by Jove Belle
“Listen carefully. I want a helicopter on the roof in one hour. The pilot needs to drop it and go. If he’s still there when we get there, I will shoot him in the head. We’ll bring six hostages with us. If you attempt to follow us in any way, I’ll shoot them, one by one, and drop them out into the open sky. For now, I want you to recall the SWAT team you have working the perimeter. If I see even a hint that they’ve entered the building, I’ll detonate the explosives. Everyone will die. Do you understand?”
As Marcus spoke, Sera edged her way back to the group of hostages. On the one hand, she was tactically more effective if she stayed with Marcus’s group. The hostages, however, seemed calmer when she was among them. Their safety was her priority. Even without Marcus’s directive for SWAT to withdraw, Sera knew they’d started to retreat when she’d confirmed the explosives. No one was coming to rescue them. Keeping them alive fell to her alone. She’d acted impulsively when Marcus showed her the detonator, and that had resulted in the shooting of two hostages. She was less likely to repeat that event if she wasn’t near him.
She dropped to her knees next to Tor. Exhausted and unsure what to do next, she gave herself the slightest moment to rest her head against the arm of a nearby office chair. She closed her eyes and, for the first time in years, considered prayer.
Marcus ended the call and then looked over the group of hostages, studying them, searching for something. Sera reflexively shifted to the right until her body blocked him from seeing Tor. It wasn’t like he could kill with his eyes, but something deep inside Sera didn’t want him to have access to Tor in anyway. Any attention from Marcus was a threat.
“As I was saying, one of them has the detonator. Or knows where it is.”
Reg and another man moved toward the group. Reg said, “We’ll search them.”
Marcus shook his head and Sera’s stomach dropped.
“That will take too long.” He moved quickly to one of the hostages huddled on the perimeter of the group. He pressed his shotgun to her temple and said, “I’m sure whoever has it would like to return it now.”
He stared directly at Sera as he spoke. The woman shook, and great, fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and whispered, “Our Father who art in heaven…”
Sera didn’t know the rest of the prayer, couldn’t hear the woman’s desperate whispers, but recognized the agony in her expression.
“One.”
No one moved.
“Two.”
Marcus stared at Sera, daring her to do something.
“Three.”
Before the word made it out, he pulled the trigger. The shotgun blast echoed off the stone walls and rang in Sera’s ears. She tried not to look, but her eyes were drawn to the space atop the woman’s shoulders where her head used to be. In its place was a shredded, bloody mess of bone and strips of flesh.
“Let’s try again.”
Without looking away from her, Marcus crossed the room and grabbed Tor by the hair and dragged her to her knees in front of him. As he chambered another round, Sera lashed out. She didn’t have the detonator, couldn’t bargain with it for Tor’s life, and couldn’t trust that whoever did would produce it. The only thing she could do was make herself a better target for Marcus’s anger.
She lurched to her feet, grabbing the chair by the legs and swinging it around to catch Marcus in the head. It knocked him back, his head whipping to the side with a crunch that she hoped had killed him. He didn’t drop the shotgun. She went for a follow-up strike, hefting the chair and cursing the weight of it in her hands, the way the fiery pain in her chest and side kept her from using too much force. As she lifted it above her head, she was struck in the side. Pain exploded in her chest, and she toppled to the ground with the vague understanding that Reg had tackled her.
She heard herself groan and could do nothing to stop the sound. Her body, it seemed, had stopped taking orders from her brain. Or maybe her brain had stopped giving them.
Cold steel, too small to be a shotgun, pressed against her temple. Marcus’s handgun, perhaps. She had one, too, for all the good it did her with the clip empty and the chamber cleared. What she wouldn’t give for just one of those bullets back. That’s all she’d need. Then Marcus would be a footnote in history, the focus of one report but nothing more. She reached for her ankle, stretching and contorting her body in a way that made the pain in her ribs bloom brighter. The holster there was empty. She’d forgotten they’d taken her twenty-two, also.
Marcus laughed. “I should have just killed you earlier.”
His ego had kept her alive. He’d allowed his desire for her to witness his opus to override the common sense that said she was too much of a threat to be brought along. Had he overestimated himself? Or underestimated her? Did it even matter?
“It’s time to fix that,” Marcus said.
“No. Please, no.” Tor cried the words over and over, a refrain of three syllables with the occasional plea to God added. It wouldn’t change Marcus’s mind, but Sera hurt too much to tell her that. And the words sounded so nice in her ears. Not the pain, she’d never wanted that for Tor, but the confirmation that she still loved Sera in some way. Sera closed her eyes. The tile floor was hard and cool against her cheek. It soothed her.
Then the press of steel against her temple was gone and she blinked her eyes open. A moment later, Tor was pulled into her line of sight, with Marcus holding her head by her hair. He smiled at Sera as he pointed the gun at Tor’s head. He didn’t count, simply curled his finger around the trigger.
Sera wanted to look away, to tear herself away from Tor’s pleading, desperate gaze, but she was trapped. Unable to do anything, even open her mouth in protest, Sera watched, horrified and helpless.
Then a voice she didn’t recognize called out. “No, don’t! Here. I have it here.”
“Edmund?” Tor’s face twisted with relief and confusion. Whoever Edmund was, Tor didn’t want him to have the detonator any more than she wanted that gun pointed at her own head. Tears streaked down Tor’s cheeks, her eyes puffy and red. Sera had forgotten what Tor looked like when she cried, the memory faded with time. Marcus released Tor and she slumped to the floor, her eyes focused on a point behind Sera. She crawled her way closer to Tor.
A gunshot. A scream. The fabric sliding, deafening thunk of a body slumping to the ground. Then silence.
She heard some low murmurs but couldn’t make out the words. Then strong hands looped beneath her arms and dragged her across the floor to another room. The shuffle of footsteps followed her. One by one, the hostages’ hands were bound together. Craig knelt in front of her. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it without making a sound. He shook his head and stared at her for a moment, then silently secured a zip tie around her hands.
“Why are you doing this?” She knew he couldn’t really answer, not with the other men bringing the other hostages into the room.
He lowered his gaze. “What else could I do?”
Craig lingered, fussing with her zip tie and watching the other men. When he was the only one left in the room he whispered into her ear. “You have to get these people out of here.”
The words were so soft, so quiet, so quick, that she could have hallucinated them, but she felt the impression of his fingers where he squeezed her arm, felt the warmth of his breath on her ear. She nodded. She had no idea how, but she would do it.
Craig gave her one last look, then backed out of the room. He hit the light switch and engaged the door lock. He shook his head with a look of regret as he pulled the door closed, blocking out the light and leaving them in the dark.
*
With her arms secured behind her, it took longer than normal for Tor to get her feet under her. The years of yoga helped. She had a strong core and flexible limbs, but the forced position threw her center of gravity off. She stood still for a moment, trying to get her bearings. Everything had happened in a blur. One minute they were on the bank floor. The next, Edmund was dead and th
ey were locked in a supply room. The shelves around them were filled with office supplies: pens, paper, that gooey stuff that made it possible to count money without licking her fingers every other second. And scissors.
Without light, however, she’d never find them. If she turned on the overhead light, that would alert the gunmen. Gunmen? Was that even the right thing to call them at this point? Bank robbers, hostage-takers, terrorists? None of the terms seemed to fit, but she liked those options better than calling them Sera’s colleagues.
Even that was a cloudy distinction that Tor couldn’t quite figure out. Sera was clearly at odds with the other men now, but that didn’t change that she’d obviously worked with them in the past. And they were very bad men. The one guy, Marcus, had almost killed her. Then he’d killed Edmund instead. Her nostrils filled with the overwhelming copper tinge, and she didn’t know if it was really there or just a memory. She’d been steeped in too much blood so far today.
She took a shuffling step toward the wall. Despite the risk, she needed light. Her foot kicked another body and Sera moaned.
“Sera?” she asked in a hushed whisper. Turning on the light was risky enough. She didn’t need to risk being overheard, too.
“Hey.”
Tor knelt down to be closer to Sera. “Are you okay?”
Another grunt and some shuffling. “Broken rib, I think.” Sera’s voice was a lot closer this time. “Where are we?”
“Storage room.”
“How are you holding up?” Sera asked. Tor wished she could see her face to help her decipher what Sera was feeling, because her tone gave nothing away.
Tor shrugged even though Sera couldn’t see her movement. She didn’t want to think about the question long enough to come up with a real answer. “I’m okay, I guess.”
“I’m sorry about all of this.”
Tor didn’t need to see Sera that time. She’d heard that same regret the day Sera told her she couldn’t stay. It didn’t hurt any less this time around. She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Instead, she asked, “So what do we do now?”
“I need to find a way out. Any ideas?” Sera’s voice switched back to business.
“There are scissors on the shelves, but I won’t be able to find them in the dark.”
She heard Sera shift again, then grunt with pain. “I need help to stand with my hands tied like this.”
Tor was already standing. There was no point in hurting Sera more than she already was. “Just stay here, I’ll get it.”
“Someone might see the light.”
Tor had already thought of that but couldn’t see another way to get what they needed. “What choice do we have?”
Sera paused before she responded. “You’re right. We’ll have to be quick.”
Tor focused on the crack of light coming from beneath the door and took small, careful sliding steps toward it. She didn’t want to kick anyone else on her way. She paused when she reached the door, listening for sounds of activity. After a moment, she realized it didn’t matter either way because their only way out of the situation started with the light switch. She took a deep breath and nudged the switch into the On position with her elbow.
The people in the room blinked when the lights came on. She looked for familiar faces. Minnie had made it out, and Edmund was…gone. She spotted Astrid and offered her a weak smile. Bart, the security supervisor, sat a few feet away. The collar of his uniform was crusted with blood, but he looked more angry than defeated. Even with his empty holster, he clearly wanted to fight back. Tor gave him a brief nod. The rest of the hostages included a mix of customers and employees. They huddled together with their heads down. No one cried, but they all wore blank, empty stares.
Tor returned to Sera. Unlike Tor and the rest of the hostages, Sera’s hands were secured in front of her. The rest of them had their hands zip-tied together behind their backs. It was odd, but she couldn’t dwell on it. They needed to get out of there and that couldn’t happen with their hands tied, front or back.
“Hey, you.” Sera’s smile looked more like a grimace. She shifted her position and that seemed to help.
Tor stared at the bruises on Sera’s face. She never should have tackled that man. On the upside, he had several noticeable bruises on him as well, but not nearly enough to balance out the pain he’d already caused that morning.
“You look like shit.”
Sera laughed, dry and low, then coughed. “Thanks.”
“Someday you’re going to have to tell me what all of this is about.” Tor hated everything about this day, but staring into Sera’s eyes, she felt better. She almost believed they had a chance to survive, and that was enough to give her hope.
Sera shrugged and moved again, trying to shift her body around into a kneeling position. She stopped twice to steady her breathing, but she finally made it.
“What are you doing?”
“I need to get up.”
“No, just stay there.” Tor pushed against Sera’s shoulder, trying to coax her back to a sitting position.
“I’ve almost got it. Just…help me.”
Tor evaluated Sera. As beat up as Sera was, Tor couldn’t do a lot with her hands behind her back. “How?”
Sera raised her hands. “Just give me something to hold on to.”
Tor felt her face flush at the innocent statement. Sera hadn’t meant anything, but Tor was flooded with memories of all the times Sera had given her plenty to hold on to. Sera glanced up at her, and the confusion on her face morphed into amusement. She raised her eyebrows and smiled in that incurably sexy, flirty way that made Tor’s flush run deeper.
“Stop it.”
“I forgot how easy you are.” Sera laughed, then grimaced and clutched her hand to her side.
“Don’t laugh.”
Sera drew in a deep, steadying breath, but the smile never wavered. Tor shook her head. Sera hadn’t changed at all.
“Sorry?” Sera said the word of apology like a question, and Tor considered walking away and leaving her there. Too bad Sera was the only one who had even the slightest clue what to do in this situation.
“Are you done?”
Sera nodded, her expression becoming serious. “Let’s do this.”
Tor turned and held out her hands. She braced herself and let Sera use her as a stabilizer as she lurched to her feet. Sera stumbled forward a couple of steps and almost knocked Tor down in the process, but she managed to right both of them at the last minute. Sera’s eyes brimmed with tears, and she took a deep, sucking breath.
Tor gave her a moment to collect herself, then asked, “Now what?”
“Now we find your scissors. And whatever else looks useful.”
Chapter Eleven
The security guard climbed to his feet and joined the hunt for scissors. Sera followed Tor as she searched the shelves. She had no doubt that Tor would find them first, but she wasn’t just looking at office supplies. She was scanning for potential weapons. Not that she expected to find a rocket launcher hidden among the paperclips, but there had to be something she could use to level the playing field. So far, the bay of ream after ream of white printer paper was the most substantial offering, but it was of no use to her. The threat of paper cuts by the thousand paled next to being aerated by a sub-machine gun.
“Here!” Tor gave a little hop and gestured toward the scissors. She spoke well above the safe whisper they’d been using.
“Shh.” Sera couldn’t stop her mouth from curving into a smile. “They’ll hear you.”
“Right. Sorry.” Tor didn’t look sorry. She looked hopeful, as if she were a completely different person from the one who had witnessed her friend being shot just a few moments ago. If she could have, Sera would have taken the time to comfort Tor and ask how she was holding up. But she knew that the answer, and the emotions that went with it, would take more than a few minutes to sort out.
She stared at Tor long enough for her smile to turn serious. Tor looked at her with such raw lo
nging Sera felt as though they were caught inside one of those vacuum-sealed bags, pulled close and unable to breathe. And then Tor shook her head and blinked, and that was that. When she looked at Sera again, it was as though the emotions had never surfaced.
The guard cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot. As much as she hated the interruption, Sera also appreciated it. She wanted so much more than a few fleeting minutes with Tor. She wanted to be with her in a time and place where a madman holding a detonator wasn’t her primary concern. If that moment had any chance of occurring, they needed to get moving. She grabbed a pair of scissors and said, “Turn around.”
She freed the guard first, then Tor. She turned over the scissors to Tor and held out her hands.
When they were finished, the guard took the scissors. “I’ll start on the others.”
“Thanks.” Sera nodded. She felt bad about the red, swollen contusion on the side of his face where Marcus had struck him. Hopefully, she’d have an opportunity to explain herself later. The guard gave her a serious look, then returned to the other hostages.
Sera took Tor’s hands in hers and rubbed the angry red lines left behind by the zip ties. She pressed her thumbs into the grooves lightly, covering the line completely. Without a word, she kissed first one side, then the other.
When Sera had joined the FBI, her life had been one big swirling mess. She and Tor had split, and everything had just fallen apart after that. First her parents had announced their divorce and acted like everything should be fine, like they hadn’t just dropped the floor from beneath her already crumbling world. Then Remmy had been killed in a bombing, of all things, and that was it for Sera. She had to do something to make a difference. The loss of her best friend had been the catalyst that had prompted her to sign up. She wanted to stop bad people from doing bad things, and here she was, about to become another faceless victim of a pointless plot. No matter how many bombs went off, the machinery of big business and big government kept grinding along. Nothing changed that, and adding more blood to the flow only seemed to lubricate the gears, not slow them as men like Marcus claimed to want.
