“Odds are, she’s the teller misdirecting the deposits.”
The logic was sound, but they needed proof. Lauren stepped free of Ryder’s heavy arm. “Why don’t I go in, go to her station, and make a deposit as planned. It’s not like it takes military training to make a bank deposit. The receipt will have her teller number, and I’ll get her name. That way, Craft can find her in the HR files. Then we’ll have a better sense of her involvement.”
“You’re not going alone.” Ryder practically shoved her into the cab of the truck. “We’ll wait.”
Rose stood in the open door on the driver’s side, looking across the cab at Ryder. “You want to waste an entire day on worthless surveillance when we can get what we need and start running a background check?”
“Yes.” Ryder got in the truck and slammed the door shut.
The truck interior was warm, even from the few minutes they’d been away, but Rose’s open door let the fresh air inside. “Quit being an ass.” Rose rested his hand atop the open door. “It’s an easy in and out, no danger. Lauren gets the information, so we can determine if the redhead is the bank teller or if there is yet another person involved. Once we have the name and teller number, we can get a background check before the teller leaves work for the day.”
“No.”
“Great discussion, Ryder.” Lauren dug her fingers into his thigh. “Remember that conversation we had about you being an arrogant ass?”
“I don’t remember agreeing to send you into danger.”
“Please. It’s a bank. Video cameras and a bank guard.” Lauren needed to go, to take part in recovering her life. She needed to prove to Ryder that she could be a part of a team. She’d signed over their home like a sniveling victim. “We can even watch for a few minutes so you know who is in the bank to make sure no one suspicious goes in or out.”
“Your call, man.” But the expression on Rose’s face said he wanted this done.
Ryder took a breath as if trying to decide. So Lauren pushed. “Are you sure you don’t feel fear?”
“This isn’t fear. This is operational control. You’re a civilian and this is an unknown situation. Rose, what did you see inside?”
“Small branch, open layout with stands instead of a long row of tellers. Three stands, two tellers, one empty, plus a hallway leading to the back with a window looking out on the drive-thru. One teller at the drive-thru. No guard.” He grimaced. “Sorry, Lauren.”
Ryder’s face was unreadable. “How many customers?”
“Both tellers are female. They each had customers at their stands, one male and one female, which is how I saw the redhead without her seeing me. One customer in line, a female holding a kid’s hand. A businessman went in after we walked out. I didn’t get a look at his face, but dark hair, businessman haircut, navy suit.”
Lauren now felt like the most unobservant person on the planet. She hadn’t seen anything but Rose’s back. “Is the teller at the drive-thru a male or female?”
“All female, including the drive-thru.”
The question had been sarcastic, she hadn’t fully expected him to know, but apparently, Rose’s powers of observation exceeded the norm.
Ryder tugged absently at her hair. “You’re doing a good job keeping up.”
“Don’t be condescending.”
“I didn’t say you were stupid. I think you’re brilliant, but this isn’t the kind of work you’re used to.”
“Right. I’m an academic. That type of research and problem solving is nothing like the real world.” Her face burned with an anger she didn’t know she was harboring. “Do you even know what my dissertation is about?”
“Yes. We talked about it our first date. The first rough draft of history: the role of journalism in framing contemporary and modern understanding of war.”
“That’s a mouthful,” Rose commented. “What does it mean?”
Lauren was speechless. Ryder had repeated her words verbatim with as much detail as Rose gave of the bank layout five minutes ago. Was it training that made his memory so good, or did he have a partial eidetic memory? She tuned back into the discussion to hear Ryder explaining her research, and every word out of his mouth shocked her more.
“The stories journalists see and report become the primary sources for future historians. Through these journalism pieces, not the actual events, history is written. Or, as I prefer to call it, my woman is a genius.”
Pride and love swelled in her chest. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” Lauren pressed a kiss to his chin. “But I think I’m smart enough to walk into a bank and make a deposit.”
“Tricky,” Rose said with a dose of appreciation. “I like it.”
She batted her lashes at the man in the driver’s seat. “I have my moments.”
Ryder took a deep breath. “Point taken. Let’s finish the rundown, and then, yes, my highly intelligent wife can go make a bank deposit. Is there any place in the bank where one of Smythe’s men could hide?”
Lauren sighed. “You believe someone is staking out the bank?”
“We’re staking out the bank,” Rose said. “No reason to believe we’re the only ones.”
“Someone followed you to discover your routines before kidnapping you.” Ryder’s jaw went hard. “I’m not taking any chances.”
Rose let the byplay continue before answering Ryder’s earlier question. “There’s a row of cubbies to the right where they take you to sign away your first-born child, but I couldn’t see over the half-walls. But it’s a shit place to stakeout because there’s no exit.”
While they talked, the first two customers left. “That leaves the mom and the businessman. Let me get in there before the noontime crowd gets in and I’m stuck in a long line that will make you guys crazy.”
Ryder opened the door and slid out, helping her out the truck. “This goes against everything in me. I trust you, but I don’t trust the situation. Do you have your cell phone?”
Lauren patted her back pocket.
“Text me if there’s an unexpected delay, or I’m coming in.”
Lauren lifted onto tiptoes to settle a soft kiss on his lips. It was hard to be angry when safety was his concern. “See you in five minutes.” She didn’t look back, but felt Ryder’s focus on her as she crossed the parking lot. The double glass doors opened as she approached, and the businessman held the door open for her. She smiled. “Thanks.” Behind her, a man wearing work clothes followed. Ryder’s paranoia had rubbed off, making her nervous to have someone at her back. No wonder Ryder sat with his back to a wall. When you started to believe people were after you, the hair on the back of your neck prickled and fear ran like blood through your veins.
Lauren forced herself to look at the worker, and took note of the details. Snapback hat with a paint company logo matched his work shirt, and his calloused hands were splattered with white paint. Probably exactly what he looked like. Still. When Lauren noted that the non-redhead was free, she motioned the man in front of her. She grabbed a deposit slip and wrote it out for a small deposit to their joint account.
What if the redhead recognized the name? Her fingers shook and her writing smudged on the white deposit slip. Ryder and Rose were turning her into a nervous wreck. At the teller stand, the little girl tugged her mom’s hand. “Let’s go,” she whined. Lauren could so empathize. The longer the mom and girl tugged back and forth, the more Lauren worried that the painter would finish his deposit first.
Finally, the redhead directed the mom and daughter to a set of chairs off to the right. “It’s smart to open her a savings account this early. A personal banker will be with your shortly.” She looked up with a smile Lauren recognized as customer-service fake. The smile wavered when she saw Lauren. If the teller’s livelihood depended on tips, she’d be a better liar when she smiled. She definitely recognized Lauren. “Next,” the woman called. Her frozen facial features said she’d rather stab a knife in her eye than help Lauren.
She walked up to the t
eller with her brightest waitress smile pasted on her face.
“How can I help you?” the woman said in a high cheerful voice, and then she lowered it. “Mrs. Ryder, now is not a good time.”
Ryder slid his phone back and forth through his fingers while he kept his gaze on the door to the bank. A country station sounded through the small cab, rattling Ryder’s cage. “Can we change the station?”
“My truck, my station. You should have kept your car.”
The fast little Mustang was his booby prize for leaving the Army, but people remembered seeing it, and it attracted some unwanted attention when he was trying for stealth. The bike was easy to stow if need be, and it was fast. Efficient. Plus, he had needed money to fund his travels. “You know why I did.”
Rose rubbed the dashboard of the truck with a clean towel. “Yeah, well, I’m keeping my truck.”
“A truck blends around here, and silver may as well be invisible.”
“Are you telling me I can keep my truck?” Rose folded the towel and tucked it into pocket on the door panel. “Because I don’t remember asking for permission.”
“No, I’m just saying, the situations were different.”
“Right, because it wasn’t the car. You were trying to get rid of anything that reminded you of Lauren.”
The car had smelled like her, sweet summer sunshine and home. Every time he turned to the passenger seat, he pictured her sitting there. Heard her laugh. It fucked with his focus, so he’d had to get rid of the car. Not that it helped. Her memory didn’t need an anchor. She was wrapped around his soul. He hadn’t been able to tuck her safely out of his life. “I told Lauren.”
Rose turned down the radio. “Everything?”
“Enough.”
“Which means you told her dick. You keep things tight to the chest. It’s like you’re building your own suicide vest, and at some point, you’ll explode.”
Rose was right, in more ways than one. Ryder didn’t play well with others, but the days where he could maintain operational control by limiting information were long past. He hadn’t been able to fix things on his own. The team deserved to know everything. “We need better comms.”
Rose shook his head. “You’re so full of it. Changing the subject like I have the attention span of a fifteen-year-old.”
Now was not the time. He clicked his phone awake. “Comms?”
“On the list. It’s only been three minutes. Hold your shit.”
A man in painter clothes stepped out of the bank. What the hell was taking Lauren so long? Ryder pulled the door handle to open the door. “I’m going to go take a walk around.”
“Keep your ass in the truck. She’s fine.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lauren’s hands trembled as she set the deposit slip on the counter. Her fingers rewrote the words and numbers. Nerves. What she wouldn’t give for a dose of fearlessness. The redhead’s name was etched into a white plastic nametag. “I’d like to deposit this, please, Miranda.”
The deposit slip fluttered in Miranda’s unsteady hands before she fed the slip through the reader. In the waiting area, the little girl pounded a toy against the glass table in the waiting area. Each time the toy hit, Miranda’s shoulders hitched. The teller knew her name. She had to know the situation, but Lauren held back the questions. All she needed was the deposit slip.
Miranda turned her attention to the adjacent teller. “Shelby, why don’t you take a quick break before the lunch rush?”
The pretty blonde smiled, lighting up the room with a legit smile, something neither Miranda nor Lauren could muster at the moment. “Sure, call me if it picks up.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. Earl just got back from his doctor’s appointment. He can help if it gets busy.”
Shelby locked her computer and stepped around the corner.
Behind them, a personal banker introduced himself to the lady with the kid and the sound of the toy hitting the table stopped. Miranda’s eyes flicked toward the banker. Everything about her was tense, as if she feared her life falling apart. Lauren was okay with that. “Can I have my receipt?”
“Just. Hush.” Miranda typed into the keyboard as she spoke, and then turned to the side, as if trying to see if her coworkers could overhear. “Mrs. Ryder, I didn’t misdirect your mortgage payments. I—” The woman clamped her lips together when someone approached from behind.
Lauren heart hitched, nearly landing in her throat at the teller’s direct approach. She had been so focused on Miranda that she’d lost awareness of her surroundings. She turned, but the lobby was empty. A banker had led the mom and kid into one of the small cubbies, but the kid was still pounding a toy, this time on a window in the far corner. Lauren turned back to the teller. “We’re alone now. Finish what you were going to say.” The woman had been ready to spill her guts before the banker had moved closer.
Miranda focused on Lauren. A flush climbed her chest in nervous red splotches. “They have my son,” she hissed. “You need to go. Now.”
They had the teller’s son? Jesus, was there no morality left in the world. “How? Where?”
Miranda’s eyes flicked to a spot behind Lauren’s shoulder. “I don’t know.” This close up, streaks of makeup and concealer were visible around her heavily made-up eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. “I can’t risk him, so you need to go. Now.” Miranda printed a receipt and handed it over with a plastic customer-service smile. Only Lauren was close enough to see the paper tremble in her hand. “Have a great afternoon.”
Lauren reached out and grabbed the teller’s wrist instead of the receipt. “My husband can help you. Talk to me.”
“Is there a problem here?”
The man’s voice had an edge, so Lauren released her grip and turned. The banker she had seen from behind approached. He was tall, dressed in dark suit, a pale yellow shirt, and tie. His nametag said Earl, but Lauren recognized him from the other night. His face was still mangled; his eyes and nose were rimmed with bruises. Lauren’s heart nearly lurched out her throat. “Last time I saw you, you had a nose bleed.”
“Broken.” Earl’s face twisted into a feral mask that no sane person would mistake as a smile. “Car accident.”
“Right.” She just bet Ryder hit like a truck. Unfortunately, Ryder was still sitting in the parking lot. “The bruises haven’t even faded and you’ve forgotten the lesson he taught you. My husband isn’t some helpless female you and Smythe can intimidate.”
Earl unbuttoned his jacket to reveal a holstered weapon. “Your husband isn’t here, now is he?”
The kid toddled out of the banker’s cubicle and went straight for the table where she started pounding her toy again. The sound ratcheted Lauren’s tension. She swallowed and faced Earl with more courage than she felt. “Walk away while you can still walk.” As threats went, this was truth. Ryder had threatened to kill the man if he ever saw him again.
“Too late for that. Where is Mr. Ryder?”
Lauren bit her lip. What was the best answer to that question? Do not engage. Lauren twisted away from the teller stand and made it a few steps before the banker grabbed the kid and moved between Lauren and the door. He kept his voice low and calm as he used the kid as a shield. “I’ll shoot you before you make it to the door. Then this kid and Miranda’s kid. I got nothing to lose.”
Miranda came around and grabbed Lauren by the arm, her fake nails digging into bare flesh. Lauren glanced at the door just a few feet away. She might make it out, but Miranda wouldn’t. Neither would the kid.
The mom came rushing around the corner with a look of panic on her face. When she saw Earl, she put a hand to her chest. “God, she scared me. I’m so sorry. I was on the phone.”
Earl’s smile exceeded customer service fake. He could sell a boat to a man in the desert. “She’s fine.” The kid drooled over Earl’s suit. “You can finish up your call.”
“Are you sure?” The mom looked between the tense grouping in the middle of the bank, lo
oking like she was poised to spring into action. She brought her phone up to her ear. “Mom, I’ll call you back.”
While the woman was saying her goodbyes, Earl turned to Lauren. He ran a hand over the kid’s fuzzy hair. “What’s it gonna be, Lauren?”
Dread anchored her to the spot. She should have listened to a Ryder. Apparently making a deposit was beyond her. She gave him a tight nod. “It’s your way.”
The mom came over and held her hands out for the kid. “Sorry about that. Come here, Emma.”
With a black, warning look to Lauren, Earl turned to present a different face to the mom. “It’s no trouble. I love kids. Why don’t you go have a seat and we’ll finish up in a minute.”
“Sure.” The mom’s eyes flicked between Lauren and Miranda who probably looked to be locked in hostility. They were, but not the kind they could warn the mother about. “I’ll get Emma a snack and she’ll leave us in peace this time.”
The mom turned to the banker’s cubicle. While Earl’s back was turned, Lauren inched towards the door. If she could get Ryder inside, he’d stop Earl from using his gun. Earl closed the distance between them and lowered his face into hers. “You’re a selfish bitch willing to sacrifice all these people.”
“So anything that happens to them is my fault?” That’s the kind of logic that kept women with abusive men. Lauren didn’t buy into it. “Why not take responsibility for your own actions? You’re threatening them, not me, and if you shoot, it’s because you’re the psychotic asshole. Not me.”
He twisted her arm and pushed her deeper into the bank. “I’m a businessman. This deal was working for years before you stuck your smug nose into it.”
“You’re the one who pulled me into it when you stole from me.”
“Wasn’t stealing from you.”
The man was delusional. Miranda’s nails were digging a river on the underside of Lauren’s forearm.
Earl focused on Miranda. “Tell Shelby I had an emergency and had to take an early lunch. Something about the accident. Once we’re gone, you can let the mom and her brat know I had to step out. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you to keep your mouth shut.”
Live By The Team (Team Fear Book 1) Page 18