Chapter 33
I dodge a guy in a baseball cap as he stomps down the sidewalk. We’re only a block away from the bank now.
“I’m assuming we aren’t going to just ask her straight up about it.”
Sterling presses a hand to my back, guiding me around a group of suits.
“Correct,” he answers, a hint of pride in his voice.
We both agreed he’s too recognizable, so I’m meeting Tegan in his place, but he put his foot down when I suggested coming alone. Honestly, I’m grateful for it. We make a good team.
“You’ll need to ease her into the conversation first. She thinks you’re here as a potential customer, so she’ll be eager to please, but if you mention Cox or her sister-in-law too soon, she’ll likely clam up, and then we’ll have lost our lead.”
“So, this is like recon.”
There’s a short huff of air that could be a laugh, but it’s hard to tell with him. “You watch too many movies.”
The sidewalk clears ahead of us, but his hand remains. I don’t mention it, selfishly pleased he hasn’t noticed.
“I need to know you’ll be okay in there,” he says.
“There’s a chance she’ll get defensive if she feels cornered, and you can’t let yourself get intimidated.
You need teeth to survive in this job. If you want to find the truth, you need to be able to do what it takes to pursue that truth to its conclusion.
Understand that it will get messy. You’ll upset people because you’re disrupting their comfort, and some will hate you for it, whether they benefit or not. Are you prepared for that?”
“Yes.” I am.
I will be.
It’s clear today but cold, the sky a shocking blue, the air damp from last night’s storm. Everyone’s covered up, thick scarves and long coats, heads down and shoulders up as they walk. My stomach grumbles as we pass a spot selling the most delicious-smelling waffles, and I’m tempted to stop.
I’m nervous. This is all I’ve wanted, and if I screw this up, I’ll lose Sterling’s trust.
We round the next corner, and the bank appears.
Sterling’s hand closes around mine, pulling me to a stop.
“Okay, deep breath. That’s it.”
I do as he said.
“It’s only a conversation. You’ll ask some questions and only push when necessary. You can do this.”
He sounds certain. It helps.
“Got it?”
I nod again.
“Say it back to me, Mia.”
Gosh, he’s beautiful.
I roll my shoulders back, stand a little taller. “I can do this. Now, let’s go before I’m late.”
I swear there’s a hint of a smile on his face.
* * *
Chance’s Reserve Bank is a fortress. With five floors of stone above ground and two below, it’s hard to imagine anyone brave enough to try to penetrate its defenses.
The public entrance is contained, manned outside by a single guard and inside by two more. The windows are small and barred with wrought iron.
It’s intimidating in every way.
Trust us, it promises, your money is safe here.
We enter.
Gleaming white tiles and arched, vaulted ceilings continue the impressive display.
Sterling points out a thick door on the west side of the hall. “Tegan will be down that corridor, with bank management.”
He explains how the offices upstairs are only accessible via a separate entrance, in case of emergency. It allows this part of the bank to be locked down without affecting regular operation.
“God forbid anyone take a few minutes off while there’s a robbery.”
The curl of his smile feels like a victory.
There’s a fresco on the floor, surrounded by Latin, and I’m sad to say I don’t remember a word of it.
The foyer is vast, tellers lined up behind an ornate brass counter that runs the length of the longest wall. Every employee is dressed to impress. Every surface shines.
This is who you want to trust with your valuables.
This is who Cox trusts.
It’s also, hopefully, where we’ll discover his secrets.
For midday on a Monday, it’s busier than I expected. There’s at least fifty people here. Sterling lets me lead, keeping distance between us, but the feel of him at my back is assuring.
I’m asked to wait, and at twelve on the dot, I watch Tegan cross the floor to greet me.
“Hi, Mia, is it? Lovely to meet you.”
Her fine blonde hair falls perfectly straight along her collarbone, and there isn’t a wrinkle to be seen in her uniform. She meets my gaze easily and smiles freely. She looks more like someone who would offer cookies at a bake sale, not a mastermind.
“Thank you so much for making time for me.”
Tegan smiles. “Of course.”
She gestures in the direction of the offices, and I can’t risk a look at Sterling, but I can see him hovering in my peripheral vision.
Then gunshots pierce through the quiet.
“Everyone on the ground—now!”
A second round of gunfire makes his point. We all drop.
Eight armed men, dressed head to toe in black, burst through the front entrance.
A hulking guy in a tight sweater drags in the guard from outside and throws him to the ground before barricading the door. The guard is pale as his hands and feet are tied.
His radio is ripped from him.
It shatters loudly on the floor. Someone screams.
On the floor beside him are the other two guards, already knocked out.
Another round of shots goes off.
“Empty your pockets! Bags on the ground!”
We all rush to obey.
Someone behind me is crying, and there are muttering pleas nearby. I press my rabid heart to the floor, twisting my head to find Sterling a few feet away, already watching me.
His steadiness is my lifeline. I grab hold with both hands and borrow from its strength.
I start memorizing as much as I can.
The assailants all wear matching ski masks, covering their faces.
They’re all adults, roughly the same height, all a similar build.
Each of them has the same black backpack strapped on their front.
All but one.
He stands out, wearing a motorcycle helmet in place of the mask, and moves deliberately while the rest are a flurry of activity, shouting and laughing as they terrorize us.
This is the leader.
“Hands on your head.”
We obey.
The leader stands over the fresco, keeping watch. His hands are covered with gloves, and his sleeves are strapped tight around his wrists. There’s no visible skin, bar a sliver between his coveralls and helmet. No visible marks. No tattoos. He won’t be identifiable after the fact.
The rest either didn’t get the memo or they want to be remembered. Rings, tattoos, scars. They’re trussed up like holiday poultry, ready for a sketch artist to make them famous. Strange. It’s the kind of obvious that makes you wonder if it’s a red herring. No one can be that obtuse, right?
Right?
“Start tying them up,” the leader commands.
No one argues with him.
He takes two of his friends and stalks toward the corridor on the west wall, the same door Tegan and I were meant to go through.
Screams follow.
Then silence.
Five of his team remain in the hall, making their way through the crowd, pulling an endless amount of zip ties from their backpacks, binding people’s hands as they go.
One of them is wearing a loose silver wristwatch. It jingles as he bounces around the room. His glee sends ice down my spine.
When fear makes people happy, the worst things you can imagine won’t touch the depths of their depravity.
The leader returns with his hand twisted in a woman’s hair. Her feet drag along the tiles as they walk, one heel already gone. She’s crying.
He throws her to the feet of one of his crew. “That’s the manager. She’ll have the vault codes.”
His friend nods and holds her at gunpoint while the leader starts giving orders.
It’s simple; we’re all going to be restrained and moved. If we’re calm, no one gets hurt. They get what they want, and we get to walk away.
The manager’s hands are shaking.
They’d better be right about no one getting hurt. I hate the thought of leaving her with these men.
The leader stops in front of the one who dragged in the guard. “Get everyone in the back. Use the offices to the left.” His friend nods, but the leader slaps his chest before he can walk away. “Be quick about it.”
The Hulk grabs the hostage nearest to him by the back of his shirt, which stretches around his throat. He scrambles to his feet.
“All right! Move the fuck along.”
Everyone except the leader yells. It’s jarring, and if it’s a tactic to keep us on edge, it’s working.
Instead, he stands guard while they poke and prod and sneer, quietly watching over his twisted kingdom. Like he has all the time in the world.
They start to move us in groups. The closest first, working their way across the floor. It’s impossible to see where they’re taking them; once they reach the corridor, they turn left and disappear.
Then they return and repeat.
Tegan and I are still close to the eastern wall, where she greeted me before they came in.
It’ll take a few minutes for them to reach us, so I’ve got time to think.
Beside me, Tegan is shivering. Tear tracks cut through her blush.
I reach out and squeeze her hand.
Then I lift my head and seek out Sterling.
He’s staring. Okay? he mouths.
I check that no one is watching, then nod. He doesn’t look relieved; in fact, that’s his planning face. Christ. I hope he isn’t thinking of doing anything heroic.
A few feet away, I watch as the leader bends to zip tie an older man in scuffed jeans and heavy brown boots. They look like the kind my uncle wears on the farm—thick and sturdy. Working boots. Not the sort you need to wear into a bank, but then this was probably just an errand for him. In and out.
Quick and painless.
That’s when the shouting starts.
It’s the man in heavy boots. He’s terrified.
The leader grabs him by the throat and lifts him onto his feet. The sounds of his struggling are loud in the shocked silence.
Sterling gets to his feet. “The fuck are you doing? Let him go.”
I push up to my knees, but I can’t stop him.
I’m too far away.
The older man is still choking. He aims a punch at the leader’s stomach, but it mustn’t connect because there’s no reaction. The leader does drop him though, punching the poor guy once in the nose before Sterling is across the floor and in front of him.
The leader brings his gun up.
Aiming straight between Sterling’s eyes.
Sterling, finally seeing sense, takes a step back. “I’m not asking for trouble, okay? I’m trying to help you.” He holds his hands up in front of him.
“Oh, really?” comes the leader’s response. There’s no hint of an accent, no way to really tell what he sounds like through the helmet. It’s smart.
He gestures with his gun, and Sterling takes another step back.
“I don’t think you want to add a murder charge today, do you?” Sterling’s voice is low and controlled.
I don’t believe it. He’s still fucking calm.
We’d better make it through this alive because I’m going to kill him.
The leader cocks his head. Like he’s playing a game. “You sure about that?”
The older man tries again, pushing up to his knees, only to be backhanded with the gun. Blood splatters on the tiles.
I hope, this time, he stays down. For his sake.
Meanwhile, a different mask, this one leaner and jumpier than the Hulk, grabs Sterling before he can move, kicking the back of his legs.
I watch Sterling fall to his knees, his jaw tense.
His gaze is furious.
The jumpy one fits a zip tie around Sterling’s wrists, pulling tight enough that I can see the skin go white.
Fuck.
The leader hovers over the older man, waiting.
He stays down.
“J,” the leader says over his shoulder, and the guy beside Sterling looks up. “Keep an eye out. I’m gonna make sure this asshole is situated.” Then he leans down and grabs the older man by the collar.
“Sure thing, T.”
Using initials instead of names—that’s smart. They prepared for this.
I don’t know if that makes me more comfortable.
T drags his prize toward the offices along the west wall, but he turns right. He must be throwing him into a room by himself. Cut off from the rest of us.
A door slams shut. The seconds pass, and no sign of T.
I’m praying there won’t be a corpse in there later.
Tegan is pulled off the ground, still shaking. I stand, stepping between her and the guy who moves to touch her. He stinks of cologne.
I look over his shoulder, and my heart lurches.
Sterling is herded to his feet, and I know with a certainty that they’re going to separate us.
I won’t even consider what might happen if he’s put in the same room as the other guy.
There are only seconds left to decide.
Stay with Tegan or try to get to Sterling?
What the hell do I do?
* * *
Make Your Choice:
stay with Tegan (go to 40)
find a way to Sterling (go to 53)
go back (go to 20)