One of the women lying behind him jumped up and made a run for it, right toward the exit. The gunman turned and fired off a shot, catching her in the leg. She fell onto the floor with a high-pitched scream.
I watched in morbid fascination as a puddle of dark red formed around her.
People in the bank were sobbing openly now. Some of them were pleading for their lives.
I heard someone outside yell, “Shots fired!”
My eyes traveled around the room, seeking out the man whose name I couldn’t remember. Our eyes locked for one long second. It was like we were the only two people in the room. He wasn’t crying or begging for his life. He wasn’t sweating or looking for a way to save his ass.
He was standing there, in the center of the room, calm and strong, like this situation wasn’t that big of a deal. He made me feel better, more in control.
Another duffle flew out of the vault and one of the men stepped out. There had to be millions of dollars in those bags. Not only would it ruin this bank, the people who did business here, but my father as well.
My newfound strength made me brave.
I stepped in front of one of the bags, giving a level look to the men who intended to take it. “If you leave now, you might get away.”
The man standing directly in front of me smirked and the smirk turned into a full-blown smile. I realized my mistake then.
I tried to entice them with freedom, with the thought of getting away unscathed. These men didn’t care about that. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have realized that from the beginning. None of them were wearing ski masks or those plastic masks that looked like creepy clowns or animals. They weren’t even trying to hide their faces.
Men who didn’t hide their faces in a situation like this were either really desperate or really meticulous and had a fail-proof plan. They planned to be long gone before anyone could recognize their faces.
I wasn’t going to stop them.
No one was.
The man standing in front of me raised his gun, pointing it right at me.
And then he pulled the trigger.
1
Brody
I jerked awake and forced my body to lie still and listen to the sounds going on around me. A man could tell a lot just by listening. I liked knowing what I was dealing with that day before I even got out of bed.
The only sound I heard was the hum of the air-conditioner. I sat up, pushing the blankets down to my waist and leaning against the cheap wooden headboard. It was easy to forget I was alone. It was easy to forget I was no longer working a case, that I was no longer pretending to be someone else.
I’d spent so much time with other people (mostly criminals) and not being myself that I honestly wasn’t sure who I was anymore. It was the reason I was here in this little hotel room—because I didn’t have a place of my own. I hadn’t had a place of my own for two years now.
The prospect of starting all over again, of reinventing myself once more, was not an exciting one. It exhausted me just thinking about it. Maybe some guys could toss aside their undercover identities like yesterday’s trash, but I couldn’t.
I glanced at the clock beside the bed and did a double take. It was already after ten. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept so late.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had a day off either. But now here I was with two full weeks stretching in front of me. Empty days to fill and no alarm clock demanding I get my ass out of bed.
So what did a guy with essentially no life outside of work do when he found himself with time off? He went fishing. I tossed the covers off the bed, letting them fall partially onto the floor and not bothering to fix them. That’s what maid service was for.
Scratching myself, I went into the bathroom and took a quick shower, not bothering to shave. In the corner of the room was my bag of belongings. From inside, I pulled out a pair of worn jeans, a T-shirt, and a long-sleeved, plaid flannel that I left unbuttoned and untucked.
Before heading out the door with my bag, I slid a navy baseball cap onto my head, swiveling it around backward, and palmed the keys to my beat-up Ford pickup.
It was already hot outside; the Raleigh sun and humidity was relentless almost every time of the day. After dropping off my key to the room, I pulled out of the lot and didn’t look back. My fishing pole and gear was already in the back, along with the few other items I had to my name. The drive to the Emerald Isle was two and a half hours so I decided to run through a drive-thru to get some food.
After I ordered a couple breakfast sandwiches and a large coffee, I pulled through and paid, pulling out the last bit of cash I had. Guess a stop at the bank was in order as well.
Shaw Trust was located on a busy street in Raleigh, North Carolina. I had been banking with them for the last five years. I didn’t have many material goods to my name, but my bank account was better for it. Well, that and never being able to spend my own money.