by N. S. Moore
I’d needed money then, having blown what I took with me from my family. Being a hired gun for Deke’s crew hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea.
Until recently.
Until now.
His eyes narrow darkly again. “Yeah, well, let’s just hope that you get lucky twice.”
I don’t believe in luck. Never have. If there’s such a thing, my life wouldn’t be in the shithole it is right now. I wouldn’t have had to go to such extremes to shake myself free. Yet again.
Whatever. It’s over and done.
“Look, let me worry about my fucking self. You just worry about being where you’re supposed to be.”
Now the douchebag smiles. “Oh, don’t you worry. With what you’ll be hauling, I’ll be there.”
Yeah. I’m sure.
Without another word, I grab what I need and leave. No one says anything to me—no well wishes, not even a “fuck you” for the road. Like that matters. We’re not friends. They’re more like parasites. They suck the life out of you and then move on when they’re done.
I’m done.
I’m just so fucking exhausted. Maybe tonight I’ll actually be able to sleep.
In a prison cell.
In the morgue.
Either way, it will be a nice change of pace.
Once I leave Deke’s shitty apartment, I go back to where I’ve been crashing. Fuck. She’s still here. Ciji. Lying in the bed exactly where I’d left her yesterday. What the fuck kind of name is that? Anyway, she’s been hanging around since I won her in a poker game last weekend, and she won’t leave.
“Code?” she asks sleepily. Maybe to someone else she’s sexy, but right now I think she’s a hot fucking mess. Mascara smeared down her face, and her hair like a rat’s nest.
“Yeah,” I say distractedly, throwing my shit in a bag so that I can get the hell out of here.
She stands up completely naked. I’ve got mild appreciation for the look, but now’s not the time. She was a good lay—sucked cock like nobody’s business—but I’m done. Without a word she comes over and puts her hand right over my crotch and massages it. I push her hand away.
“I’m outta here.”
“Now?” she whines.
Clearly the concept of leaving is lost on her. Good. Let her stay here and pay this week’s rent. “Yeah, now.” Without a backward glance in her direction, I leave.
And breathe a little bit easier.
I’m not planning to go back there anyway. After the bank, I’m going to blow this town for good.
The walk to the bank takes a while. There’s traffic. There’s people.
Or maybe my steps are a little bit slower. After all, I’m technically walking to my own funeral.
There’s a pleasant thought.
With time to kill, I sit my ass down across the street from the bank and wait. There’s not a lot of traffic coming in and out of the bank at this time of day. It’s a good thing too. I’m just waiting for one old guy and then I go in.
Actually, there’s a lot of other traffic going on around the bank, but nothing really in it. Too bad we didn’t stage a car accident a few blocks over that would delay the arrival of the cops. Deke isn’t smart enough to come up with that one.
And I really hadn’t given it a thought until right fucking now.
Brilliant.
Way to try and save your own ass when it’s too late.
I see a flash of pink across the street and look up. A woman’s walking into the bank—young, small, long hair, great legs, short skirt.
Nice.
That got more of a rise out of me than Ciji’s naked body.
I’m losing it. Seriously fucking losing it.
I’m getting jittery because it’s almost time. My heart is racing, and I can feel the adrenaline starting to really pump.
I jump up and do a quick couple of laps around the block, keeping my eye out for the one old guy I need.
Then I see him.
I hear that damned spiritual song echoing in my head again. It’s like the fucking mantra of my life.
Let’s do this.
Three
Wren
My stepdad took me hunting once. I was ten, and I didn’t want to go, but my mother thought it would be some good bonding time.
My mother didn’t know much of anything. It’s one of the reasons she ended up dying.
But, back when I was ten, I did what I was supposed to. I went on the miserable, cold, early morning trip to the woods and waited in silence beside my stepdad for hour after hour. My hands were practically numb, no matter how tightly I tried to bury them in my coat.
Then, finally, finally my stepdad shot the deer.
I still remember the sound of the shot. And the sound of the deer’s body falling onto the autumn ground.
I heard it again when I was fourteen and my mother shot my stepdad. His body fell onto the carpet.
Anyway, that’s what I think of when I hear the shots in the bank. I watched the guy pull the gun out and aim at the ceiling, so there’s no reason to be so shocked by the sound.
But I am. I’m back to those woods when I was ten. I’m back to our apartment when I was fourteen.
The crack of noise just paralyzes me.
Everyone is screaming in the lobby around me. Throwing themselves onto the floor. Ducking for cover. Trying to run out the door. But I just stand like an idiot, completely frozen with a nauseated panic I thought I’d never experience again.
I’m still staring at the guy with the gun, the one I noticed before, but my vision is blurry. One small part of me recognizes that there are more guys who must be in on the robbery. They seem to come out of the woodwork—all wearing rubber Halloween masks.
Two of them go over to the row of tellers. I assume they’re demanding cash, since they’re handing over big empty canvas bags. Two of them seem to be in charge of crowd control because one shoots the security guard—in the leg—and the other is rounding up people into one corner of the lobby.
And here I stand. Still frozen. Feeling like that helpless ten-year-old girl.
“Move!”
I hear the voice, but it doesn’t really register. I don’t even realize it’s aimed at me.
“I said move!” This time, a skeleton mask appears right in my face with the words. Then hands comes out of nowhere, grab me, and throw me to the floor.
Literally throw me.
It hurts. It knocks the wind out of me. I’m not used to be thrown around like a garbage bag. I’m in an awkward heap on the floor, gasping and trying to figure out what part of my body is hurting so much.
Then another hand reaches down and pulls me back to my feet. “Stick to the plan,” a low, gruff voice bites out.
It takes me a minute to figure out he’s talking to the man who threw me and not to me.
The guy who pulled me to the feet is the sexy man I noticed earlier. His big hand is still wrapped around my upper arm, but it’s not hurting. Basically, he’s the only thing keeping me on my feet.
He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to me, though. He glares at his fellow robber until the other guy turns away with a muttered string of curses.
It’s starting to quiet down in the lobby now as people stop screaming. They’re being corralled into the corner.
“Two minutes!” one of the guys near the tellers calls out.
I’m sure someone has pressed the silent alarm. This bank has good security, and there’s no way to keep that from happening. Two minutes before the cavalry arrive.
I’m not sure how they expect to walk out of here alive.
The sexy guy, who is still holding my arm, reaches out to take a metal briefcase from an elderly man who is on his hands and knees on the floor.
“No,” the old man gasps, struggling to hold onto the briefcase.
The sexy guy easily shakes off the clinging hands and pushes the old man back down to ground.
Then, all of a sudden, a lot seems to be happening at once.
That’s the wrong way. The exit is in the opposite direction. I have no idea why he’s going back there.
The guys with the bags filled with cash are following us. They’ve each grabbed someone from the lobby too—to use as a shield or a hostage or something. It’s all so surreal I can barely keep up.
I’m just being dragged with this sexy guy who is part of a bank-robbery crew, and there’s nothing in the world I can do about it.
It’s my birthday today, and less than an hour ago Philip was fucking me in the back of my Mercedes.
And now I see my father standing halfway down the wide, ornate stairs leading down from his office. He’s got silver hair and an expensive suit on, and he’s just as frozen with shock as I was.
But when he sees me being dragged toward the back with these criminals, he shouts out, “No! No! Leave her alone!”
I’ve never heard him shout before. Not once in my life.
And, strangely, the fear in his voice is what finally breaks through my stunned, panicked stupor.
I wrench my arm away from the guy’s grip and try to run back toward my dad.
I actually get away from him. I think I must have surprised him, since he’s obviously a lot stronger than me. My whole body hurts, and my vision is still blurry, and I smell a burnt scent from the guns that’s so familiar and makes my stomach roll with nausea.
But I stumble away as fast as I can. I don’t make it very far when a strong arm wraps around my middle and pulls me back toward a lean, hard body.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” the guy says—same sexy guy as grabbed me before. “I need you.”
I don’t want to be needed by a bank robber, even a sexy one with a tattoo and a five o’clock shadow. I’m used to going along with whatever people want, but there’s this surge of resistance that suddenly swells up inside me.
It explodes in one choked word. “No!” I struggle against his powerful grip, even though he’s a lot bigger and stronger than me. I don’t even think about that. I just need to get away.
“Damn it,” the guy mutters, dragging me with him toward the back offices again. “Stop your fucking wiggling.”
“Let…me…go!” I throw my elbow back, hoping to connect with something that will hurt him. Instead, I connect with the metal briefcase. The shock of pain is so intense that I momently see white.
He takes advantage of my brief limpness by repositioning my body so I’m even more under his control. “Stay still,” he bites out, gruff authority in his tone, “or you’re going to get yourself killed.” He pushes me down a hallway, after the rest of the crew.
It’s an outrageous thing to say to me. “Fuck you, asshole! You’re the one who’s going to get me killed.”
His arm is now tucked under my tits, and it’s trapping both of my arms. I can’t swing out to hit him. And I don’t have the leverage to use my legs, since he’s half-carrying me as he strides through the hall. “I’m not going to kill you. I’m just borrowing you for a while. So shut the fuck up and do what you’re told.”
My mind is a whirl of terror, outrage, fury, and shock, and my body is completely out of my control.
This guy has control of it. Completely. He says he’s not going to kill me, but I have no reason to trust him.
He’s the criminal. He’s the bully. He’s the bastard.
He’s the one who is taking me hostage.
Four
Code
Fucking hostage.
The plan was to take a hostage each for cover, but to let them go as soon as we’re clear. I thought I picked a quiet one who would easily do what I want. Shit, was I wrong.
Now I’ve got this chick who won’t stay still, and although her skirt keeps riding up and her tits feel good on my arm, I just wish she’d shut up so that we can get out of here.
The truth is, this whole situation feels like it’s spinning out of control. All of the other hostages are being somewhat cooperative. How the hell did I end up with this head case? And why the hell did I underestimate her so she could actually get out of my arms?
I need to get my head back in the fucking game, or it’s all over.
I’m feeling more than a little frustrated, so I pull her tighter against me until I hear her gasp. “Stop. Fucking. Moving.” I say it through clenched teeth, and she finally calms down.
I can see the make-shift exit—a window that’s been blown out to take us out to an alley where Deke is waiting. If anything goes wrong, there are several smaller crawl spaces that we’re all supposed to scatter to like rodents until the coast clears.
I’m supposed to be at the front of the line, but because of this chick and her near-escape, I’m at the back.
Not that it really matters. I just want to get the fuck out of here.
This is almost over. I’m almost free.
I can see sunlight from the blown-out window. I can hear the sound of Deke’s bike revving. Waiting.
Three more feet and then…
Bang! Bang! Bang!
What the…?
Chaos explodes all around, and I stop in my tracks and almost trip over the chick in my arms. Deke shot Axl. And then, fuck it all, he shot Axl’s hostage too—a middle-aged woman. Wait? What? Why would he…? And then it hit me. I was supposed to be first. I was supposed to hand Deke the case with the diamonds.
I was supposed to be shot and left for dead.
Fuck.
Everyone is screaming. Deke is losing his fucking mind, asking where I am. Where am I? Frozen to the fucking spot because I can’t believe this shit is actually happening.
“There,” the chick whispers to me, pointing to a doorway. “It leads to the basement storage. There’s another exit down there.”
Seriously? She’s giving me an escape route? Clearly she knows that something’s gone wrong, and for whatever reason—self-preservation or whatever—she knows that if we go through that window, we’re not getting far.
I loosen my grip a little and head carefully to the basement door. Someone’s dropped their bag of cash. Purely out of reflex, I reach out and grab it. We move quickly to the door. Open. Close. Silence. No one notices. No one is coming up behind us. It doesn’t seem possible. The cops must not have burst in yet, and everyone else must be too scared. I wonder about the guy that she had tried to run to.
How did it end up that we’re the only two fucking people in a quiet room when the world is going crazy on the other side?
“Where now?” I whisper against her ear, pulling her close again. I can probably put a little distance between us, but I’m not ready to trust her yet.
Even if she did just save my life.
“Back corner,” she says hesitantly. “There’s an old access. It’s blocked by some boxes and it leads to an access tunnel.”
Now I do pull back and spin her around to face me. It’s dark, and I can’t fully make out her features but I can see her eyes are wide with fear. “If you’re fucking lying to me, I’ll kill you.” My words are low. Deadly calm. But I need her to believe me. I need her to get me out of here.
“I…I’m not,” she stammers.
“How do you know about this exit?”
“My father...when I was a kid and he had me on the weekends, he would come here to work. I’d just play around the building. I used to come down here and…and explore.”
Yeah, I don’t know whether to believe that or not. This chick has some serious issues.
And we’re running out of time.
I pull her in close again—but this time face to face. “I’m going to let you go,” I begin, making sure my voice conveys menace. “I want you to get to the door and get us into that tunnel. If you so much as make a sound or try to get away, I’ll kill you.” For emphasis, I put the gun under her chin
so that she can feel the metal. “Understand?”
She nods and then immediately moves to the back corner. She’s quick, I’ll give her that. Less than a minute later, she’s moved the boxes just enough that nobody will notice, but wide enough that we can squeeze through.
It’s dark, and it smells, and she closes the door and faces me. “Now where?” I ask. Wordlessly, she reaches for my arm and pulls me further into the darkness. For all I know, she’s leading me to where the cops are waiting, but I’m kind of screwed no matter what at this point.
“Where does this go?” I demand and yank her to a stop.
“It will end about two blocks over. It’s an old access tunnel that was supposed to be blocked off, but it’s not. There’s a ladder farther in that leads to an alley behind the movie theater.”
Well…shit. How was it that this bank wasn’t hit more often if it was this easily accessible? Which is exactly what I ask her.
“The access only opens from inside. Not outside. People want in most of the time. Not out. I don’t think anyone else even knows about it. I just happened to run across it as a kid.”
“You better hope that your luck continues or—”
“You’ll kill me? Yeah, I got that.”
Seriously? Did she just fucking mock me? I’m momentarily stunned but recover. “Make sure you do,” is all I manage to say as we continued on in the dark. My mind races. What the hell am I going to do once we even get out of there? If things had gone as planned, I would have tossed her aside once we were out of the bank and been on my way.
Now what do I do?
It’s dark. It smells. And it’s wet.
I can see a hint of light up ahead. I can’t believe that she was actually right. We get closer, and I can hear voices. At the top of the stairs we stop, and I pin her against the wall with my body and motion for her to keep quiet.
She squirms a little against me. I know it’s because the wall is fucking gross, but she’s got a kick-ass body, and in that moment all I can think of is forcing my hand under her skirt and fucking her right there against the wall.
I smirk at the thought of what little-miss-prim would do if I even tried.