Before he could argue, I jogged toward the guard, stumbling and out of breath. When he pulled out his gun, I quickly tripped to appear helpless and injured. Then I flipped onto my back, holding my chest. “Please help,” I whispered.

He peered down at me, mesmerized by the rise and fall of my ample breasts beneath the lacy fabric of my black bra. Then I heard a thwack, and his knees buckled. Wheeler had crept up behind him and smacked him over the back of the head with the butt of his gun.

I leaped to my feet and grinned victoriously. Whee! This was fun.

Wheeler knelt down, disarmed him, and pulled a pair of cuffs from the back of the guard’s pocket. “Well, isn’t that convenient?” He locked the man’s hands behind his back and tightened the cuffs.

“Sure you want to waste those on him?” I lifted my nose and sauntered around him, feeling his molten gaze on me for a fraction of a second. Then I heard fabric tearing. Wheeler held a strip of material in his hand and balled up another, shoving it into the man’s mouth before tying a gag.

“That’s not my shirt, is it?”

He winked. “Sure looks like it.”

I put my hands on my hips and feigned annoyance, but without knowing how many guards were inside, maybe a woman in a bra would temporarily stun them before they considered firing on us. It sure seemed to have worked its magic on this poor fellow.

Wheeler dragged him around a large bush by his ankles and then stared at him for a minute. “See anything we could use to tie him to a tree?”

“How about that rope?” I suggested.

His eyes flicked up in surprise.

“That would be convenient, wouldn’t it? Just leave him and let’s go!” I carefully approached the back door, crawling in front of the bushes to avoid someone spotting me through one of the windows. Delgado must have liked his backyard view, because he had windows that went from floor to ceiling.

When it looked clear, I turned the doorknob and slowly stepped inside. A cool gust of air teased my hair back, and I listened for an alarm. Nothing.

The living room had all white furniture. I stood amid white leather sofas, white marble flooring, and a pristine white rug without a spot on it.

“Just in case you’re wondering, you didn’t die. This isn’t heaven,” Wheeler whispered sarcastically against my ear.

Voices murmured in the distance, and I quickly moved toward them. Wheeler’s arm flew out in front of me, holding me back so he could peer through a large doorway. He pointed to the left, signaling their location.

Wheeler skulked around the wall, and my anger began to bubble. My mother had always said I had a temper like a volcano—dormant for years until provoked by the wrong person. This wasn’t a man’s job, so I brazenly walked into the room with my catlike strut and straight toward the voices.