RELENTLESS

by HelenKay Dimon

  It all seemed so normal, but he knew. A guy didn’t devote every minute of his adult life, almost eighteen years, to service and rescue without picking up a few cues.

  “Get behind me.” This time he looked at her.

  She had the same earpiece and heard the order, but whatever she saw in his expression had her shoulders stiffening as the color leached out of her face. “How bad is it?”

  “I’m thinking pretty bad,” he said as he dropped eye contact. The pale skin and wide eyes made him want to comfort her. But she needed his protection right now, not a reassuring hug. “Hold on to the back of my shirt and stay close. We’ll walk to the door.”

  “Right.”

  “Do not stop.”

  “Robbery?” The word was little more than a puff of air on her lips.

  In her stupor, she stumbled back and bumped into the woman in front of her. Ben mumbled an apology as he wrapped an arm around her and started to turn. In the whir of activity, with people coming in and out and walking around them, he saw the teller on the far end look up and go into a sort of trance. Ben followed his gaze to the jacket crew.

  Now or never.

  A sharp bang rang out, echoing off every surface and mixing with the screams of the bank patrons.

  Too late.

  On instinct, Ben dropped down, spinning as he went and dragging Jocelyn with him. His knees hit the hard floor as he took the brunt of their joint weight. Ignoring her yelp of surprise and the thud of her body rolling into his, he tucked her underneath him with his chest against her back and his weight balanced on one elbow.

  “This can’t be happening again.” She whispered the words low enough for only him to hear.

  The despair in her voice pulled at him. “We’ll get through this, too.”

  “Promise me.”

  He couldn’t say the words. Planted a quick kiss on the back of her head instead.

  If this was the newest in a line of escalating attacks, this one blew the others away. Well planned and performed in tandem. They had doubled the number of attackers and dressed them up for show.

  The risks skyrocketed with a move like this. Cars on the street and people with cells and alarms. It would be hard to get out now that they were in, especially since they weren’t running up to the tellers and demanding cash.

  But the fact that had Ben’s gut twisting was it would be too easy to take Jocelyn out in this situation. Just make it look like part of a bank robbery gone bad, and quiet her before they figured out what it was she supposedly knew.

  He vowed right then not to let himself get separated from Jocelyn. If that meant going out in a suicidal hail of gunfire, he’d do it. He just wished he’d spent a few minutes of their time together teaching her to shoot and how to defend herself.

  Tomorrow. There would be a tomorrow and he’d do it then.

  His hand hovered near the weapon hidden by his left ankle as his gaze shot to the door. The room fell into a shadowy gray as two men by the floor-to-ceiling front windows lowered the shades, blocking out the street beyond.

  Ben had no idea where the masks and guns came from, but the men had both. And it all happened in less than ten seconds.

  With a gun and a knife, Ben could take on a few of them. He counted four masked gunmen. No way could he win a shoot-out against that many without civilians getting hit in the cross fire. Joel and Connor and the police, whom Connor would’ve surely contacted, evened the odds, but they had to get inside to be useful.

  Rather than risk drawing attention or starting a bloodbath, Ben ignored the weapons. For now. He thought about the small silver ball in his ear. “Joel, you getting this?”

  “Yep.”

  “Everyone shut up.” The gunman in the middle of the room held up his weapon as he shouted his order.

  Shoes clicked against the floor as two more armed men circled around him, both with their faces hidden. They paced through the curled and crying bodies of bank patrons scattered around the floor and hiding behind any desk or counter they could find. Most people sat huddled in groups on the floor and soft wailing came from Ben’s blind side.

  The gunman by the front door swung his gun over the room and stopped on a businessman. “Everyone down now. Phones and wallets on the floor in front of you and no talking.”

  Clothing rustled and feet shuffled as the last of the bank patrons crawled to the floor. A fierce tremble ran through Jocelyn as she lay half on her side with her legs out behind her. Ben smoothed a hand over hers on the ground, hoping his touch would help calm her down.

  “Get on your knees,” he whispered right into her ear. The theory being, with her feet under her, he could get her up if the chance for escape presented itself. The gunmen had to load the money and soon if they wanted to make this quick, which was the point of a bank robbery. Which was not why Ben thought they were here.

  Ben barely made a sound but the man in the middle turned toward him. In two steps, he was on top of them, sticking the barrel of the gun in Ben’s face. “You got something to say, hotshot?”

  Ben shook his head, bowing until his forehead almost touched the floor beside Jocelyn’s prone form in what he hoped looked like a move of deference. He really wanted to hide his face and keep hers down in the event the men were here for them and hadn’t picked them out yet. When the scuffed shoes finally disappeared from in front of his nose, Ben eased his chest back up and ran a hand through his hair.

  “This, folks, is a robbery, and anyone who talks or moves gets killed.” The man in the middle of the room turned around in a circle as he talked in a low, gravelly voice. “Anyone touches an alarm or yells, dies. You stay calm and you get to walk out of here in a few minutes.”

  Ben looked for bags, for any movement toward the counter to gather money. Nothing. The attackers stood, weapons up and ready, taking their time and staking out positions across the room. They forfeited speed and quiet in favor of getting the people on the floor and the visibility to the outside blocked.

  With a nod from the guy in the middle, who clearly acted as leader, two of the men broke off and headed to the slim staircase that ran to the balcony above them. Ben saw an open landing in a square around the main part of the room. There were a few doors up and off to his right, but nothing else up there but a walkway.

  Ben guessed the men could gain a strategic position from above, but they walked up the stairs and kept going until they hit the emergency door. None of their actions made sense. Ben expected sirens any minute. This type of crime only worked if the attackers made a rush for the money and then raced to a waiting car. Even then it was a high-risk operation in the middle of a busy business day.

  And if they wanted Jocelyn, why not grab her?

  He wasn’t familiar with this bank but he could see the door to the safe right there on the main floor. He had no idea what could be upstairs that would warrant this kind of attention from gunmen who should want to grab and run.

  But they didn’t run. They didn’t even move fast.

  That nerve at the back of Ben’s neck ticked. He recognized the pull for what it was—a fresh warning. Tension flooded through him with a kick of adrenaline streaming right behind. This was no in-and-out. No grabbing of the people in charge. These guys had something else in mind. Likely something that involved Jocelyn.

  “What are they doing?” She asked the question to the floor, low and barely above a hum.

  “No idea.”

  But he knew they were all in trouble.

  Chapter Ten

  Jocelyn was afraid to lift her head. If they came for her, she didn’t want to make it easy for them to find her. She didn’t want anyone else hurt, either. She heard a low hum on the mic in her ear. But it was the beating inside her ears that had her concerned. She could barely think over the incessant pounding.

  The temp
tation was to turn this over to Ben and let him figure a way out. He was the professional and she was a nurse who kept landing in trouble. But the idea of waiting and hiding no longer appealed to her. Those days were behind her. Ethan Reynolds could not hurt her anymore.

  And after the past few days, she no longer feared a little man with a big ego and even bigger fists. She’d outlasted and outrun men with guns who could crush Ethan. She used her wits and depended on the right people to help her through.

  She would make it through this, too. She had to believe that.

  One of the attackers crouched down and started looking through the wallets. He didn’t take money. He flipped them open and...checked IDs. The pieces fell into place. Ben guessed this wasn’t a robbery and he was right. It was a hunt—for her.

  She watched the attacker scan photos and faces. He dumped purses and shifted the contents around until he grabbed only the licenses.

  “They don’t know what you look like.” Ben whispered the words into her hair.

  It took all of her control to hold her body still and not jerk at the impact of those words. “Yes.”

  “How can that be?” he asked.

  Probably had something to do with her name-switching and lack of a background trail. She had a license stuffed into her front pants pocket. No purse and no wallet.

  She’d come in and out of here every week since she took the job down the street. Pamela had stopped looking at her license long ago. Jocelyn only took it with her as a precaution and she kept it tucked away now.

  “Anything?” The leader glanced at his watch when the other attacker shook his head. “Okay, I need all the women on the right side and men to the left. Be quick and don’t try anything.”

  One man got up and tripped and the gun swung right to him. “Please, no,” he pleaded.

  “Enough stalling. Everyone move.”

  Her knee banged against the hard floor as she tried to get her weight under her so she could stand up. She hated the idea. The thought of being separated from Ben started a shiver racing through her that the warm day and Ben’s hard body over her couldn’t slow.

  This manhunt was about her. She had no idea what they wanted or how they intended to get it out of her, but there was nowhere else to hide.

  She shifted to get up before the attacker got upset and took it out on Ben. She attempted to stand, but Ben pressed harder, flattening her against the ground again. No question he wanted her down.

  When she peeked at him over her shoulder, he shook his head.

  Do not move. He mouthed the words this time.

  “You’ve got two,” Joel said through the mic.

  She had no idea what that meant. She couldn’t ask, so she hoped Ben understood the clue.

  The lead attacker stuck his gun right in a woman’s face just a few feet away from Jocelyn. “I said, move.”

  People started shifting. A woman sobbed as the other attacker dragged her off the floor and threw her where he wanted her. “Let’s go.”

  The room exploded into movement. Most people crawled on the floor rather than stand up, but the game of musical chairs with people had begun. Men filed one way and women the other. Only she and Ben stayed still on the floor.

  If the plan was for him to cover her and take the bullets while Connor stormed in the front door, she voted for another plan. Suddenly her fears switched from what these men might do to her, to what they would do to Ben if he didn’t listen.

  She tried to think about how she could cause a diversion, at least give Ben a chance to launch an attack of some kind.

  “No.”

  That was it. One word whispered against the back of her head. She hadn’t said anything out loud and there was no way he could feel the anxiety churning and bubbling inside her. Yet he knew.

  “Hey, you two. Get up.” The lead attacker stood right in front of them now. No more than five feet away.

  She ducked her head and tried to peek up without the lead attacker getting a good look at her face. She saw his shoes, work boots of some kind. Saw him lift his weapon.

  “You have two seconds before I start shooting.”

  “We’re going.” Ben’s voice sounded thin and wobbly, as if he were terrified and too shaken with fear to get his legs to move.

  No way. She knew it was fake. All fake. Whatever the plan, he’d put it in motion. She heard a countdown in her ear and knew Joel was helping from the outside.

  Most of Ben’s weight lifted off her. She tried to move but his legs kept her pinned. They were targets right there in the center of the floor. The room had split and no else sat with them. A man off to the side begged Ben to move.

  He took his time. He reached behind him and got to his knees, all while the lead attacker watched.

  When the seconds ticked on, the other attacker stepped closer. “What’s happening over here?”

  The room spun. Something slammed into her back, knocking the air out of her and pushing her tight against the floor. She covered her head as the chaos exploded around her. She heard screaming and saw a blur as Ben threw something with one hand and a single shot rang out above her.

  The noise cut off her hearing as it burned through her. She smelled smoke and saw people running. Time flew yet moved in slow motion. She saw every tiny movement even as she knew it unfolded in rapid time.

  “Ben!” She screamed his name but he was up and running.

  The front doors burst open and Connor and Joel raced in with the police sirens wailing in the street behind them. Ben jumped over the lead attacker’s still body. Then she saw the blood and the attacker’s open hand. His gun lay a few feet away but his body didn’t move.

  Blood covered Ben’s arm and stained his shirt. She tried to yell and rush for him, but strong hands held her back. She threw her elbows and kicked her feet but nothing happened. The hold didn’t ease.

  Joel’s voice finally penetrated the frantic screaming in her head. This time in person, not through the mic. “Stay still. He’s okay.”

  “Blood.”

  “Not his.”

  Then she went down again. Joel pressed her against him, shielding her with his body as people filed around the room and ran for the doors in a wild frenzy.

  Flat against the floor, she could see Ben and Connor reach the lone attacker leaning against the table in the middle of the bank. Something stuck out of his shoulder and his gun dangled from his hand.

  Connor took that guy’s mask off, and his face was a mask of pain as his head fell back. She wondered why he didn’t slide to the floor.

  Sounds were muffled and she didn’t understand what she was seeing. A blur moved into her peripheral vision. She looked up in time to see one of the attackers come out of the door upstairs. He held a gun.

  She didn’t know where he aimed, so she screamed the warning. “Ben, move!”

  He dropped to the floor in what looked like a slide into home plate. Her heart stopped when his momentum had him skidding into the knifed man. Shots echoed around the room and pinged off the stone walls. Ben slammed into the attacker’s legs and the guy went down as shots slammed into his chest.

  Through the fog and the ringing pain in her ears, she heard a yell followed by a sickening thud. No one stood on the balcony above. A deadly silence fell over the room.

  Her panicked gaze flew from one corner to the other. First to Ben where he sat on his butt still holding his gun. She followed his stare to the pile of black folded on the hard floor not that far from where she sat. Then she swung back to Ed. He stood near the front door with his gun still aimed at the balcony.

  The doors slammed open again and police officers poured in, fanning out and covering the entire floor. The direction they pointed their guns shifted between all the men still standing. The innocent ones.

  “Get down!” Dif
ferent voices all said the same thing.

  The command rang all around her and the room headed into a spinning nosedive. She refused to pass out, but when Detective Willoughby stepped into the middle of the fray, she did lower her forehead to the floor and let the cool stone ease the hammering inside.

  He looked around at the blood and the bodies. “Arrest everybody.”

  * * *

  IT TOOK CONNOR all of ten minutes to talk the detective down. No wonder Connor was the leader. He could stay calm and reasonable and get people moving his way before they knew they were agreeing with him.

  Ben would have yelled his way through the situation. With his patience expired, he’d reached the end of being social and professional. The detective had proved to be nothing but trouble. He was no help and more of an actual hindrance. Always a step behind and full of accusations. Ben was done with all of it.

  Every part of his body ached and the realization of how close he’d come to seeing Jocelyn captured or killed had adrenaline rushing to his brain. With the police moving in and out and investigators roping off the area, Ben didn’t move. He leaned against the middle table with the deposit slips now strewn all over it and on the floor.

  When he finally shifted, his foot slid on the paper and his gaze shot across the room to see who’d witnessed his near fall. Jocelyn stood there. He could watch her all day.

  She nodded and talked to Joel. They were holding hands. No, that wasn’t right. Ben forced his vision to clear—Joel was checking her arm. Squeezing and asking questions, then waiting for an answer. Ben had been through that routine a few times himself.

  The images of the past half hour clicked together in his head. He’d pinned her under him against the floor, ignoring his weight advantage. He recalled the way he’d shoved her down to keep her out of the line of fire. Rough, but necessary. He hoped she understood, but that didn’t stop the guilt from the thought of her being hurt without him even noticing.