by Codi Gary
She definitely didn’t want to be shot.
As he drew closer, she got a better look at him; deep hollows in his cheeks gave him an almost skeletal appearance, as did his pale blue eyes sunk back in his skull.
“I . . . I . . . ” God, she couldn’t even get a sentence out, she was so terrified.
“Come on, we’re going to go inside, and I want you to lock the front door. If you scream or try to signal anyone for help, I will shoot you and everyone inside. All right?”
She nodded and climbed up the steps into the diner. She didn’t look back over her shoulder or acknowledge Kenny as she passed by the kitchen. Hannah just stared straight ahead, quickening her steps toward the door.
Just as she reached the glass, Blake stood up and tossed down several bills onto the table. Sweat trickled down her forehead and neck, and she held the door, hoping he’d hurry. The last thing she wanted was to have him caught in here. Somehow she doubted he’d sit back and follow the gunman’s orders quietly.
“Have a nice day, Blake,” she said, glancing back to see if the man had moved up front yet.
Blake shot her a look as he approached, placing his wallet into the pocket of his running pants.
“You okay, Hannah? You’re really pale.”
“I told you to lock that door!”
Hannah’s stomach dropped as she recognized the hooded man’s high nasally voice, and she shut the door, locking it with a click.
Blake’s gaze met hers, but despite the slight widening of his eyes, he remained passive, calm. Why wouldn’t he be? He’d probably faced off against men with guns for years, while besides her dad’s, she’d never even seen anyone holding a gun, let alone pointing it at her.
“I’m sorry.” She turned away from Blake to face the man’s wrath, but he was addressing the rest of the diner, his gun pressed against the side of Kenny’s head. He was visibly shaking, and Hannah was afraid he might pull the trigger, he trembled so badly. Was he just pumped up with adrenaline or on something?
“Everyone set your cell phones and wallets on the counter in front of me. If anyone gets any ideas about being a hero, I will blow this man’s brains out.”
Hannah cried out, but a firm hand on her arm stalled her from moving forward. She looked up to find Blake had moved in next to her, watching the gunman with narrow-eyed determination.
“Come on; get a move on. I don’t have all day,” the gunman snapped.
The five customers, including Blake, did as he asked. The only one missing was Chloe, and hope flashed through Hannah as she imagined Chloe calling the cops from inside their tiny bathroom.
“Your cell phone and whatever tips you got hidden in that apron.”
Hannah realized the gunman was talking to her, and she set the black phone next to the others.
“I said give me your tips.”
“They’re in the jars next to the register,” she said. “There should be three of them, with our names taped to the outside.”
While he grabbed a plastic to-go bag from under the counter and started shoveling the phones, wallets, and purses into it, Hannah glanced toward Blake. His jaw was clenched, his gaze glued on the hooded man.
In any of the books or romantic movies she loved, this would be the moment that the heroine would turn to the hero and say something clever like, “If we make it out of this, we’re going on a date. You’re buying.”
But this was real life, and there was a good chance once this man got what he wanted, he was going to just open fire and take them all out.
Once the cash register and the tip jars had been collected, the man shoved Kenny to the ground roughly. “You stay down there. And you”—he pointed his gun at her again—“get over here. You’re going to see I get out of here safely.”
Hannah took a step toward him, her feet heavy, as if she was sporting cement blocks for shoes.
She gasped when Blake stepped in front of her.
“You don’t need her. You got what you wanted, so why don’t you take it and go?” Blake said.
As the black gun swung toward Blake, Hannah’s world tilted. She couldn’t let Blake get shot because of her.
“Stop, please, I’m coming.” She pushed past Blake and moved until she was right in the line of fire, walking slowly toward him. “You don’t have to shoot anyone.”
“Hannah . . . ” Blake’s growl rumbled behind her, but she kept her attention on the gunman.
“I’m going with you. You don’t need to be scared. No one is going to hurt you.” She spoke as if she was talking to a wounded animal or one of her kindergarteners, slow and easy.
The man didn’t seem to be listening, still focused on Blake, waving the gun up and down unsteadily.
“I said no heroes. Believe me, she ain’t worth dying over.”
As soon as she was within arm’s distance, the man pointed the gun right into her back, and she led him down the hall.
Please, if you get me out of this, I will do anything. Just . . .
Blake’s smile . . . his eyes . . . and the last angry glare he’d sent the gunman’s way flashed through her mind.
Please, let me see Blake again.
A STONE SETTLED into the pit of Blake’s stomach as he helplessly watched Hannah disappear, the gun trained on the middle of her back. If the man’s finger pressed that trigger, the shot was too close not to be fatal.
Blake still couldn’t believe she’d stepped in front of him. He’d given her the perfect opportunity to escape and let him handle things, and she’d put herself right back in harm’s way.
The minute Hannah and the gunman were out of sight, Blake moved. Turning the lock on the door, he raced out the front and around the side of the building, his footsteps slowing even as his heartbeat picked up speed. He listened for the sound of approaching feet and knew that the gunman had to bring Hannah back down this way; the other side of the alley was a dead end into a brick wall.
Blake tried to remain calm, but he’d seen the pale white of Hannah’s cheeks, the usual rosy hue leached away by terror, and he imagined Jenny in her place. Had Jenny tried to intervene when the gunman had entered the Base Exchange, or had she been quiet? Following his instructions and just hoping she made it out alive?
He heard footsteps approaching and knew that even if it meant he didn’t make it, Hannah was going to walk away unscathed.
Hannah stepped out first, and before she even noticed him, he pulled her toward him. He pushed her past him, out of the gunman’s sight.
“What the fu—”
Blake didn’t wait for the gunman to figure out what had happened. As quick as the Flash, he grabbed the gun and with a swift twist of the man’s wrist found himself in possession of the firearm, pointing it directly at the other man’s chest.
“Toss the bag this way and get on the ground with your hands behind your back.” Blake kept sight of Hannah out of the corner his eye, the sick feeling in his stomach easing the farther away she got from danger.
The man’s hands flew up, sweat trickling down his temples. “I wasn’t going to hurt her, I swear—”
“On the ground or I will hurt you,” Blake snapped.
The sound of sirens drew closer as the man did what Blake said. Blake kept his attention solely on him, even as he spoke to Hannah.
“Are you all right?” he asked gruffly.
“Y . . . Yes. I’m fine.”
He nodded curtly, the last of the worry for her draining out of him. “Take the bag inside, and let everyone know it’s okay. I’ll stay with him.”
Hannah picked up the bag from where he’d thrown it, and Blake sensed her hesitation, then felt her hand briefly touch his arm.
“Thank you.”
This time, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at her, taking in her wide eyes, her brown hair around her shoulder in loose, thick waves. Her lips . . .
Snapping his gaze away from her, he practically growled, “Go inside.”
He couldn’t let his emotions distract
him, although they had played a large part in his response to the robbery. He hadn’t been able to leave Hannah at the hands of the gunman, not after she’d put herself in the midst of the danger.
To protect me. She did it so that the gunman would take his sights off me.
Two cruisers pulled up, and when the officers got out, their weapons drawn, Blake held his hands up.
“Drop your weapon!” a tall officer with a shiny bald head shouted.
“Yes, sir!” Blake slowly tossed the gun away from him and the man on the ground and called out, “My name is Sergeant Blake Kline with the United States Army. This man attempted to rob Dale’s Diner and take a hostage before I disarmed him.”
“That is quite a story, Kline. Don’t shoot him, guys; he’s probably telling the truth.” Officer Zack Dalton came out from behind the open squad car door with a wide grin on his face, holstering his weapon while his shiny-headed partner kept his gun on Blake. Dalton had been hired at Alpha Dog Training Program several months ago to assist with training the police dogs, and everyone at Alpha Dog respected the young officer with the wicked sense of humor.
Blake kept his hands up in case the other officers didn’t take Dalton at his word. “There are witnesses inside, including the girl this man held at gunpoint. Her name is Hannah, and the rest of the customers will vouch for me.”
Dalton walked past him and knelt next to the hooded man, securing handcuffs on his wrists behind his back. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you . . . ”
“Can you please put your hands behind your back, sir?” Blake hadn’t even heard the officer come up but did as he requested. “I am going to secure you with handcuffs as a precaution until we get a witness to corroborate your story.”
Blake complied, letting the officer secure the steel cuffs on his wrists.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
Blake and the officer turned at the sound of Hannah’s outraged cry. She was racing down the steps with an angry scowl on her face.
“Ma’am, you need to go back inside—”
Hannah ignored the officer and stopped a few feet away, her hands on her hips. “And you need to let him go right now!”
A surprise laugh escaped Blake even as the officer behind him stiffened and Blake thought he heard something unsnap. Was he actually going to pull his gun on Hannah?
“Ma’am, you are interfering with a police investigation, and if you don’t step back inside, I will be slapping a set of cuffs on you, too.”
Dalton stepped up then. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Officer Blount.” He smiled at Hannah, and Blake tensed when he thought the other man’s eyes did a quick once-over. He must have liked what he saw, because he took off his hat and stepped closer to Hannah. “Ma’am, I appreciate your concern for Sergeant Kline, but rest assured, he’s a friend of mine, and we’ll get this sorted out quick.”
Hannah’s hands fell from her hips, and her voice turned pleading. “I’m sorry for being disrespectful, but this man is a hero. He saved my life, and it just doesn’t . . . doesn’t seem right . . . ”
Hannah’s lips trembled, and fat tears threatened to spill over her lower lids. Blake found himself taking a step toward her, his first instinct to comfort her, only to be jerked back by Officer Blount, who cleared his throat. Even without seeing his face, Blake could tell he was uncomfortable.
“Ma’am, please, just go back inside, all right? Someone will be in to take your statement, and until then, the sergeant is just going to cool his heels in the back of one of our squad cars. Once we do that, you can rain all the gratitude you want on him.”
The snide way the officer said it made Blake want to swing his head back and break his nose, but then Dalton might really arrest him.
Dalton shot his partner a dark glower, which Blake appreciated, and turned his attention back to Hannah. “Why don’t I escort you back in? I’ll go ahead and take your statement now, Miss . . . ”
“York. Hannah York.” Hannah backed away reluctantly, casting one more look his way before going back inside. He saw Dalton’s hand rest on the small of her back, a gentlemanly move, but Blake didn’t like it.
Blake’s jaw turned to granite, and he gritted his teeth painfully as Officer Blount opened the back door of the police cruiser and helped him in. “You just sit tight, hero.”
He closed the door, and Blake cursed. He hadn’t done anything that any man with his training wouldn’t have. It didn’t make him a hero.
He glanced toward Dale’s and saw Hannah standing by the window, watching him earnestly. Between all the terror and fighting to save her life, he hadn’t had a chance to dwell on his reaction to her earlier and the knowledge that he had drunk dialed her and probably said a host of things he shouldn’t have. It didn’t take a genius to realize he was attracted to Hannah, but she was more than just a pretty woman. She brightened his day, was the one thing he looked forward to.
But he couldn’t make a move on her. Not with how completely fucked up he was. He’d had a few beers, and after one conversation with her he couldn’t even remember, his subconscious had triggered a violent, gut-churning nightmare. If that wasn’t the universe telling him he needed more time to work out his shit, he didn’t know what was.
Now, he just needed to find a way to ease away from Hannah without hurting her.
Chapter Five
HANNAH SAT WITH Officer Dalton, recounting everything that had happened after the gunman had approached her outside. She was right next to the window and kept glancing outside, concerned about Blake.
She was still in awe of him. She’d never seen anyone move that fast, and the sheer strength with which he’d twisted and laid out the other man was beautiful. He was like a lion taking down a gazelle. He was a hero, and they were treating him like a criminal; even the officer who knew him was allowing it.
“Officer Dalton, when are you going to take the cuffs off Blake?” she asked.
The young officer’s dark eyes twinkled. He was really good-looking, resembling Will Smith a bit, especially with the little mustache. She hadn’t been oblivious to his friendly overtures, but she wasn’t interested in anyone but Blake.
“You don’t have to worry about Sergeant Kline. I’ll tell Officer Blount to release him just as soon as I get an awkward pic of him to show the rest of the guys at Alpha Dog.”
Hannah shook her head. “He saved my life. He should be getting medals and awards, not sitting in the back of a police car with his hands behind his back. I can’t imagine that’s comfortable—”
He interrupted her with his hands in the air, as if he was surrendering to her. “All right, Miss York, I’ll go give the word that Kline is in the clear. You just sit tight.”
He got up from the table and went outside, walking down to the cop car where Blake was sitting. He really did pull out his phone and take a picture, but then he took the cuffs off him. Hannah had no idea what the two men were saying, but when Blake glanced up toward the window, she smiled and gave a little wave.
He looked away without acknowledging her.
Hannah’s stomach sunk like a rock. Did he blame her? Think that all this was somehow her fault?
Blake spoke to the officers a moment or two longer and then got into his car and drove away.
“Hannah?”
Kenny’s voice made her jump, and she realized her eyes were blurry with tears. Wiping at them shakily, she sniffled, “Hey, Kenny, sorry, I was—”
“No need to apologize, sweetie, I was just going to see if you needed a ride home. Dale’s on his way, and I thought you might be shaken up.”
Hannah hadn’t been surprised by the round of hugs or that their boss was rushing in to check on them. The employees at Dale’s were more of a family unit than just coworkers.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay. I have an interview this afternoon that I can’t miss, so I think I’ll just go home and unwind for a while.”
“All right,
darlin’, but you call if you need anything, you hear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Hannah walked out of the diner, not nearly as calm as she’d pretended. The truth was, her heart was pumping so hard it actually felt like it may burst. Just as she reached her car, a news van pulled up behind her and a woman jumped out.
“Miss, miss. We received a tip that a gunman was disarmed and restrained by an active military man before the police arrived. Is this true?”
Hannah’s mouth opened and closed for a moment as a young man in a loose beanie and a scraggly beard shoved a camera in her face.
Well, if Blake didn’t want to stick around to hear how grateful she was in person, then at least she could tell him now.
“Yes . . . Yes, his name is Sergeant Blake Kline, and he saved my life.”
BLAKE CUT OUT of there as soon as the cuffs were off, hauling ass back to his place to change into his uniform. He couldn’t wait for Hannah to come out of the diner; he was already late for work, and besides, he didn’t think he could look her in the eye, not with the thoughts that had been racing through his mind about her.
If he was being honest with himself, he’d been tempted to break the gunman’s arm after seeing the guy manhandle and threaten Hannah. It was a knee-jerk, violent reaction and one he hadn’t been prepared for.
It had scared the hell out of him.
He’d thought all he’d felt for Hannah was friendship, a mild affection even. Now, he knew it was more than that.
He was attracted to her. Even cared about her as more than just a friend.
And the guilt twisting up his insides was more than he could stand.
It had only been two years since Jenny’s death. How could he want to be with anyone else? Jenny was his soul mate, his high school sweetheart, his best friend.
Two years of mourning was pitiful, and he hated himself for it. Looking for someone to just pass the time with, a little physical comfort, that was one thing. But getting emotionally involved with Hannah when he was still so fucked up would make him feel worse, not better. And it wouldn’t be fair to her.
He pulled into the parking lot of Alpha Dog and saw Best getting out of his SUV. He tapped his horn once as he parked and caught up with his friend.
