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Another snort from the teenage busser, and this time, both Sam and the shooter turned to look at him.
“Um…” the busser said, trying not to look at the gun she now had pointed at his head. “Hate to burst your bubble here, but…” His voice trailed off as he nodded in Sam’s direction.
“What?” The shooter haphazardly swung the gun back in Sam’s direction. This time, it was close enough for Sam to see that the safety was off. “He’s a cop?”
Sam was about to answer when several local voices behind them did it for her. In unison. “She’s a cop.”
The gun in her hand sagged slightly as she registered the information, then snapped back up.
“Listen,” Sam said softly. “I’d love to return to this fascinating discussion on misgendering butch women, but I think something else is more important.” She looked pointedly back to the boy struggling to breathe by the window. His breath had sunk to a low, audible scrape.
“Just go.” The shooter’s voice was low and soft as she caught his mother’s pleading gaze. “Get him outside. But nobody else moves, and you…” She spun the gun toward Heather. “Lock the door behind her.”
The mom scooped him up in her arms and carried him to the door, followed by a nauseated-looking Heather, who quickly unlocked the door to let them out, then locked it behind them. She walked back toward the counter, lifting her eyes to the girl only once. “She said to tell you thank you.”
For just an instant, the girl’s face softened before she pulled it back to stone.
“Look, unless you want me to start calling you Moxie, you need to tell me your name.” Sam paused. “It’s not too late to get out of this, but we’re going to have to work together for that to happen.”
The girl kept the gun trained on Sam but lowered one stiff hand and shook it out. The busser chose that moment to pick up one of the cinnamon rolls and leisurely fold half of it into his mouth, icing dripping onto the front of his apron.
“All right. Moxie it is.” Sam turned her attention back to the girl and took a slow breath. “You need to let the rest of these guys go. Whatever you want, they don’t have it. So let’s simplify things here.”
The last of Sam’s words were drowned out by sudden shouting from the deputy, who’d decided now was a good time to get up, wave his one free hand around, and act a damn fool. “Goddammit! I’ve had it!” He attempted to drag the chair toward the front of the restaurant, his face fury red and spitting with every word. “All I had to do was get one lousy delinquent from point A to point B, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that little thieving Mexican bitch make me look like a—”
Moxie’s face was expressionless as she trained the red laser sight at the deputy’s head with a look serious enough to make everyone but the deputy duck under the nearest table. Dust floated in the wide beam of silent sunlight between them, and everyone watched the next move in the deputy’s master plan, which was to stand in the middle of the floor and wet himself, apparently.
It was all Sam could do not to roll her eyes as she turned back to the girl. “Listen, Moxie.” Soft sounds of crying and true panic had started from every direction as Sam paused, choosing her words carefully. “We’ve got to get everybody out of here. I’m not going to be able to help you fix this and closer to what you want if that gun goes off.”
“Why do you think I want something? Why does everybody always think that?” Moxie lowered her gun and swiped at a tear with the heel of her hand. “’Cause I don’t. I just can’t go to one more stupid house.” She paused to draw in a shaky breath. “I can’t. And I’m sure as hell not going to where that guy just tried to take me.”
Sam looked out the expansive front windows of Moxie Java at the officers running up to the building in formation, guns in the low ready position. Her brother-in-law Murphy brought up the rear and signaled them to surround the building. Sam caught his eye through the glare of the window as he held his hand to his face in the phone sign.
“Listen, if you put that gun down long enough for me get these people to safety, it’ll be just you and me. We can figure out how to get past this.”
“Yeah, right.” Moxie glanced up, suddenly looking very young and completely exhausted. “How do I know you’re not trying to trick me?”
Sam shook her head, her voice soft. “I don’t trick people, Moxie. That’s just not my style.”
“Yep, that’s true.” The same busser finished the last of his cinnamon roll and swiped at the icing of the next one with his finger. “Draper’s good people. Everyone knows that.”
Sam turned back to Moxie and lifted an eyebrow in a silent question. Moxie slowly lowered her gun and stepped back as Sam stepped into action, informing the officers outside of the plan with a quick call and making the exit process as smooth as possible. Everyone but the deputy was out the door in under sixty seconds until the busboy stopped to swipe one of the chocolate muffins out of the display box.
“Oh, for the love of God, man.” Sam signaled him out the door, trying not to laugh despite herself. “Step on it!”
His hair flopped into his face, and he grinned as he passed her, tucking a sugar cookie into the chest pocket of his shirt.
Finding the keys and unlocking the fuming deputy’s handcuffs took forever, and Sam walked him to the door to put as much distance as possible between him and Moxie. He jerked from her grasp and out the door, shouting more of the same tone-deaf obscenities. It was all she could do to not slam the door behind him.
When she got back to the front of the shop, Moxie was sitting on the floor, the gun still cocked, but it was now lying quietly in her lap. Sam got a takeaway cup of water from behind the counter and set it on the floor a few feet away. When she raised her head to speak, Sam noticed a smattering of caramel freckles across her nose.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“I’ve been in law enforcement a long time. Long enough to know this isn’t what you want to be doing.” Sam steeled herself against the smile she felt forming on her face. “So tell me, how did you get away from the Deputy of the Year over there?”
Moxie’s face melted into her first smile, at least until she saw the officers with their guns pointed at the glass door.
Sam’s phone buzzed, and she checked it, then held it up. “It’s the officers outside. They need an update. Is that okay?”
