by Mari Carr
Pennywise ducked his head, almost in a nod, then reached out and slapped the light switch. The main bar lights went out.
Layla sucked in a breath, frozen in the moment it took her eyes to adjust to the remaining ambient light from the beer signs on the walls and the small lights that illuminated the bottles behind the bar.
“I’m getting the money. Don’t do anything.” Padraig put one arm behind his back, motioning for her to flee out the rear as he started backing up so he could make his way around the bar to the register.
Layla took one step, but Pennywise took two jerky steps to the side, the gun rising higher. He was staring right at her.
Layla and Padraig both froze. Pennywise tipped his head to the side, staring at her even as he spoke to Padraig. “Don’t try anything, or I fucking kill her.”
“I’ll fill the bag. Don’t point the gun at her.”
“Move faster,” Pennywise said. It sounded like he was smiling behind the mask.
Padraig looked at her over his shoulder, then rushed around behind the bar, bag in hand.
“If you’re fast…then I won’t have time to do anything with her.” Pennywise took one step deeper into the bar, the gun never wavering. His hand was steady as a rock. This guy wasn’t afraid. If anything, it looked like he got off on this, enjoyed the rush of not just stealing from others, but scaring them.
Miguel had hypothesized the robber’s motive was drug money. She wasn’t sure she agreed with that right now. There was no desperation here.
Miguel also told her that during one of the latest robberies, the owner of the convenience store had managed to pull his own gun, but Pennywise had been quicker. He’d actually shot the gun out of the man’s hand, like a sharpshooter in the Old West.
She backed up, her heart beating so hard that she could hear the thump, thump, thump in her ears, the sound nearly muting the ominous thud of his footsteps.
He took another step, and she retreated. As Padraig frantically shoved cash into the bag, Pennywise stalked her. She matched him step for step, backing up until her ass hit a table.
She didn’t have a clue if Pennywise recognized her, the cheap mask concealing his features, every part of him from the shoulders up. She tried to recall Miguel’s questions the first night they’d met, tried to find some sort of distinguishing feature that would help him crack this case. Pennywise seemed more at ease this time than he had the night he’d robbed her. She could only assume his success at evading the law so many times had inflated his confidence, made him cocky, but that detail wouldn’t help Miguel.
He was close now, only five feet away. She couldn’t retreat anymore, not unless she went around the table, and in the dim light, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t trip over a chair. She’d had the sum total of one self-defense class with Finn and Miguel, and the number one thing they’d expressed was, don’t be a hero. Miguel had reassured her that she’d done the right thing the first time she’d been robbed. She had remained calm and she’d given the man what he wanted. Just like Padraig was now.
Running and tripping over a chair was the opposite of being calm, but oh how she wanted to run, especially when Pennywise took another menacingly large, slow step toward her.
He was close enough that she could reach out and touch him.
And he could touch her.
Layla closed her eyes for a moment, trying to keep herself calm. When she opened them, he was less than a foot from her, the grinning white clown face looming, filling her field of vision.
She started to scream, terror making her panic and forget to be calm, but Pennywise pressed the barrel of the gun against her lips. “Shhhh.”
“Leave her alone,” Padraig said, his voice still calm.
Pennywise leaned in, and as he did, he shifted into a dim shaft of light from a streetlamp outside. For a moment, his face was illuminated, and she could see his eyes, the only part of the man visible through the mask. And they were brown. Brown eyes.
Wow, that was really going to narrow it down for Miguel.
“What’s taking so long?” Pennywise shifted the gun, running the side of the barrel along her cheek and then down her neck. With him this close, she could see his eyes moving, and it was almost more terrifying this way—the mask making his features fixed and still, with sunken, human eyes that moved and shifted in isolation.
It was taking Padraig a long time to fill the bag. Wasn’t it? How much time had passed? Seconds or minutes? Was Padraig stalling? Waiting for something?
No one could see in, no one would notice what was happening. It was late on a Tuesday night. Sunday’s Side, the adjoining restaurant, had closed two hours earlier, leaving that half of the building in total darkness.
Padraig had already pulled the blinds on the front windows before she’d gotten here, working his way through his closing routine. Miguel said the robber cased his businesses, knew the best time and way to hit, but if that was true, wouldn’t Pennywise know there were a bunch of people living in the apartment upstairs?
She was starting to think this guy wasn’t as clever as the police had thought. He’d simply been getting lucky.
“Here. It’s here.” Padraig remained behind the bar, holding out the bag of money. Layla understood his tactic. He was trying to draw the gunman away from her.
Pennywise grasped her upper arm roughly, jerking her in front of him. If seeing him had been horrifying, not being able to see him because he was behind her, the gun against the small of her back, his fingers digging into her arm, was far worse. He forced her to walk across the room toward Padraig. “Take the bag from him, coffee girl.”
So he did recognize her.
God. If she’d thought herself terrorized before…now she felt practically catatonic with fear.
She took the bag from Padraig and tried to pass it back. He’d have to let go of her to take it.
Pennywise made a tsking sound, then started backing toward the exit. He was using her as a shield, keeping her between himself and Padraig.
“I gave you what you want. Leave the woman here.”
Layla wasn’t sure how Padraig had the ability to sound so freaking calm. She was so scared she felt nauseous. The urge to do something, maybe drop the bag and run, was strong. But there was literally a gun at her back. If it went off, she was dead.
Pennywise chuckled but didn’t respond to Padraig. Just kept pulling her with him to the front.
He hadn’t killed anyone before. He hadn’t kidnapped anyone. Probably he was going to release her as soon as he was at the front door.
Probably.
Jesus. Please.
“I can feel your fear,” Pennywise whispered.
Layla’s eyes slid closed, and she knew that whatever this psycho had or had not done in the past, it didn’t matter.
Tonight was different.
* * *
Finn fired up his laptop, cursing when it took the screen too long to appear. As he typed in the password to the security system, he explained what he was doing to Miguel. “I installed the same security system here that I did at LJ’s coffee shop. Finished the setup yesterday after…”
After Layla had walked away from them and Miguel had gone to work. He’d been too restless, too worked up to sit behind his desk at the office, so he’d come here instead and lost himself in the tech. He’d set up security cameras on the front and back doors—rather proud of how well both were hidden. Then he’d added three more inside the building, two in the pub and one on Sunday’s Side.
Padraig had called it overkill, rolling his eyes at the panic button Finn had placed under the counter below the cash register. As he waited for the live video feed to fire up, he prayed Padraig had hit it by mistake. Even though he knew his cousin would never do that.
The panic button was tied to dispatch, just as any good alarm system was. So the Baltimore Police Department would have been alerted by now as well.
“Jesus,” he whispered as the pub came into view. Padraig was behind the bar s
liding money into a sack. Layla was standing backed up against a table.
And Pennywise was holding a gun against her cheek.
“Fuck!” Miguel turned and was halfway to the door before Finn caught him.
“We can’t just run down there, Miguel. The guy has a gun on her.”
“I’m going to kill that fucking clown.” Miguel’s gun was strapped to a holster under his shirt. It always was. Baltimore cops followed a code—a cop was a cop twenty-four hours a day. Finn knew that well, having grown up with a cop dad. Miguel pulled it out, checked the safety.
“We need a plan,” Finn said, everything he’d learned about security and diffusing hostile situations running through his head. “You know his MO better than anyone. What’s he going to do?”
“Get the money fast.”
“And his exit?”
“Always through the same door he entered. He’ll already have scoped out the quickest, most discreet escape.”
Finn went back to the video feed and reversed the cameras. “He came in through the front door.”
“Cocky motherfucker,” Miguel muttered.
“Come on. We’ll go down the fire escape, circle the building, grab him when he comes out. That way, Padraig and Layla are out of the line of fire.”
Miguel took off down the stairs. Finn stopped to grab something from the desk drawer, then followed, hot on his best friend’s heels. Darcy, Gavin and Oliver looked surprised to see them running down the stairs like the place was on fire—and were even more shocked to see the gun in Miguel’s hand. Finn tucked his hand behind his back, not wanting anyone to see that he was armed as well.
“Pub is being robbed. Lock the door and stay up here,” Miguel said.
Oliver quickly went to the door at the top of the stairs and threw the dead bolt.
“Paddy,” Darcy said, rising, her voice rife with concern.
“He’s fine so far. Cops are on the way,” Finn said. “Go upstairs, Darcy. Call dispatch and watch the live feed. Tell them everything you see.”
Darcy raced up the stairs.
“What should we do?” Oliver asked.
Finn didn’t want Oliver or Gavin anywhere near this. Though his youngest cousin was a man now, he was afraid he would forever think of him as his baby cousin, the tiny toddler who was always trying to keep up with the big kids.
“Ollie—” Finn started, prepared to tell him to lay low, even though he knew his cousin well enough to know he’d put up a fight and refuse.
“Watch the back from here.” Miguel already had the back window of the apartment open, one foot on the fire escape. “If the guy tries to get away through the alley, watch him, chart his movements. Don’t go down, don’t follow him. He’s armed and dangerous, so just watch. We need to know how he’s getting away. It could help us catch him later if he eludes us again.”
Oliver and Gavin nodded, taking up the sentry post at the window as he and Miguel quickly climbed down the fire escape.
“Finn,” Miguel said, when they hit the ground. “Stay here and guard the back door.”
Finn snorted. “No fucking way. You know he’s not coming this way.”
“You’re unarmed. I can’t take this guy down if I’m worried about you—”
Finn shook his head and started for the corner of the building. “Save your breath. There’s no way I’m leaving you and Layla facing this guy alone.” That was when Finn revealed his weapon. “And I’m not unarmed. Got my concealed-carry training from you, remember? License is upstairs.”
Miguel cursed. “Jesus Christ. Don’t fire that fucking gun. And stay behind me.”
The two of them walked to the corner of the building, Miguel peering around toward the front door of the pub.
“What do you see?” Finn asked.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
“Fuck. That’s going to spook—” Miguel stopped speaking—and that was when Finn heard the robber yell. His blood went cold.
* * *
They were nearly to the front door when the sound of sirens cut through the night. They were loud and seemed to be getting louder.
“You called the fucking cops?!” Pennywise yelled.
Padraig’s hands were in the air. “No. Of course not. How could I? Just take it easy, buddy. We live in Baltimore. There are sirens outside all the time.”
Pennywise didn’t calm down. If anything, he became more agitated. “Fuck!”
His grip on Layla’s arm tightened, and she knew what he was going to do. Knew it because she felt the muzzle of the gun sliding up her back as he raised the weapon.
“Paddy! Get down!” she screamed as the gun came up, seemingly huge in her peripheral vision.
There was only a fraction of a second before Pennywise fired at the bar.
The sound of the shot was deafening, her right ear ringing and throbbing so painfully that for a moment, she thought her eardrum had burst. Padraig disappeared, but she had no idea if he’d jumped or if he’d been hit and fallen. She raised her right hand, slapping her palm over her ear as tears filled her eyes.
Pennywise used his grip on her left arm to shove her away from him. Disoriented, she spun, losing her footing. She crashed into a table with enough momentum that she and the table both went down.
She threw her hands out as she hit the ground, but she still banged her forehead on the floor hard. A second bolt of agony shot through her skull. Her ears were still ringing and for a moment, vertigo made her nauseous as the whole world spun drunkenly.
Gun, gun, gun.
Some still-functioning part of her brain was screaming at her. Her vision was black laces with specs of white. She had no idea where Pennywise was. Layla braced to feel the bullet, terrified that this time…fuck…this time he would shoot her.
She felt a whoosh of air as the front door opened.
He was leaving. Pennywise was leaving.
Her relief was short-lived when she heard Miguel yell, “Freeze!”
* * *
Miguel rounded the corner when he heard the shot fired, so he was in close range when Pennywise backed out of the pub. He didn’t let himself think about that gunshot or who the bullet might have hit.
He couldn’t or he’d fucking lose it.
Pennywise jerked at the sound of his shout, turning to him, gun still drawn. Miguel had told Finn to stay where he was, safe behind the cover of the building, but he could hear him breathing heavily, knew he was right behind him.
It was strange how a split second could seem like hours. Between Pennywise shooting the gun in the pub to him standing on the street couldn’t have taken more than five seconds.
And it was only a second more before the clown fired off a wild shot toward him. Miguel returned fire, and in the next second, Pennywise was flying back from the impact of Miguel’s bullets, hitting the sidewalk hard, his body jerking just once before he stilled.
Miguel ran over to him, kicking Pennywise’s gun from his hand even though it was safe to say the clown was incapacitated. He knelt next to him.
The whole thing couldn’t have taken more than ten seconds. To Miguel, it felt like a lifetime.
Miguel had shot the assailant in the shoulder, shattered pieces of the man’s collarbone poking through his skin. The other bullet had pierced his abdomen. The man was still breathing, though it was labored. And he was still conscious.
The sirens were louder now as one, two, three police cars roared to a stop in front of the pub, officers emerging, weapons drawn.
Miguel put his hands in the air, aware that he was out of uniform. He didn’t want any of his fellow officers to mistake who he was and what he’d just done.
“Put your guns down!” Aaron yelled, emerging from the third car. “It’s Miguel.”
Within seconds, Miguel was surrounded by police. Pennywise remained still on the pavement, not moving—he couldn’t. He was losing a lot of blood.
Miguel reached up and pulled the mask off…to find a young Caucasian man, probably in h
is late twenties. His face was filled with pain. Miguel had never seen him before.
An ambulance arrived and EMTs moved in as Landon offered Miguel a hand, helping him stand.
Maybe a minute had passed. Maybe a bit more.
And that was when Miguel remembered.
Finn. Layla.
Both had been in the line of fire.
“Shit!” He spun around toward the pub, sucking in a huge gasp of air when he saw both of them standing in the doorway, looking at him. Finn had his arm around Layla. Miguel could see a bump on her forehead. Next to them—thank God—was Padraig.
Miguel smiled, exhaustedly taking a step, then another, toward them. They met him halfway, the three of them clinging to each other in a three-way hug as all their fears from the past half hour came out in a rush.
“When I heard that gun go off—” Miguel said.
“I heard you yell freeze and heard him shoot,” Layla said.
“I thought you’d both be shot,” Finn added.
None of them let go, the embrace going on long enough that Aaron stepped up to them, placing a hand on Miguel’s shoulder to remind them they had an audience.
“You guys are going to have to let me in there to hug my son,” the older cop said. “Heard there was a shooting at Pat’s Pub over the radio and had twelve heart attacks on the way here.”
They broke apart with a laugh, as Aaron reached out and grabbed Finn into a tight fatherly hug. Aaron stepped back and studied his son’s face. “You’re okay?”
“Not a scratch on me, Dad.”
“What the hell is that?” Aaron asked, glancing down to see the gun in Finn’s hand. He turned to Miguel. “You armed him?”
“He armed himself, sir.”
“Good. I’m glad.” Aaron rubbed his jaw, clearly still pretty shaken up.
Miguel turned around to find Darcy, Gavin and Oliver all standing just inside the pub, none the worse for wear. Then his gaze shifted to Padraig. “Paddy? You okay?”
“Only injury sustained in the bar was the brand-new bottle of Crown Royal that got shot. Kinda pissed about that. Stuff’s not cheap.”
Aaron chuckled. “Call your dad. If Tris hears about this from anyone but you, he’ll freak out. Where’s Colm?”