Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,58
acrylic triangle. They exploded in a spectacular red fireball. Golden-red tongues licked up the sides of the kiosk. The charred smell of sizzling plastic stung her nostrils.
She stood mesmerized in horror. No wonder her father had dedicated his life to firefighting. Fire was a powerful, brutal foe. She’d seen the toll the dragon took on humans…in her dad’s scarred face, and in the disfigured bodies of the children on the burn ward. But she’d never had firsthand experience with the beast. Her heart stuttered. Her father had been braver than she knew, again riding into battle after being burned.
Shouting erupted from the bank. Bailey shook off the memories, pivoted and ran.
She sprinted past the shoe store, Quality Leather Goods and Death by Chocolate, then veered across the walkway. Gasping, she sped toward the Bedroom Furniture Emporium to meet Con. Was he behind her? She didn’t hear him, but that didn’t mean anything. His fluid movements were like a tiger’s, silent and deadly. He could be directly on her heels and she wouldn’t know.
Inside the store, she bent double, panting for air. Con didn’t appear. Her pulse geared down from a gallop to a trot, and finally slowed to near normal. She peered anxiously around the doorway. Saw nothing but spooky shadows in the echoing gloom.
Fear clutched at her throat. Where was he? In spite of her successful distraction, had the robbers caught him?
“Yo, Bailey,” Con said quietly from behind her.
She nearly leaped across the corridor. She whirled with her hand over her rocketing heart. “I’m either going to have to hang a bell around your neck or risk a coronary before the night is over. How did you get behind me?”
“I did a fast recon to the end of the mall and doubled back. Wanted to make sure none of the bad guys were around. All clear.” His mischievous smile of approval made her tingle all over. “They’re probably occupied battling the bonfire.”
She squelched the relieved impulse to fling herself into his arms and never let go. Instead, she adjusted the heavy pack on her shoulders. “So, what now?”
“We need to establish contact before SWAT executes their dynamic entry.”
“Is there time to check on Syrone, first?” She glanced around the dark, ominously silent store as they moved farther inside. If he were okay, wouldn’t he call out? “I’m worried sick about him.”
He consulted his watch. “Me, too. But we’ve only got four minutes. Listen up. I want you to talk to the suspects.”
“Me?” Nausea rolled in her stomach. “Why me?”
“As far as they’re concerned, they’re chasing a frightened, but surprisingly resourceful bookstore clerk. I don’t want to clue them in unless they force my hand.”
“Wh—what do I say?”
“Ask for their demands. No matter what they request—unless it’s to turn yourself in to them—hesitate, then bargain. See if you can gain concessions. Tell ’em you’ll do your best to acquire it. Be careful not to give away any intel.”
She sank her teeth into her lip and fidgeted with the cold metal handle on the wardrobe looming beside her. “If I mess up?”
He tugged her close and enfolded her in his embrace. “You can do it. You’re great at handling people.”
She inhaled his scent. It wrapped around her, as warm and reassuring as a fleece blanket. Normally, she was good with people, even cranky customers and scared, sick kids. Nothing about tonight was normal. “What if I say something wrong?” She swallowed hard. “What if I get our friends hurt?”
“Don’t worry, darlin’, your sharp brain will handle everything just fine. And I’ll be right here.” He cupped her face and planted a soft, confident kiss on her mouth, then looked her squarely in the eye. “We’re out of time, with no options.”
Her friends needed her. She firmed her chin, stepped back and tugged a tablet and marker from her pack. She handed them to him. “For coaching.”
“Great idea.” He looked at her. “Ready?”
She swallowed again. Nodded. “How will you let the robbers know about the walkie-talkie you stashed in Santa’s sleigh?”
He grinned. “Like this.” He switched on the blue unit and began to whistle.
It took her a second before she recognized the tune. “Here Comes Santa Claus.” Impressed by Con’s agile imagination, she waited for a response.
A long, too-silent minute passed. He checked his watch and held up three fingers. Three minutes.
Another sixty seconds. No response. Oppressive cold and darkness pressed in on her from every side. Anxiety sat in a lead weight on her chest. Con frowned and held up two