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“You some kind of cop?” He stared down at her from his position standing on the island where she’d signed checks before. “’Cause I don’t like cops.”
The guy to her left snickered. The first sign of life she’d seen from him, and the guy on the island shushed him pretty quickly. The humor she could see in the mouth slit on his face mask dissipated as it did from his eyes. “One minute.”
All five of them had on the same type of clothes. She studied the one on the island, wondering what the minute counted down to.
Their clothes were well-made, high-end all-weather gear. Sweat-wicking, thermal layer to keep you warm—or cool depending on the weather. Clean, new-looking weapons. Brand-label all-black tactical boots she knew were lightweight because she bought them for Vanguard employees. Footwear was something you didn’t skimp on.
All five had toned physiques, though she only saw two as they passed initially. These three were built differently, so they weren’t genetic relations. Different heights and sizes, but the same toned muscle. Tightly packed but not bulky in a way that would make them heavy and lumbering when they needed to make a quick exit.
“So what’s the plan?” They had about thirty seconds by her count. “Because I can help you.”
“Not a cop, but what?” He hopped off the island and strode to her.
Clare lifted her hands, not just to ward off his attempt to intimidate her with his proximity. She showed him her pocket and tugged out—slowly—a business card. “Vanguard Investigations.”
“Like private eyes?”
“Among other things.” It clearly stated her name. He’d be able to find her later, which posed a risk to her personal safety. But she needed to solve this more than she needed to protect herself from harm.
“And you’re the CEO?” He looked her up and down. “Fancy.”
He didn’t want to be bested by a woman. He was young, probably midtwenties. She’d seen more life by then than he had. It wasn’t just war that prematurely aged a person. “I can help you negotiate your way out of this. After your friends have retrieved what you came here for, of course.”
His lips curled up in a smirk.
“No one needs to get hurt.”
A gunshot echoed from the vault, followed by gasps and screams.
Clare and the gunman stared at each other. Neither flinched.
“Let’s not drag this out,” he said.
“Agreed.” She wanted to avoid bloodshed. Or nomore, at least. She thought through what she knew of the back alley. The sewers. A tunnel maybe, but they hadn’t brought backpacks of explosives in with them. In fact, all they had were their weapons and whatever they’d tucked in the pockets of their high-tech tactical pants. They could go up to the roof, then jump to the neighboring building. Or base jump.
Some other plan to get around the cops.
“Got it.” The man called out from the vault, behind the cashier’s counter. “Let’s go.”
All three men raced to their friends. They met in the rear of the lobby and raced to a door in the back hall. A formation. Practiced escape, almost choreographed.
Clare reached the open end of the counter when the guy she’d faced off with turned and fired twice in her direction.
She ducked down behind the counter. Glass shattered, and someone screamed.
Wherever they went, she’d be right behind them. However they got away, she would be there to see it. Without a gun she couldn’t take them out—or take them down. But if she tracked them down and handed them over to the police, it would secure her company’s standing in the law enforcement community in Benson.
Clare ran after the thieves, to the back hall.
Up the stairs.
SEVEN
The young man stared him down. “I’m just saying, Clare Juarez is inside that bank.”
McCauley snorted. “So we should all go home?”
Gage’s stomach hurt he’d been clenching it so hard. Clare wasn’t the girl he’d known in high school. It couldn’t be her. He wasn’t going to let his mind go there right now. “Plenty of people in that bank, and intel said five assailants.” He shifted the grip he had on his weapon, clipped to the front of his vest.
