Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,17

classes. A police family support group.

She paused outside the wide glass doorway and clutched the bag to her chest. Why not believe in the realm of mysteries? Con did. And she believed in him. It was about time she took control of her life. Went after what she wanted with everything she had.

She couldn’t see anyone inside the bank, but amber lights illuminated the lobby and the doors were open. Relief streamed through her. Mike Hayes, the manager, often stayed late. He was probably at his desk, or in the vault. Surely, he’d accept her deposit. Especially since this was an emergency situation.

She started to take a step forward, opened her mouth to call out, then hesitated. The hair rose on the back of her neck and prickles crawled up her spine. The sense of menace she’d felt earlier, when she’d taken the spider outside slithered over her. Something was wrong.

She rose on tiptoe and peered inside. The teller cages were deserted. As were the desks. She glanced farther down the lobby, and horror punched into her chest. Nan and Letty cowered on the beige carpet, along with Mike Hayes. A stocky man dressed all in black, wearing a black hood, stood with his back to Bailey, pointing a gun at her friends. A big, deadly looking machine gun.

As if sensing her presence, the man started to turn. Bailey’s heart slammed into her ribs. She froze. Ice-cold terror pumped through her veins and a scream swelled in her throat.

Chapter 4

2:00 p.m.

An iron hand clamped over Bailey’s mouth. Aborting her scream before it was born. Cutting off her air. A thickly muscled male arm snaked around her waist and brutally yanked her to the floor.

Pinned facedown in the dark, crushed between the cold floor and a hard male body, panic ripped through her. Primitive, animal instinct for survival drove her to struggle, futile against her assailant’s strength. She bit into the smothering fingers. The attacker grunted, but his ruthless hand clamped like a vise. Desperate, she clawed at the air. His forearms tightened, shackling her arms to her sides. She bucked, but he was too heavy to dislodge. Caught helplessly in his grip, she fought for freedom, her murdered scream ricocheting through her brain.

A low growl rumbled in her ear. “It’s Con. Stop fighting.”

Relief deflated her like an empty balloon and she went limp.

“Nod if you recognize me, sweetheart.” His voice was a near soundless whisper. If she hadn’t freaked out, she would have immediately known his unique, masculine scent mingled with cinnamon. She nodded and his grip loosened a fraction. “Keep quiet, and do exactly what I tell you. If you understand, nod again.” She managed another nod and his hand released her mouth.

Trembling, paralyzed by shock, she gasped in shallow gulps.

Con tugged her to a sitting position, crouched under the solid half wall under the bank’s windows. “We need to move fast and quiet. Can you run?”

Her muscles were as weak and useless as cooked noodles. Even shaking her head no was an effort.

He caught her face between his hands. They were warm, solid and steady. “I know you’re scared. But you’ve got to focus.”

She couldn’t seem to suck in any air. Her vision fogged around the edges. A vast, echoing pit opened beneath her.

“Look at me.” Con’s tender gaze held hers, kept her from falling into the abyss. His hands clasped her shoulders and he shook her. “Bailey, breathe.”

With extreme effort, she forced her lungs to inhale.

“Hold it to a four-count. Let it out slowly, to a six-count.”

He made her repeat the soothing pattern until her vision cleared and the numbness receded from her trembling limbs. She turned and flung her arms around his neck, clinging to his sure strength. “Con! I thought you’d left.”

“Everything will be okay.” His confidence seeped through her terror, slowing her trembling. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

As appealing as escape was, she couldn’t leave her friends at the mercy of a gun-toting criminal. “What about Nan, Letty and Mike?”

“We’re their only hope. If we’re neutralized, the hostages are screwed.”

She couldn’t think straight. “What are we going to do?”

“We have to reach the main doors. Syrone will let us out, and we can call for backup.”

Backup sounded like a fine idea. Lots and lots of cops. The more cops, the better. “O-okay.”

“Can you run now that you’ve got some oxygen in you?” At her nod, he flashed a reassuring smile. “That’s my girl. First, we’re going to crawl along this wall. Without