The Gender Game 5 by Bella Forrest (uplifting novels .txt) 📕

“What was he staring at me like that for?” I snapped as we went down. “Is part of my uniform on backwards or something?”

The rest of the crew gave murmured versions of I don’t know, but Thomas spoke up thoughtfully. “It is possible the man was surprised by the bruising on your face,” he suggested. “I doubt most EMTs work sporting such injuries.”

I huffed, thinking out loud. “We’ll have to say it was a domestic dispute, and things got violent.”

“Those things happen,” Cad said eagerly. “I knew a guy who was an EMT once. Some crazy stuff happens to them sometimes. Once he told me that—”

The door dinged, and Cad stopped halfway through his sentence, joining the rest of us in staring at the door as it opened. If there were people on the other side, they might very well question the plausibility of us descending to a level far, far from triage. It seemed the door couldn’t open fast enough—but finally, the metal wall drew back, and we saw an empty hallway.

As soon I nodded, Cad was moving. Turning the gurney, he pushed left down the hallway. Then I pushed Ms. Dale through, following Cad through the doors.

Violet’s cousin remembered the layout we’d studied in blueprints perfectly, navigating us confidently through the gray concrete hallways filled with pipes sprouting from the ceiling and humming electrical boxes scattered on the walls. This was the maintenance level, where the backup generators, oxygen controls, and water mains for the hospital were all located. Despite Thomas’ assurances these rooms did not have any security cameras, I carefully scanned the walls and ceilings as we moved.

This time he was right, and we made excellent time locating service room three. Cad flung open its door and wheeled Amber in. I followed quickly, with Thomas bringing up the rear and closing the door.

Once we were inside, Amber and Ms. Dale hopped off the gurneys, and from the storage space underneath them, we began pulling out the duffel bags we’d stowed our gear in. Within minutes, we’d all changed into respectable street clothes. The suit I was wearing was a bit too snug in the shoulders and crotch area, and the shoes pinched a bit, but it would have to do. I took a few painstaking moments to gather my hair into a ponytail, and then placed a pair of spectacles over my nose. The final touch was a round bowler hat atop my head.

I couldn’t be sure how I looked; I just hoped it was enough to make me unrecognizable to Cruz. I’d had my fair share of fame in the fighting world, so it was a risk. One I was prepared to deal with if things went south.

Tucking the gun I’d brought into the special holster at the base of my back, I added four extra clips into the holster’s built-in pockets, then took out the plastic box holding our video chip and slipped it into my back pocket. This one contained an edited version of Violet’s video that Thomas had cut together, hopefully making it more comprehensible to the public.

By the time I had finished, Ms. Dale and Amber had lined up their guns on a gurney and were in the only slightly ridiculous process of tucking them into various hidden pockets in their long, modest dresses. I tried not to stare, but not for the obvious reason—I’d had no idea how ingenious Patrian women’s clothing could be. How could a single dress fit so many weapons inside? I was never going to look at a conservatively dressed woman on the streets of Patrus the same way again.

“How do I look?” I asked them all, adjusting my spectacles.

Cad looked up first and gave a low wolf whistle. I gave him an incredulous look, and he shrugged and smiled. “It’s what my wife would’ve done.” I rolled my eyes, and turned to Ms. Dale and Amber.

Amber gave me the onceover, her eyes roaming up and down my body. “I mean… you’re not my type, but damn, do you make glasses work for you. Does Violet know this look exists? Because if she doesn’t, I’m going to have to tell her immediately.”

“I am not going to play dress-up for my fiancée,” I muttered.

“Yes, you are, once she hears about Nerdy Viggo.” Amber turned back to the weapons on the table with a smirk, sliding a thin knife into a thigh sheath before lowering her skirts.

Annoyed, I looked to Ms. Dale for an actual answer to my question. She gave me an approving nod, but I could tell she was biting her cheek to suppress some comment, and to be honest, by this point I was glad for her restraint.

“All right, it’ll have to do,” I grated out. “Let’s go over our identities one more time.”

Ms. Dale picked up a gun, chambering a round, and then slid it into one of the deep pockets of her gown, tugging at her skirts. “I’m Abigail Marks, beloved auntie to my two favorite nephews, Jeff and Jacob.” She gave me a little nod as she used the name I had chosen as my alias. “I am also a distant cousin, several times removed, to young Vivian here.”

“Don’t forget you raised me, Auntie Abigail,” Amber said as she pushed back her hair, sliding an auburn wig over her head, disguising her undercut beneath the thick mass of curls. “Why, I would’ve been lost without you.”

I snorted at the sugary voice she used, turning to Cad. “And you?”

“Why, I’m Kurtis, Kurtis MacDougal,” he replied. He met Amber’s gaze as she leaned forward slightly, arching her eyebrow in question, and I bit back a laugh as a dull blush began to form on his cheeks. “I’m—uh—engaged to Vivian here.”

“Don’t worry, Kurt,” Amber said, giving him a salacious wink. “Your wife doesn’t have to know about us.”

Cad’s blush darkened, his cheeks becoming mottled, and I gave Amber a little nudge. “Be nice to the happily married man,” I chided,