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I patted the gun that was concealed under my arm. “I’ve gotten used to flying private.”
Both men laughed.
“You got a locked case for that firearm, ma’am?” asked Rock.
“Um, not with me.”
“Not a problem.”
“Is being an LEO why you can serve the warrant too?”
“Yep.”
“And here I thought you were going to pull some sneaky spy thing instead.”
The cab ride from the airfield to the bank took twice as long as I expected it to with all of the rain.
Getting ready to take off? I texted Buck.
Negative. Delayed. Lightning within three miles. At the bank?
Just pulling up. I love you, Buck.
Update me when you’re in the vault.
And?
I love you, Stella.
“The flight is delayed due to lightning,” I said.
Rock looked over at me from the front seat. “If it continues, we may make it back to the airport in time to fly private.”
I wouldn’t say so now, but something told me that wouldn’t be happening. That feeling only intensified when the man I was instructed to see kept me waiting for almost fifteen minutes.
Still waiting for the fucking bank guy, I texted Buck.
Have Ink go breathe down someone’s neck, he replied.
Taking off soon?
No word. I love you, Stella.
I think the asshole is on his way now.
And?
I love you, Buck.
After the fuss the bank manager—I learned when he introduced himself—had made on the phone, getting me into the vault was nothing more than a formality involving him looking at my copy of the death certificate, the will, and the warrant. The latter of which appeared unnecessary once I showed him my identification and reviewed the first two documents.
“Cutting it kind of close, aren’t you?” I said, pointed at the time on my phone; it was almost five.
“This branch doesn’t close until six.”
I couldn’t help but resent him for the time we’d wasted. Both Buck and I could be on our way back to Colorado by now if he hadn’t pulled a fucking power trip.
“Gentlemen, you’ll need to wait out here,” he said when Rock and Ink tried to follow me into the vault.
