RORY. WHAT A prankster.

Guess he wasn't kidding about blowing up the place. Whatever he used, it was probably placed in the kitchen. Rory could probably sneak into the kitchen and plant some sort of incendiary device without anybody noticing it. Kitchens have a lot of potential incendiary devices.

It was also big. Knocked everyone on their asses, let me tell you. I probably would have even gotten hurt myself had it not been for Lotus breaking my fall. What a good little minion.

As the dust cleared, I crawled on top of the fallen security guard and search for his keys. The blast had caused him to fall backwards and hit his head. After finding a wallet full of cash - which I kept and stuck it in my boot - I found the keys. One of the keys looked like a handcuff key. Yatzee!

I also found a semi-automatic firearm. I removed it from his shoulder holster and checked to see if it was loaded. It was. Things were looking up. I pushed myself up and stepped over the prone Lotus to get to Jenny.

"Jenny?" The explosion hadn't seemed to harm her. If anything, it might have actually woken her up a bit. "Jenny? Jenny, honey, are you awake?" I sat the firearm down between two large dildos and patted her cheek. "Wake up!"

She groaned. "Shee...bon?"

"That's right, Jen. It's me. It's Shee...bon."

"I'm thirsty." She tried to focus on me. "Shee-bon, I'm thirsty."

"I know you are, sweet girl," l told her. "Let's get you down and we'll get you a drink of water." I unlocked one side and held her up while I reached to free her other hand.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I looked over my shoulders. One of the guests - an old dude in a suit - was leaning on the couch with an affronted expression on his face. "Put her back. She's not yours. We're going to bid on her."

Son of a Bitch. I rolled my eyes, picked up the firearm, and shot him. He looked at me in shock, looked down at the growing red spot on his chest. "You shot me," he croaked, and then fell to the floor.

"You shot him," said Jenny.

"No, I didn't," I lied, while at the same side I looked at the gun. It was well-balanced, had a smooth trigger, and had virtually no kickback. It was a nice piece of hardware.

"Is he dead?" asked Jenny.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"No," the man groaned. "I'm not dead. I am wounded, though. Can you call an ambulance?"

"Sure," I told him. "I'll get right on that."

So there I was, a recently fired firearm in one hand, cast on the other, and a naked, drugged out girl around my shoulder. Not to mention the fact that I was wearing a dom outfit with 10 inch heels. Plus, I didn't have enough hands, and where the hell was I going to put this gun? I didn't want to set it down on the table again. All those sex toys? That was disgusting. And besides, I might need to shoot somebody again.

Rescuing is hard. Seriously hard. I was tired already, and I hadn't even gotten her down yet.

So I did what I had to do. I stuck the butt of the gun in my mouth and unlocked her other hand.

"Are you a spy?" she asked as she draped herself on me.

I couldn't really answer her because I had a gun in my mouth. I jostled her around a bit to get her where we could move together and took the gun out of my mouth. My mouth tasted like oil.

"Ick." I made a face and spit. Man. I should have taken those mints.

"You spit," said Jenny.

"Hey! You! Drop the girl!"

A suited security guard entered the room with his weapon drawn. So I shot him.

He looked down at the red spot on his shirt. "You shot me!" he yelled. "Bitch!" Then he shot back.

Fortunately it missed. "You're a dick!" I yelled and shot again. This time he went down.

"Shee-bon, you're a spy."

"That's me," I told her. "I'm a spy." I pulled her to the door and kicked it open. Judging from the smoke and the dust, the hall had suffered worse than the library. People were screaming, coughing, running around hysterically, and crowding to get to the stairs at the end of the hall. Again, the realization that rescue was seriously hard work crossed my mind, along with the fact that I hated these boots.

I pushed against the crowd and took the stairs up instead of down.

"Shee-bon, I'm scared," Jenny mumbled against my shoulder.

"I got you, girlie."

"I want to go home."

"We're going home."

"I want my mommy."

"I know, buddy."

We climbed past the third floor until we got to the top. I pushed Jenny to my side and raised the gun. Sadly, there was no one there to shoot. Not that I wanted to shoot anybody per se; it was just a really nice weapon. Shooting it was a pleasure. I'm just saying.

Anyway, it looked empty. People must have all panicked and ran downstairs, even though there appeared to be no bomb damage.

"Are we going the right way?" Jenny asked.

"I'm hoping," I told her as I pulled her along and into a very large bedroom. I sat her on the bed and she immediately fell over. "Okay then."

This bedroom was definitely more modern than the lower floors. It must be where the citizens of the townhouse of iniquity lived when they weren't committing iniquity. I looked around; it wasn't exactly my style, but it was tastefully decorated in a palette of blues complete with a California King bed, mahogany furniture, and windows that looked onto the roofs across the street.

"What are you doing in my room?"

I whirled around. A woman, short, old, who looked remarkably like someone's great aunt, was standing in the doorway and pointing a delicate lady gun at me. She was exquisitely dressed in a ridiculously expensive St. John's Knit suit, complete with pearls, flawlessly coiffed hair, and tastefully applied make-up.

I shrugged. "Got me. It's what I was told to do."

Her eyes narrowed. "Who told you to do that?"

"It's a long story," I sighed.

She pursed her lips. "You're right. I don't care. Get out." She gestured towards the door with the gun. "But you're leaving that here." She pointed at Jenny with her gun. "That belongs to me."

I rolled my eyes, lifted my firearm, and shot her. I mean, what was the point of talking? Also, I kinda wanted to shoot the gun again.

She sank to the ground. "You shot me," she gasped as she tried to raise her own weapon. "I can't believe you shot me."

"Why are people so freaked out about me shooting them?" I asked rhetorically as I kicked the gun out of her hand. "I'm dressed as a dom, for God's sake." I pulled her by her St. John Knits collar and deposited her into the hall. "By the way, you don't own people, bitch."

With that, I slammed and lock the door. Bending down to pick up the lady gun, I said to Jenny, "Alrighty then. Let's get this rescuing over with. I need something to eat."

She mumbled something that probably wasn't important. I walked over to a set of double doors that looked like a closet, but for all knew, could have had a naked dude chain up in it. I mean, we were in a townhouse of iniquity. So I raised the firearm and opened the door.

The only thing that happened was that a light came on. I was, once again, vaguely disappointed. "Rory!" I yelled up at the ceiling. "You better be here."

A second later, a door in the ceiling opened and Rory stuck his head down. "You called," he smiled.

"What the hell?" I asked him. "What. The. Hell."

"I figured you needed a distraction." He smiled. "You can thank me later."

"Whatev. Drop the ladder." I turned got Jenny off the bed. "Come on, girlie. Cab's here," I told her as I hoisted her into the closet and onto the ladder.

"That girl's naked," Rory commented.

"We're escaping. No time to dress."

"You found her like that?"

"I found her chained to a cross," I told him as I tried to maneuver her onto the ladder. "You're going to have to pull her up."

"Jeeysus. I should have made a bigger bomb," he muttered. "Well, grab that dress over there. You're in a closet, for the love of pete."

"Everyone's a critic," I muttered. "We can dress her once we get out of here. Now help me. I'm doing the heavy lifting here, and it's hard."

"Yeah. You're an action hero," he told me as he lifted Jenny up.

I grabbed a tasteful Diane Von Fustenberg wrap around with a pair of Chanel ballet flats - a staple of fashion if there ever was one - and a Hermes birkin bag to put it all in. I made sure to include the firearms, because even though was going to have to ditch them, a part of me was hoping that I could shoot someone else one last time.

"Hurry up!" yelled Rory. "Time's a wasting."

It occurred to me that I could always shoot Rory. Then I climbed on up and took Jenny off his hands as he pulled up the ladder.

"Is this some suicide thing?" I asked as he slammed the door. "Because if it is, I'm going to shoot you."

"No, no, no, ye of little faith," he answered. "Some of these townhouses have connecting doors in the attics. It just so happens that the one next door is under renovation." He walked over and opened a door. "Follow me. Your escape is through here."

"Dude, your resourcefulness is an awesome thing. How'd you find it?"

He grinned at me. "Maybe every now and then I sneak in and lift a few wallets while Tessa's inflicting discipline."

"Well, aren't you enterprising," I said admiringly.

"I'm cold," Jenny whimpered.

She was shivering. I pulled out the trench coat and wrapped it around her. "Come on, girlie. Almost there."

Rory led us through the door. We were in the attic of a gutted townhouse. "Be careful," Rory warned. "The stairs are a bit flimsy. But they got the shower installed on the second floor so we can at least get the blood and gunpowder off of you."

"You're the best, Rory."

"I'm cold," Jenny repeated. Shock was setting in. "We need to get her dressed," I told Rory.

"No worries," said Rory as we followed him into bathroom area on the second floor. "There's soap, a nailbrush, and a towel." He took Jenny carefully from me. "Come on, Miss. Let's get you fixed."

I got naked and handed him the wad of cash from my boot. "For your troubles," I said as I got in the shower and started scrubbing "So, how much time we got?"

"Not much. I figure maybe five more minutes." He handed me an H&M bag. "I hope you like it."

I pulled it out; it was a nice little low cut, long sleeved, A-line dress in black, a faux leather biker jacket, and a pair of knee high boots.

"I splurged on the boots," he told me. "Just seem to go with the outfit."

"I concur," I said as I got dressed. "Very well done. What do you think?"

"You look good. Hands."

I stuck out my hands as Rory performed a makeshift GSR test on me. "So how does Mr. Cosetino feel about tonight's rescue mission?"

"Oh, Alex. Shit." I shook my head. "We were supposed to go to dinner. He's going to be pissed."

"So you blew him off to rescue your friend? You're right. He will be pissed. No GSR." He tossed the test stuff in the box and then got out a small UV light that ran it up and down my face and hair.

"Whoops. Looks like bone." He wiped off the little spot, invisible to naked eye.

"Am I clean?"

"Clean enough."

"That's everything, right?" I asked. "Guns, clothes, everything?"

"It is indeedy." He sealed it. This box was marked 'The McIver Group: Discovery: In re Baxter. Under ABA rules of professionalism, NYS Code, and Iowa State Code, this box cannot be opened without service of process and a warrant describing the contents within.'

Rory poured some bleach to wash out the shower. "Okay, Ladies. It's not going to do me any good to come with you, so you're on your own. Go down the stairs, head out the back." He paused. "If you hurry, you might make it passed the cops."

I picked up Jenny from her makeshift bed of a stack of drywall. "Come on, girlie. Let's get this rescue over with."

_____ * _____ * _____ * _____ * _____

Jenny's rescued, Siobhan's cleaned up, and Rory's going on with being Rory. So far, so good. Hopefully Alex won't be too angry...

Thank you so much for taking time to read Siobhan's story! I look forward to your comments, and if you liked it, please remember to vote!

©Copyright Liz Charnes May 2018

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