feeds me bites of pancake and speaks to me in shiver-inducing whispers.
Speaking of shivers, a hot one winds up my spine now.
When did Ryan become so…commanding?
When did I become the kind of girl who likes that?
Okay. At this rate, I’ll be robbing a convenience store with wet underwear.
My watch beeps and I press the button to silence it. Go time, sweetheart.
With blood pounding in my ears, I pull the ski mask down over my face, don my coat and place the gun inside one of the deep pockets. The gun is unloaded. I’ve checked it several times to be sure, as if bullets might suddenly appear in the chamber. Normally, I abhor guns and make Ryan lock his police issue weapon in a safe every night, but I want to appear threatening enough to make the shop owners move fast, without being an actual threat.
Making sure there are no passersby or cars coming, I climb out of the car and cross the street, giving myself a mental pep talk as I go. It’ll be over in thirty seconds. Thirty seconds and you’ll be able to pay your half of the rent, leaving Ryan in the dark and your mother’s medications filled for the next year. You can do this.
I push through the glass door and raise the gun, scanning the small store for other customers. One. There’s one. A big man with his back turned, holding a giant bouquet of red Valentine’s Day roses. Shit.
No choice but to keep going.
With one hand, I point the unloaded weapon at the two men behind the register. With the other, I remove the black garbage bag from my pocket and toss it onto the counter beside the cash box. “Put the cash box in the bag and get down on the ground.”
If they notice my voice is shaking, they very politely do as they’re told without mentioning the embarrassing wobble to my pitch. Okay. Okay, this is going well. One man holds the bag open while the other throws in the cash box and hands it over. I wind the loose end of the garbage bag around my left fist, keeping the gun level in my right and I back toward the door. Everything seems to be according to plan, but there are goosebumps climbing the back of my neck. Why are the store employees not even protesting? They seem so calm.
A second later, I find out why.
When I try to back through the glass door, it’s locked.
I bump it again with my hip—hard—but it sticks.
“Automatic lock,” one of the men calls from behind the counter. “There’s a button under the counter.”
“Nice try, though,” says his friend, chuckling—and he raises a gun.
A gun much bigger than mine. Is that a rifle?
Acid floods my mouth and something I never could have expected happens. I whimper Ryan’s name. I want to rewind to this morning and tell him everything so he can give me those quiet words of wisdom, at which I usually roll my eyes. But I wouldn’t now. I might even let him give me a hug and tell me everything is going to be fine.
The two men are coming around the counter now and instinctively, I drop the bag containing the cash box and try to pry open the door. It doesn’t work. Oh God, I’m stuck in here with these men I just robbed—and is that…?
Yes.
Yes, that’s sirens in the distance.
They must have triggered a silent alarm. I anticipated that, but figured I would be long gone before the police arrived. I never considered a remote locking door.
I’m well and truly screwed.
I cock my gun. “Back up,” I order them, trying to sound as authoritative as possible.
One of them tilts his head. “How much fun do you think we can have with her before the cops arrive?”
“She sounds cute under that mask.” He uses the muzzle of the rifle to lift the hem of my coat, inching it higher and higher until my red flannel shirt is revealed. “Let’s take a little peek, shall we?”
The man holding the gun drops to the floor. His gun is confiscated, held in a fist while his owner slumps into a pile of bones below.
Whose fist is that?
The man. I forgot about the other man in the store.
It’s… “Ryan?”
“Be with you in a second.” He clocks the second guy between the eyes with the butt of his gun, knocking him out cold, then casually tosses the rifle onto his shoulder, like an action movie star.