Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,22
Army Knife to trip the bolt. Then he pulled a small tube from his pocket. “Superglue from the toy store. It’ll freeze the tumblers. The robbers will have to break down the door to spring him.”
They returned to Toys Galore. He strode inside, unhooked two backpacks and tossed one to her. “Grab anything useful.”
Bailey found four flashlights and inserted batteries. She set two on the counter to illuminate the store, tucked one into her pack and handed the other to Con. She lifted two more jump ropes off a rack, and picked up a plastic egg filled with Silly Putty.
He arched a brow. “Silly Putty?”
“You never know. It could come in handy.”
“If you say so.” Con palmed a black plastic squirt gun and whistled. “Looks real. Too real. Some kid got shot last year in the third precinct waving one of these puppies around. It might work. As long as nobody calls my bluff.”
The thought of him facing loaded Uzis with an empty toy pistol increased her nausea. She picked up a package of markers. Stared at the picture of innocent, smiling children on the box before stuffing it in her pack. Pictures. “Acetic acid!”
“Did you call me a pathetic ass? An empty squirt gun isn’t too impressive, but we have to work with what we’ve got, darlin’.”
She laughed. “Acetic acid. A chemical used in the stop bath during photo developing. One Hour Photo would have some. It’s a powerful skin irritant, and if shot into someone’s eyes, would sure slow them down.”
“Have I mentioned lately how much I admire your brilliant brain? You’re a better soldier than you think.” He handed her two toy guns. “We’ll each take two. We’ll fill ’em when we’re done.”
They continued loading items into their packs. Bailey picked up a small notebook and retractable pen from a cartoon stationery display, and began to make meticulous notes.
He peeked over her shoulder, his face inches from hers. Supercharged energy radiated from his muscled body. His warm lips brushed her cheek in a soft kiss and her nerve endings quivered. “Gonna write a book about our adventures later? How I Spent A Boring New Year’s Eve at the Mall.”
“Ha, ha, funny man. I’m logging what we take and how much it costs. The toy store shouldn’t lose money, just because—” Money. She went rigid. The blood drained from her head leaving her dizzy.
“Hey.” He turned her to face him. “What’s wrong? You just went lily-white, sweetheart.”
“The money. From the bookstore,” she whispered. “When you tackled me outside the bank, I was carrying the deposit bag. I left it there. The store’s name and account number are stamped on the front. If the robbers see it lying in front of the doorway, they’ll know someone was out there and saw them. They’ll know someone else is in the mall.”
He frowned. “Low odds, but I don’t like it. I need to circle back and do a thorough recon anyway. I’ll retrieve it.”
She grabbed his sleeve, clung. “No!”
He sighed. “Since we’re in this for the long haul, let’s get something straight.” He grasped her forearms in a gentle but ironclad grip. His gaze held hers, steady and implacable. “I am in charge of this operation. The objective is to go home with the same amount of holes in our body that we came with. And to get our friends out of that bank alive. Understand?”
“Y-yes.” She’d never seen this side of him before. Hard. Serious. All business. All cop. This Con was intimidating. Centering. And in an odd, unexpected twist, exciting. She’d always been attracted to his easygoing charm. Aroused by his sexy humor. Yet, this dangerous side of him turned her on. A lot. What was the matter with her? Had terror sent her round the bend? Was she stark-raving nuts? She was a pacifist, for heaven’s sake.
“You cannot question every detail or balk at decisions. You do what I say, when I say. Otherwise, someone could die. Got it?”
Mr. Large-and-In-Charge had a point. She already had two potentially deadly mistakes on her account. Which didn’t mean his drill-sergeant attitude rankled any less. She wasn’t a complete moron. After all, she’d taken out a bad guy and given Con an idea for an effective weapon. Bailey Chambers could carry her weight. Straightening, she snapped off a crisp salute. “Aye, aye, sir.”
“This isn’t the navy. Make that, ‘Yes, sir, Officer O’Rourke.’”
She stared into the twin lasers of his lethal brown gaze. Was he joking or serious? “Kiss my what? Officer