Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,31
relieve the tension. “I’d love to trip the trigger on your big gun, Officer Sexy.”
He laughed. “I thought you didn’t like guns.”
“Depends on what kind of ammo they’re shooting. And if they’re rapid-fire repeaters or not.”
“Whoa! Keep talking and you’ll find yourself on the counter over there. Flat on your back and minus your clothes.”
The idea had appeal. She smiled at him. “Maybe later.”
“You want a championship marksman, I’m your guy. You’d better start me an IOU column in that notebook of yours.”
They ventured onto the sky bridge and hung the sheets. The putty worked great. They lit the signs with flashlights. Then Con stashed her in Sears while he went to initiate phase two. She found a large plastic tarp in the automotive department and draped it over two end displays for a makeshift tent. She added more items to her pack, making detailed notations about what she borrowed.
What was taking Con so long? Had he run into one of the robbers? Was he having trouble igniting the oil? Or maybe he hadn’t had trouble starting the fire, but with controlling it. Her stomach tightened. Please, don’t let him have been burned!
Seeking distraction from her distress, she started an IOU column. She wrote trip your trigger in Con’s column. Kiss any thing, any time any where was listed as owed to her, plus more inventive ideas about what he could do when she was flat on her back on a counter. Then suddenly the fire alarm clanged, and she jumped. Success!
Grinning, she sprinted for her shelter and arrived as the sprinkler system hissed on. Water rained everywhere, plopping onto the tarp and bouncing off the linoleum. The space between sprinklers meant that not everything on the shelves got soaked, but close enough. Hoo boy, the floor was a sodden mess.
Sirens wailed in the distance and grew louder. Yes! The sirens screamed into the parking lot, and then abruptly died. Had the firefighters seen the banners? She didn’t know if the sprinklers were on a timer, set to react to smoke or flames, or if the fire department had a remote shutoff, but after about ten minutes, water stopped pouring out of the ceiling.
“Yo, darlin’.”
At the sound of Con’s low hail behind her, she squeaked. “Ack! Cardiac arrest! I didn’t hear you come up behind me.”
His clothes were soaked, his short, sleek hair glistening. He hadn’t had the luxury of seeking shelter when the sprinklers erupted. Amusement flitted across his handsome face. “You aren’t supposed to. Goes double for the bad guys.”
“Did the fire trucks see the message?”
“Ten-four. SWAT should be scrambling as we speak.”
She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She and Con had bought Letty, Mike and Nan a fighting chance. “Do we hide and wait for the cavalry?”
“No. We load our squirt guns. I don’t suppose we could use the linseed oil? It would sting like a mother, too.”
“It’s pretty thick. It probably wouldn’t shoot very far, and might clog.”
“Okay, so we go after the acetic acid.”
“You’d better change into dry clothes. The temperature is getting chillier by the minute.”
“I want those guns loaded first. And I have to do another recon on the bank to see how the suspects reacted to the alarm and sprinklers. When SWAT gets here, I need up-to-the-minute intel.”
Her relief died a premature death. Back downstairs? Back into the jaws of danger. Another risk to Con’s life. Cursing her jangling nerves, she picked up her pack and bat. She forced confidence she didn’t feel into her words. “Let’s go.”
“Be extra vigilant. Because of the alarm, the robbers are going to wonder who’s out here and what we’re up to. These guys aren’t stupid, they’ll be surveilling the area. After the way the fire trucks responded, then took off like bats out of hell, they’ve got to suspect the cops are on the way and be uptight. Likely to shoot first and ask questions later.”
“Great. Got any more good news?”
“Yeah, the floor is slippery as a greased guinea pig. Watch your step.”
“And you’d know how slippery a greased guinea pig is?”
He didn’t say anything as they strode toward the front of the store, but his lips twitched.
“Oh, no. You didn’t!”
“Aidan and I thought Grady’s Mr. Peepers needed a slick hairstyle, like Fonzie’s. Neither Mr. Peepers nor Grady was too enthusiastic about the new do.” He chuckled. “Hey, give me a break. We were five and six. The ultra cool Fonz was our hero.”
“It’s a miracle your mother doesn’t chug antacid directly out of