I took a breath. “Right after I graduated from high school, we had a fire in one of the barns and missed some payments, and that let Hank Vernon change the mortgage terms. He doubled the payments. We got so behind, we were in so much debt.”
I told the guys about them leaving for a two-month gig on a fishing boat in Alaska. The money from it would get us caught up. Lambing season had ended, and my three younger sisters and I were old enough to run the place over summer.
I swallowed, remembering the last time I saw my mom and dad. “Two weeks in, the boat went over. They were killed.”
“I’m sorry,” Thor said.
“Thanks,” I said. Such a small word for how much I missed them. “There was a bit of insurance money that let us catch up, but…”
“Your parents were gone.”
“Right,” I whispered.
“And you stayed.”
“I had to keep it going.”
Back before all that, my plan had been to leave Wisconsin to start my life—I had this whole round-the-world bungee jumping and rock climbing trek dreamed up. I was going to pick up odd jobs along the way and maybe finish college somewhere with mountains, or at least near a ski jump. But after that, it was all about keeping the farm. Not letting the Vernons win. I usually tried not to think of the life I’d planned before the boat accident. The secret truth is that I’d always hated the plodding predictability of farm life.
Thor said, “Bungee jumping is pretty dangerous, you know.”
“So are guns.”
Thor laughed softly. “So you managed to keep it?”
“Sure did.”
“Good for you.”
I nodded. “We expanded our cheese making operations, and started making these awesome wool comforters that we sell online.”
“Maybe I’ll buy one,” he said.
“Oh, please do. May I suggest the organic Paris Hilton Deluxe comforter?”
“Yeah?”
I snorted. “I’m just kidding. That one costs twenty thousand dollars. It’s kind of a pie-in-the-sky product that we made to cheer ourselves up. Like, Hey, maybe Paris would buy it. Our normal comforters are a few hundred bucks. They’re very well made.”
“Hey, you exchanging phone numbers back there?” Odin grated. “Can it.”
Wistfully I pictured nights sitting around the kitchen table with my sisters, freaking out over the latest vet bill or whatever. Times like those, one of us would say, ‘It’s okay because Paris Hilton will be buying these comforters for every room in her house soon, including one for her dog. Isn’t that great?’ It was our favorite inside sister joke.
“So why the hell are you working at his bank?” Thor whispered, interrupting my thoughts. “If you hate him so much?”
“Buying time. There’s a balloon payment coming up that we’ll never be able to handle. Hank said it could be delayed if I worked at the bank. But, you know—wink wink—we’re talking extracurricular duties. Which I’ve avoided because, let’s just say, no way.”
“I’m glad we hit his bank,” Thor said.
“Oh, me, too. It’s the best thing ever. Did you notice how nobody pulled the silent alarm? Everyone there hates him.”
“Wouldn’t’ve worked anyway,” Odin said from the front. “We took it out.”
“Would you say that’s true of all FCNs?” Zeus asked. “Wanting to bring down that owner?”
“Not as much as the branches Hank Vernon visits. They have 132 branches across the Midwest, dude. Vernon can’t terrorize them all. Hey, you know what would be awesome?” I fumbled for Thor’s arm and clutched it. “If you gave me one of those diamonds. That could go a long way toward helping us protect the farm. I could pay the entire balloon with one of those!”
Thor laughed softly. “I don’t think so.”
“What’s so funny? I showed you where they were. I could have it cut up and fenced or whatever. Isn’t that what you guys’ll do?”
“But the difference is that you would never get away with it, and we will,” Thor said.
“Oh, you will.” I let go of his arm. “I won’t, but the big, bad, god-named robbers will.”
“That’s right,” he said. “‘Cause we’ve got skills, baby.”
I smiled. “You’ve got skillz.”
“Amazing skills,” Thor said. “Like you’ve never seen.”
Something went tight in my belly. I was finding this Thor sexy and I didn’t even know what he looked like. Maybe that was part of it—the unknown. I said, “And you’re unable to impart these skills?”
Thor lowered his voice to a silky rumble. “We don’t impart them to just anybody.”
“Because your skills are so very god-like?”
He shifted next to me. “Very,” he whispered.
My face went red. “And you would never deign to impart them to the likes of me?” Was I flirting with this guy?
Yes!
“And why would we do that?” he breathed into my ear. “Why would we ever, ever do such a thing? What would persuade us?”
I can guarantee the subject was no longer diamonds. “Perhaps because you are benevolent gods,” I said.
“Well, we can be benevolent, it’s true. Benevolent beyond your wildest dreams. But we can also become quite wrathful.”
Heat speared through my core.
Somebody in the front cleared his throat. Warningly.
Thor seemed to straighten up. Were Zeus and Odin the bosses of him?
Anyway, I straightened up, too. Because, hello, I was blindfolded and flirting with one of the robbers who’d taken me hostage.
Thor asked me more questions. It was so easy to talk with him, and soon I found myself describing the book of humorous essays I was writing, ironically entitled “Adventures in Sheep Farming,” about life on a sheep farm. Someday I wanted to have real adventures and write about them, but it didn’t seem quite the thing to divulge at the moment. “Maybe ‘Adventures in Sheep Farming’ will be a best-seller and save the farm,” I joked. “You never know.”
“Your boss won’t be foreclosing on your fucking-g farm today,” Odin snarled from up front, somewhat threateningly. I liked it, because his threatening attitude seemed aimed at Hank.
“Why not?”
“That would look pretty fucking-g bad in the media, don’t you think?” Odin said. “You get kidnapped from this guy’s bank, and he decides to yank the family farm? You’ll be able to milk this for at least a few weeks.”
I sat up and leaned forward toward Odin. “You’re right.”
“Fuck.” Thor yanked me back and scootched me down. “Stay low or I’ll put you on the floor.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, feeling happy and hopeful for the farm. I could milk this hostage thing!
In a matter of minutes, these three had accomplished what I’d been dreaming of doing for years: they’d royally messed with Hank Vernon and derailed the foreclosure.
“Or what if I stayed gone after you released me?” I said. “Get a job in nowheresville and make them sweat. As long as I’m gone, the farm would be safe.”
“Yeah,” Odin said sarcastically. “You’d be picked up in about two seconds.”
“Well, I guess once you let me go, you don’t really have a say,” I said. “Maybe I’ll try to stay hidden.”
“Don’t play games.” Thor’s voice sounded soft, but rumbly, somehow. A silky kind of gravelly. “This shit’s not as easy as it looks. You’ve been cool, so that’s the advice I’m giving you. Staying out of jail is worth more than money or a farm. We’ll dump you somewhere, and you just play your hand straight.”
It was here I got my new idea. “Okay, this might sound like a radical notion,” I said, “but, how about if I tag along with you guys?”
A mean bark of laughter came from up front. Odin.
“No way,” Thor said. “It’s just…no way.”
“I could be the wheel man. I’m a freaking amazing driver. Let me stay your hostage.”
Thor chuckled so
ftly.
I imagined the media. If I disappeared indefinitely, the Vernons would never be able to touch the farm. Folks who disappeared from the Midwest got famous. People would probably send money. Maybe they’d start buying our Paris Hilton comforter. Maybe Paris Hilton would!
I could secretly get word to my sisters that I was okay, somehow. Though I knew in my heart it wasn’t enough. They’d want me back. My entire mood deflated at the thought of going back.
“You don’t have a wheel man,” I said. “What kind of gang doesn’t have a wheel man?”
No reply. Had I hit a nerve?
My head swam with visions of adventures with a bank robbery gang. Maybe just a few months! We’d split the money we’d steal. It would be awesome. I’m not the kind of girl to steal money, but what if we only hit Vernon-owned banks? I would feel pretty damn okay about that.
I felt fingers softly graze my forehead, brushing a lock of hair off my face. Thor. “There are rules to being in our gang.”
Rules.
I don’t know if it was the way he was touching me, or the rumbly intimacy of his voice, but warmth flooded through me at the idea of these rules, like they might be sexy rules.
I was not all that sexually adventurous in the real world, but this wasn’t the real world. I was a hostage now. It was like a holiday from the sheep farm life I secretly wanted out of.
I swallowed, senses humming. “I have no problem with rules.”
Thor said, “You might with these rules.”
They say in sales that when a person starts voicing objections, it shows they’re interested. Was Thor interested? Was he suggesting I might have problems with the rules because he hoped I wouldn’t?
“Why would I have a problem?”
“We are a very well-oiled organization,” he said, “demanding total obedience to the group.”
Excitement surged through me. “You don’t say.”
“I do say,” Thor said.
“That’s enough,” Zeus barked from the front.
“Right. Fine,” Thor said. “Nothing personal,” he whispered to me. This was the second time Thor had been reprimanded. Like he was the misbehaving ward of the two more surly robbers.
“Is this about that scene in the safe room? Because, I was just performing for the microphone. I don’t do that in real life. You know, different personalities talking to each other and so forth.”
“Put a sock in it.” Odin sounded tense. “Trouble.”
The van seemed to slow.
“Get down.” Before I could comply, Thor pushed me down on the seat. I felt a scratchy blanket thrown over me, and the metal of the door vibrated against the top of my head. Something was wrong. Shit.
The blanket and music muffled things, so that I could hear the guys arguing, but only make out random words. I imagined Thor leaning forward between the front seats. In my mind, they all looked like quite god-like. Angry and windblown and impossibly muscular.
Please let us get away, I thought. Yeah, I was thinking us even at that point.
Somebody mentioned the bridge. Which one? I felt us turn and speed up. Had they hit traffic? Had there been a change of plans?
I stayed down—I wanted to show they could trust me, and also not distract them. We drove in tense silence, motor gunning, my pulse racing.
After a while, there was more arguing up front. I felt us slow again. Thor swore. Odin barked to shut up. Zeus barked at both of them to shut up. It was then I knew what had happened.
I spoke up through the blanket. “You hit tractor pull traffic, didn’t you?”
“Crap!” Thor said. “Tractor pull?”
“And you decided to take the bridge and it’s worse,” I added.
I felt the blanket get yanked off of me. The cool air was nice. I wished I could see.
“It was supposed to be yesterday,” Zeus said accusingly.
“It got rescheduled for today,” I informed the men. “Because of rain.” Helicopter chops sounded above us. Sirens.
Odin’s voice: “There was no notice of that. There is no fucking official policy of that. Nothing written.”
Of course, when Odin said it, it came out as no fucking go-fficial policy of that.
“It’s just assumed,” I said. “Everyone in town just knows.”
“We’re stuck with a hostage in a traffic jam?” Thor said.
“We should’ve dumped her at the train,” Odin said.
“No, we should’ve known about this reschedule,” Zeus retorted.
“Fucking-g small town American,” Odin said. “So we smash out. That is what God made hostages for.”
“No, we sit tight,” Zeus said. “They don’t know our truck.”
“They’ll figure it out.” Odin said. “They’ll come down the line and fucking look in, and do you think a tied-up, blindfolded girl is gonna give us away? ‘Cause I’m gonna go with a Yes on that.” He mumbled something about bailing.
“Shut up and let me think,” Zeus grumbled, power radiating through his words. The men shut up.
“I’m guessing we’re on the Ganuck Bridge,” I said. “FYI, boys, that river’s shallow right now. In case you’re really thinking about bailing. You’ll crack your heads.”
Mumbling from the front.
“We’re on the bridge in a traffic jam, right?” I asked, wishing they’d just take off the blindfold. “With a cops and a checkpoint up ahead?”
“Yup,” Thor said softly.
“It could be a drunk check.” I said.
“Nah,” Thor said. “They’re looking for us.”
“And it’s too late for me to leave the van now? I could stumble around and play dumb.”
“Too many witnesses to see you leave,” Zeus grumbled.
“We’re fish in a barrel,” Thor said. “Basically.”
“Wait, they’re looking for three guys with a girl hostage, right?” My pulse raced. “What if I weren’t a hostage? Take my blindfold off. I’ll sit in front and be like, Hey boys! We’re late to the tractor pull!”
Zeus snorted. But I heard nothing from Odin and Thor. “No go,” Zeus said. “What’s to stop you from giving us away?”
“The fact that I’m on your side!”
Silence.
My hopes soared. They were thinking about it. Yes, these were bank robbers. But they were named after gods, and helping them get away fit my life’s mission of destroying Hank Vernon. Which gave me another idea…
“Here’s the deal,” I said, “If the next bank we rob is a First City National and we split it four ways, I’ll put everything I have on the line to get us out of this. I mean it.” My voice sounded strange to my ears. “You’re either shooting your way out of a traffic jam with a hostage, or you can let me be in.”
“Even if you mean it…” Odin’s voice. “You can’t bluff us out. They’ll have your picture. They’re looking for you.”
“I’m a woman. I can change my whole look. I can change my hair in two seconds if we have scissors. How much time do we have? They’ll never know. Anyway, they’re looking for me the hostage. They’ll have my bank photo and it already barely looks like me. I’ll talk us out of it—I know I can.”
“Let’s go for it,” Thor said beside me.
“She thinks it’s a game,” Zeus growled.
Thor said, “You like our odds better in a hot exit with choppers above us? And she showed us the diamonds. Hell, she tags along for a week. It’s better than a hot exit.”
Hot exit. I liked the outlaw lingo edge of that.
Odin said, “I’m going with Thor on this.”
Zeus groaned. Grudgingly.
“That’s two.” Thor was already untying the blindfold.
“Really?” I said. “I’m in?”
“Yup.”
These robbers seemed to work by a majority vote. Whatever two wanted, they did. I liked that, too. I felt it showed a healthy sense of fair play.
“You’ll be sorry if we start seeing police sketches of our fa
ces after we let you go, Melinda,” Zeus grumbled.
I was surprised they knew my name, but of course, it was right there on my badge. “I totally get it,” I joked. “Police sketches are so unflattering!”
Thor snickered and whipped off the blindfold.
It took a while for my eyes to get used to the brightness. And the amazing hotness of Thor, with his creamy skin and wavy blond hair and velvety blue eyes. He wore a dove gray business suit, but even so, he looked more like a soccer player from Scandinavia than a cubicle jockey. It was fitting he was named for a Norse god. I was guessing the big scowly guy with the short brown hair in the driver’s seat was Zeus.
The equally scowly, dark skinned, mop-headed guy in the passenger seat would be Odin. He wore squarish, scholarly-looking brown glasses, much to my surprise. I hadn’t gotten “spectacles” from his badass mode of speech. And, let me say, the glasses looked awesome on him. The glasses and his long girl eyelashes and dark mop of hair pushed his roughly handsome, unshaven face into the gorgeous model zone. I imagine it would be a great detriment in the robber line of work to be so gorgeous. His strategy for counteracting his runway model appearance seemed to be to swear profusely, seethe with bad-boy heat, and act totally disagreeable.
Focus, I told myself, sucking in a breath.
I looked all around. Cars jammed the bridge in front and behind us; some of the people had gotten out of their vehicles. In the next lane, a Frisbee flew through the air. Sirens and lights up ahead meant accident or police blockade.
“Cops are going car to car—I see a pair a dozen cars up,” Zeus said. “We have maybe five minutes. They may interview you. Can you handle it?”
“So I’m in?”
“Perhaps we should alert her to the rules,” Odin said.
Zeus shot Odin a hard look. There was something hunted and haunted about Zeus.
I was already taking off my stuffy gray bank teller jacket, wondering about these mysterious rules, and pleased I’d worn a skimpy, strappy white tank underneath, perfect for a tractor pull. I undid my bra and pulled it out from under my shirt. My first order of business was to not look like my teller photo.
“We’re all going to the tractor pull,” I informed them. “We want Big Bessie to kick ass. The three of you—suit coats off. Down to your T-shirts. Are there other pants in here you guys can wear? Nobody wears slacks to a tractor pull.”
The Hostage Bargain Page 2