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PROLOGUE
“Please be money. Please be money,” Daisy Parker whispered, one hand sliding her card into the ATM, the other crossing her fingers. While waiting for her turn, she’d been mentally calculating what might be left in her account if the euros she’d transferred hadn’t come through yet. It had been years since she’d used her bank in New Bern.
Just as she pushed the button to see her balance, a rush of cold air hit her back as someone opened the outside door to the ATM vestibule. She thought nothing of it until she heard a panicked gasp from the man who’d just used the machine and an impatient groan from someone behind her.
Daisy turned and bit back a scream. A man wearing a balaclava ski mask was pointing a gun at her and the two others. Panic shot through her. Then annoyance. She’d lived in some of the most dangerous cities in the world and never had this happen. Now, one week into her hometown visit, she’s being robbed? Unbelievable.
“All of you against that wall.” The masked man used the gun to point at the wall behind Daisy.
The guy who’d been ahead of her obeyed immediately and rushed to stand where instructed. He was about Daisy’s height, just as skinny, and wore a multicolored scarf and loafers. She’d been so busy hoping her account had money, she hadn’t noticed another man waiting behind her. He towered over both of them, was twice as thick, and wore a baseball hat and a black bomber jacket. Testosterone rolled off him. Daisy made eye contact, and he gave a subtle nod and a slow blink, indicating she should comply. She took a step back to the wall. He wasn’t so quick to acquiesce.
“Now!” the robber yelled.
“All right. Take it easy.” The guy in the baseball cap sauntered over and stood on Daisy’s right. He moved slowly, but she noted shrewd green eyes darting back and forth, keenly assessing the situation. They were in a glass booth outside the bank, and Daisy prayed someone walking or driving by would see them and call the police.
The man on Daisy’s left stood with his hands in the air. The only thing rolling off him was fear and meekness.
“Hand it over,” the robber said to Daisy, nodding to the purse slung over her shoulder. She hesitated. Having lived all over the world, she considered herself street-smart and capable. Sure, she’d been pickpocketed, but never robbed at gunpoint.
Being a victim didn’t sit well, and she tried to recall if there was anything in her purse she could use as a weapon. Her dad had given her a canister of mace for Christmas last year, but she’d left it with a friend in Paris. If she could get her boot off, the three-inch heel might do some damage, but it wouldn’t stop bullets.
“I don’t really have anything of value,” she said. Unfortunately, that was true.
“You got a watch,” he said. “And a phone. I want both. And any money you have.”
“My watch isn’t worth much,” Daisy said. It was a gift from her host family in Japan, and while it didn’t have monetary value, it was special to her.
“Bitch, I ain’t asking,” the man said. One hand leveled the gun at her, the other was outstretched to take her stuff.
“Lady, just give it to him,” Scarf Guy begged.
Staring down the barrel of a gun weakened her bravado and, deciding “stuff” wasn’t worth her life, she handed him her watch and phone. He paused to give her a lecherous top-to-bottom scan. “Nice stems.”
“Gross,” she muttered, looking away so he wouldn’t see her eye roll.
“You next,” the robber said, turning to the pansy on Daisy’s left, who still held his hands high. “Give me your wallet.”
“Hey, I don’t want any trouble. Take whatever you want,” he said, offering his wallet, phone, and watch.
The guy in the baseball cap did a double-take and shot him a disgusted look. “You oughta give up that scarf,” he mumbled.
Daisy barked out a laugh, then slapped her hand over her mouth. She must be going into shock.
“Now you,” the gunman said, swinging the gun to Daisy’s right.
“No,” the man in the bomber jacket said. He looked like he could handle himself in a fight, but against a gun?
The robber approached him. The gun inches from his chest. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“Dude, just give him your wallet,” the wimpy guy said, on the verge of tears.
“I’ve got other plans.”
“Oh, yeah,” the bad guy said. “What are you gonna do?”
In a series of lightning-quick punches and jabs, grunts and groans, the robber was disarmed, on his knees, clutching his stomach, and whimpering. If Daisy had blinked, she would have missed it.
