny whispered. “She’s going to get us all killed.”

“We’re not fucking sedating her,” I gritted out. “Not for at least another two hours.”

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