Double Crossed

The woman swerved quickly and stopped the van at a brown house with boarded up windows. She’d been driving way too fast, like there was a time limit on her errand.

“This is what you made me do!” she shrieked. Then she punched the passenger, a rather large man, in the jaw. The side doors opened and the two men flanking me jumped out to help. They pulled the passenger from the van and began to beat him up.

A car skidded to a halt behind the van. It was the ringleader. I assumed I was to witness the flogging of a man they had decided had turned traitor. I had been at the right party at the right time. One hand slid into my bag and speed-dialed my handler.

Another SUV stopped behind her car. A rival secret agent jumped out, rolled up his sleeves to help, and sauntered over to the leader. He was surprised from behind by two more of her goons. Busted!

Time to make my move. I hit send, then jumped out of the still open door and pretended to tie a shoelace, slipping the bluetooth on my ear.

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