Irish Throwdown (What Happens In Vegas Book 4) by Matt Lincoln (short books for teens .TXT) 📕

to retrieve the paper, which I assumed must be the note containing the name and address the broadcaster had mentioned, but I froze when I remembered the deputy commissioner’s warning not to touch anything.

I sighed and took a step back. I could hear voices talking as they approached the entrance of the tunnel, most likely Junior and the officers he’d been speaking with coming to see if I’d found anything. I opened my mouth to yell for them to call the bomb squad, but just as I was turning my head to call out, I caught a glint of something reflective out of the corner of my eye.

Fear settled in the pit of my stomach as I realized what I’d just seen. I turned slowly, hoping I was wrong but knowing deep down that I wasn’t. Mounted on the wall at eye level right above the box was a sleek black tablet, the light next to the front-facing camera blinking red to indicate that it was on and recording.

That light hadn’t been on just a moment ago. I was sure of it. I would have noticed a bright red light blinking in the darkness of the tunnel. Someone was watching me.

Just as that thought flashed through my mind, the tablet’s screen lit up and cast a hard white glow into the tunnel. I turned and shielded my eyes, having been suddenly blinded by the unexpectedly bright light.

I squinted as I turned back around to face the tablet. In bright red letters displayed on a stark white background was a timer currently counting down from just above twelve hours. Then, without warning, the timer began to go down rapidly.

My eyes widened with shock as I realized what was happening, and I leaned down to pluck the piece of paper from the box. Then I turned and booked it as fast as I could out of the tunnel.

“Run!” I shouted as I hurtled toward the light of the platform. I could see shadowy figures moving around at the entrance, silhouetted against the bright and comforting safety of the platform beyond it. “The bomb’s about to go off!”

There was a scramble as the officers rushed to clamber back onto the platform. Every muscle in my body tensed as I raced toward the end of the tunnel.

“Charlie!” a voice to my left yelled as I emerged into the brightly lit area. I turned to find Junior kneeling on the edge of the platform, reaching his hand out toward me. I clasped it tightly and threw myself up onto the platform just as the bomb went off. My ears were filled with a noise that was partway between a roar and a bang, and I could feel the ground shaking beneath me as I closed my eyes and threw my arms over my head.

25

Miranda

I rolled my eyes as I peered through the window in the hospital room door and watched Wallace fuss over Howard. In my opinion, he wasn’t worth all the concern. He was a pathetic traitor who’d put all his fellow agents in danger and landed Fiona in the hospital. Wallace had asked me if I wanted to come in to see him as well, and I’d had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes right in front of him. Howard and I had never really been friendly, but I felt downright hostile toward him at the moment.

“He’s in rough shape,” Wallace informed me a few minutes later as he padded out of the room. “He seemed to be doing better yesterday, but it appears he’s taken a turn for the worse again.”

“That’s too bad,” I deadpanned, not bothering to even pretend that I cared how he was doing.

Wallace shot me a disapproving glare. For a minute, I was worried he was about to tell me off for being so rude, but then he just sighed.

“We should get back to the office,” he muttered.

I nodded and followed him out of the hospital and back into the car. I hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, but when Wallace had asked me to accompany him, I felt bad turning him down directly. I might not like Howard, but Wallace had always been a great boss, and I didn’t really have a good reason not to go with him, considering Naomi and I hadn’t had much to do today.

I slipped into the passenger seat and waited in uncomfortable silence as Wallace started the car. I felt like a teenager that had disappointed their parent, but I wasn’t about to lie and pretend that I cared what happened to Howard.

“I once shot a victim,” Wallace suddenly said, snapping me out of my thoughts. It took me a moment to register what he had just said.

“What?” I responded, unsure where that comment had come from or where he was going with it.

“It was a hostage situation,” Wallace continued bleakly. “At a bank. Someone had gone in to rob the place and had panicked and taken several people hostage when his plan fell apart. I was one of the first officers on the scene. I was so drunk that when one of the hostages managed to escape and ran from the building, I shot him, thinking that he was the robber.”

I stared at Wallace in shock. I wasn’t sure what I should say in response to that.

“I-I had no idea,” I finally stuttered.

“It isn’t common knowledge,” Wallace chuckled bitterly. “Or public knowledge, even. The victim lived, everything was settled out of court, and the entire thing was covered up. It would have been bad for the department’s image if it got out, after all.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was inconceivable to me that Wallace, who was always kind and careful and warning us not to work too hard, had been involved in the shooting of an innocent victim. Worse still, he’d been complicit in covering it up.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, a tornado of conflicting emotions swirling inside of