Wild Break

by Tripp Ellis

  Teagan had stunning teal eyes with heavy liner and smokey eyeshadow. She showed off her figure with a tight top that hugged her torso and exposed her toned midriff. A black leather miniskirt conformed to her hips and drew the eye down her sculpted legs to her black stiletto heels. She looked ready for a night on the town. No doubt she would keep the attention of the regulars. She was exactly what we needed behind the bar.

  If we still had a bar.

  I introduced her to Alejandro, and the two shook hands.

  I could tell that Alejandro was having a hard time mustering the inspiration to interview her. After all, what was the point? We’d have to let her go on Monday, most likely.

  "Tell me about your previous experience," I said, kicking things off.

  "I've worked a lot as a beer girl, and I have bar-backed on a number of occasions. I think I'd make more money, and get groped less, if I was behind the bar. I'm looking for more long-term earnings potential. I'd like to open my own place someday, so I'm looking to get as much experience as I can. I’ve taken an alcohol safety training course, and I've also taken a bartending course."

  "So, you feel confident you could jump into the fray?" Alejandro asked.

  Teagan nodded. "I'm sure there will be a learning curve. But yeah, I can do it. I can do anything I put my mind to!"

  "Why don’t you come behind the bar and show me your stuff?" Alejandro said.

  Teagan smiled and accepted the offer.

  He put her through the paces and had her mix several drinks in rapid succession. He barked out orders at a frantic pace. She scooped ice into glasses and slung bottles, pouring liquor and mixables. She was a little uneasy and nervous at first, but she caught on really quick.

  Alejandro gave me an impressed glance.

  He showed her how to use the register and ordering system, and again, she took to it rather quickly.

  Alejandro and I exchanged another glance, and I knew he approved.

  "I'd like to offer you the job, pending a background check," I said.

  Teagan smiled. "Great. Check away. You're not going to find anything."

  "I need to be totally transparent," I said. "We are going through a transitional phase. The bar will be changing ownership, and I don't know what that means for the future. The position could last a few days, or it could be long-term. I wish I could offer you more job security, but I can't."

  She hesitated for a moment, and I could see the displeasure in her eyes. Teagan took a breath. "It's a job, and I need the experience. It will look good on my resume. If it lasts a few days, it lasts a few days. Whatever happens, I appreciate the opportunity.”

  "When can you start?" I asked.

  "When do you need me?"

  "Right now," I said.

  "I came ready to work," Teagan said with a smile.

  "Welcome aboard," I said.

  We shook hands, and Alejandro gave her employment paperwork to fill out.

  I left the bar and headed back to the Vivere and tried to figure out how I was going to come up with the funds to buy the property.

  14

  I knew what I needed to do. It was a long shot, and I wasn't holding my breath.

  I went back to the Vivere, took a shower and dressed in a dark gray suit, white shirt, and silk tie. I needed to look presentable, and like I had a steady, verifiable source of income.

  I grabbed my 9mm, press-checked it, and slipped the holster into my waistband for an appendix carry. I grabbed my helmet and gloves, then hopped on my sport-bike and cruised to Coconut Mutual. The roadways were beginning to get crowded again with spring breakers. It was Friday, and the bank was open until 4 PM.

  There was a security guard by the entrance, and several cameras monitored the premises. All the tellers were behind bulletproof glass. On the right-hand side of the lobby, there was a bank of cubicles. There were several larger offices against the far wall. Those offices had doors and glass windows. They were for the big clients. People that had money to throw around or invest.

  I cringed when I saw Finley in the lobby, talking to an account manager. She caught a glimpse of me and smirked. Her fingers waggled with a condescending wave, and a devious sparkle glittered in her eyes, as if to say good luck, loser.

  A man in a suit greeted me. His gold nameplate read: Martin. "Good morning. How can I help you today?"

  "I need a commercial property loan," I said.

  He smiled. "I can certainly help you with that. Right this way."

  He led me around a series of cubicles to his small square. I took a seat across the desk from him. Martin folded his arms, smiled, and looked at me excitedly. "So, tell me about the property, and the loan amount you are requesting."

  I gave him all the details. He seemed impressed.

  "Excellent. We can certainly help you with that. I'll need a loan application from you. You'll need to state your current income, retirement accounts, and any assets you own that may be used as collateral. Are you applying as a corporate entity, or as a sole proprietor?”

  “Sole proprietor.”

  “I highly encourage you to establish an LLC, or some other type of corporate entity, to protect your personal assets against liability. Although, in a situation like this, you will often have to use personal assets to guarantee the loan.”

  "How fast can I get approval?" I asked.

  "I’ll need five years of tax returns, records for the business for the last five years, projected cash flow for the life of the loan. I’ll need a third-party appraisal of the property and a detailed business plan.”

  My eyes glazed over. I didn’t have any of those things.

  “What if I just apply as a sole proprietor and use my personal income and assets?”

  “The bank wants to make sure you’ve got a solid plan and won’t default on the loan.”

  “Can’t you just foreclose on the property in the event of default? No harm, no foul?”

  “Yes, indeed. But there are costs associated with that. We don’t like the word default around here.” Martin smiled.

  “How about I just fill out the application and you run it and see what happens?”

  Martin cringed, but continued to indulge me. “How is your credit?"

  "My credit is great."

  Martin slid the application form across the table. “Go ahead and fill that out. We can try. All they can do is say no.”

  He already knew the answer.

  I frowned and began entering my name, Social Security number, address, and telephone number. The employment section gave me pause.

  "I have an unusual employment history," I said. "I currently volunteer as a deputy sheriff."

  "Fantastic," Martin said with enthusiastic eyes. "We love supporting law enforcement."

  "The bulk of my income is derived from story rights."

  Martin's face twisted with confusion.

  "I sold a script to Hollywood."

  His eyes widened again. "Oh, exciting!"

  His enthusiasm was all fake.

  "The Bree Taylor story," I said.

  "She was one of my favorites. So tragic."

  "I know." I gave a solemn pause. "Anyway, it's not a regular salary type income. The business I intend to purchase has a steady annual income."

  "Like I said, we would need outside verification of that. As long as the computer thinks you can pay back the loan, that's all that really matters," Martin said.

  I filled out the form, listed the advance I had been paid for the original story concept, plus the bonus that I would receive when the film actually went into production. I listed the Vivere as an asset, plus the other funds that I had acquired during my tenure as a clandestine agent. When I finished, I slid the form across the table, and Martin typed the information into the system.

  “You know, if this doesn’t work out, you might look into a commercial lender. They typically have less rigid underwriting standards, but you will pay higher interest rates.”

  He clicked send with an optimistic smile
, even though he knew I wasn’t going to get approved. He leaned back in his chair. “Now we wait."

  That anxious feeling twisted in my stomach again. I forced a nervous smile as I waited.

  Martin looked at the screen, and his face drooped. "Whoops! Looks like the system is down right now."

  I cringed.

  "This happens all the time," he assured. "We just have to wait a few minutes, then resubmit. No big deal." He smiled again. "Can I get you anything to drink? Water, soda?"

  "I'll take a bottle of water."

  He leaned over to a mini fridge in the corner of the cubicle and pulled out a miniature bottle of water and handed it to me. I twisted the top and took a sip.

  A deafening bang filled the bank.

  It was followed by the unmistakable rack of a shotgun.

  The terrified screeches of patrons filled the air.

  My whole body tensed. I didn't need this shit right now. I stood up and peered over the top of the cubicle. Three men in ski masks had entered the building. The security guard’s body lay on the ground near the entrance. He groaned in agony, covered in blood. He clutched his torso as the crimson liquid seeped from multiple abdominal wounds.

  One of the thugs grabbed a patron and put a gun to her head.

  It was Finley.

  "Down on the ground!” the ringleader shouted. “Nobody move!" Trip the silent alarm, and everyone in here dies!"

  The tellers exchanged terrified glances with each other behind the bulletproof glass.

  I drew my pistol from the holster inside my waistband and contemplated my next move.

  15

  The lead thug oversaw the operation and watched the front door. Another goon handled crowd control. The man holding Finley hostage moved to the tellers and demanded the cash on hand. He specifically demanded they not empty the drawers completely. Many banks had sensors that would trip an alarm if the last bill was taken.

  It was hard to say if the silent alarm had already been tripped. Even if it had, it would take the Sheriff’s Department extra time to get here with all the traffic.

  I had to admit, Finley wasn’t my favorite person at the moment, but I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

  "Don't do anything stupid," Martin hissed. He crouched under his desk. "Stay down and let them take what they want. Nobody else needs to get hurt."

  It wasn't bad advice.

  Unfortunately, the thugs had already wounded one man. They wouldn’t think twice about harming others.

  The ringleader blasted at the security cameras, taking them out one by one. Bits of plastic and debris rained down. The blasts left marks on the walls, speckling the drywall with holes. The deafening bangs caused terrified shrieks from the hostages and filled the bank with the smell of gunpowder.

  A thug dragged Finley along, collecting the cash from the tellers. He had no idea how much money Finley was worth—if he did, the thugs would probably hold her hostage and demand a ransom.

  The crowd control thug moved through the offices, emptying everyone into the main area and making them lay facedown on the floor, so they could be easily managed. Then he moved to the cubicles.

  "Move! Now!" Crowd Control shouted at the cubicle next to ours. Associates and customers scurried out and joined the others in the center of the lobby.

  I holstered my pistol and buttoned my suit jacket, concealing the weapon. Then I got onto the floor as the thug reached our cubicle.

  "Out! Now!"

  We both complied, and I joined the growing crowd of customers and employees. I glanced around, surveying the area. Through the glass doors I noticed something odd in the rear parking lot. An ambulance was parked at the curb, waiting. I hadn’t paid much attention to it initially, but it had been there since I first entered the building.

  The muffled sounds of sirens filled the air. Moments later, patrol cars screeched into the bank parking lot. Red and blue lights flickered in through the lobby doors.

  "Mother fucker!" Crowd Control grumbled.

  "It's no big deal," Ringleader said. "We adjust the plan. That's all."

  I glanced to Finley. Her terrified eyes locked with mine as the thug still held a pistol to her temple.

  Things were about to get ugly.

  The ringleader marched forward and grabbed a hostage from the floor. He shuffled her to the main doors. He put the shotgun to her back and pushed outside, crouching behind her. He shouted to the deputies, "Back off, or I start killing hostages!"

  The patrol officers had their weapons drawn, and they exchanged uncertain glances with each other.

  "I said back off, or she dies! That means get the fuck out of here!”

  The officers stepped back, holstered their weapons, got into their patrol cars, and left the premises. They blocked off the roadway and set up shop in the parking lot across the street.

  More patrol cars and ambulances arrived.

  Ringleader pulled the hostage back into the bank and tossed her to the ground with the others.

  The teller thug demanded the tellers join the other hostages. Once everyone was in the center of the bank on the floor, the teller thug shoved Finley into the group. She tumbled to the ground, tears streaking her mascara.

  Something told me this was going to be a long day.

  Crowd Control collected wallets and jewelry from the hostages and stuffed them into a duffel bag. There were tearful faces as women parted with wedding rings, watches, necklaces, earrings, and family heirlooms.

  "What the fuck, man?” Teller Thug grumbled to the ringleader. "You said response time would be slow during spring break. They got here in minutes!”

  "It's not a problem. We go to Plan B."

  Teller Thug stared at him for a long moment, then he turned his angry gaze to the hostages. "Where's the manager?"

  A man in his 50s with gray hair and a round face raised a trembling hand.

  Teller Thug yanked him from the ground. "Let's take a look in the vault."

  The manager stuttered, "I don't have access."

  "Bullshit!" The thug marched him down the corridor toward the vault.

  The ringleader dug into a duffel bag and pulled out what looked like C4 plastic explosive and blasting caps. He positioned charges at the front door and drove blasting caps into the malleable clay-like substance. He attached the blasting caps to a remote detonator. Then he moved to the rear entrance to do the same thing.

  "What's he doing?" Finley whispered.

  Plastic explosives weren’t easy to come by. But then again, with the right connections, and the right price, you could acquire just about anything.

  I figured the thugs would detonate the entrances if the tactical team tried to storm the bank. But that seemed unlikely on law enforcement’s part. Too risky with all the hostages.

  Perhaps the explosions would create a distraction and were part of their alternate escape plan?

  Crowd Control watched over the hostages while Ringleader wired the explosives. Teller Thug was out of sight with the bank manager. It was an opportunity that I might not get again.

  Making a move was risky.

  Maybe too risky?

  But I got the impression that these thugs were willing to harm anyone that got in their way.

  "I need to use the restroom,” a woman said to Crowd Control.

  “Hold it!” he barked.

  It was the momentary distraction I needed.

  16

  My fingers slipped the button of my jacket through the eyelet. I did so casually, trying not to draw attention to myself. I drew my pistol, took aim, and double tapped two rounds into Crowd Control’s chest.

  Muzzle flash flickered.

  A plume of smoke wafted from the barrel.

  Crimson slime spewed from puncture wounds.

  Blood splattered across the hostages as the goon spun around and hit the ground. He gasped for air, his lungs filling with fluid.

  Like lightning, I twisted around toward the rear entrance. My pistol hammered against my
palm as I squeezed two more shots at the ringleader before he could draw his weapon. Blood painted the glass doors behind him, and his body slumped.

  Chunks of skull and brain matter dripped down the glass.

  The lobby filled with shrieks of terror.

  The suspicious ambulance, parked at the curb, screeched away.

  I sprang to my feet and ran as fast as I could toward the corridor that led to the vault. I flattened my back against the wall near the corner and waited for Teller Thug to emerge.

  He had his pistol to the manager's head and marched him toward the lobby as a human shield.

  As soon as the manager cleared the corner, I lunged for Teller Thug’s pistol, shoving it skyward. With one hand on the barrel and the other on the thug’s forearm, I twisted the pistol around, cracking his finger in the trigger guard as I stripped the weapon. A swift knee to the belly doubled the man over. Then I hammered my elbow into his spine, dropping him to the ground.

  The manager ran free.

  I lorded over the thug with the pistol aimed at him.

  He rolled onto his back and reached for another weapon in his waistband.

  I squeezed two shots into the man's chest before he could fire back at me.

  Blood erupted from his chest.

  He groaned and gurgled and spit crimson slime. Then his body went limp as the last breath rattled from his lungs.

  I moved back toward the crowd and flashed my badge. "Coconut County. Stay calm. Don't move."

  I advanced toward the main entrance and examined the explosives. There were enough to level the bank.

  I carefully pushed through the front doors, holding my badge in the air.

  I waved the officers forward and shouted that the bank robbers had been neutralized.

  Daniels was on the scene by now, and he moved to greet me at the front of the bank.

  "Get the EOD Unit down here,” I said. “They’ve rigged plastic explosives with blasting caps. It’s not an immediate threat. I can render them safe. But might as well follow protocol and let EOD do it.”

  Daniels agreed, and before long, the EOD van had arrived.

  I moved back inside and assured the patrons that everything would be over shortly, and that they weren't in any danger.