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Hannah cried out, but a firm hand on her arm stalled her from moving forward. She looked up to find Blake had moved in next to her, watching the gunman with narrow-eyed determination.
“Come on; get a move on. I don’t have all day,” the gunman snapped.
The five customers, including Blake, did as he asked. The only one missing was Chloe, and hope flashed through Hannah as she imagined Chloe calling the cops from inside their tiny bathroom.
“Your cell phone and whatever tips you got hidden in that apron.”
Hannah realized the gunman was talking to her, and she set the black phone next to the others.
“I said give me your tips.”
“They’re in the jars next to the register,” she said. “There should be three of them, with our names taped to the outside.”
While he grabbed a plastic to-go bag from under the counter and started shoveling the phones, wallets, and purses into it, Hannah glanced toward Blake. His jaw was clenched, his gaze glued on the hooded man.
In any of the books or romantic movies she loved, this would be the moment that the heroine would turn to the hero and say something clever like, “If we make it out of this, we’re going on a date. You’re buying.”
But this was real life, and there was a good chance once this man got what he wanted, he was going to just open fire and take them all out.
Once the cash register and the tip jars had been collected, the man shoved Kenny to the ground roughly. “You stay down there. And you”—he pointed his gun at her again—“get over here. You’re going to see I get out of here safely.”
Hannah took a step toward him, her feet heavy, as if she was sporting cement blocks for shoes.
She gasped when Blake stepped in front of her.
“You don’t need her. You got what you wanted, so why don’t you take it and go?” Blake said.
As the black gun swung toward Blake, Hannah’s world tilted. She couldn’t let Blake get shot because of her.
“Stop, please, I’m coming.” She pushed past Blake and moved until she was right in the line of fire, walking slowly toward him. “You don’t have to shoot anyone.”
“Hannah . . . ” Blake’s growl rumbled behind her, but she kept her attention on the gunman.
“I’m going with you. You don’t need to be scared. No one is going to hurt you.” She spoke as if she was talking to a wounded animal or one of her kindergarteners, slow and easy.
The man didn’t seem to be listening, still focused on Blake, waving the gun up and down unsteadily.
“I said no heroes. Believe me, she ain’t worth dying over.”
As soon as she was within arm’s distance, the man pointed the gun right into her back, and she led him down the hall.
Please, if you get me out of this, I will do anything. Just . . .
Blake’s smile . . . his eyes . . . and the last angry glare he’d sent the gunman’s way flashed through her mind.
Please, let me see Blake again.
A STONE SETTLED into the pit of Blake’s stomach as he helplessly watched Hannah disappear, the gun trained on the middle of her back. If the man’s finger pressed that trigger, the shot was too close not to be fatal.
Blake still couldn’t believe she’d stepped in front of him. He’d given her the perfect opportunity to escape and let him handle things, and she’d put herself right back in harm’s way.
The minute Hannah and the gunman were out of sight, Blake moved. Turning the lock on the door, he raced out the front and around the side of the building, his footsteps slowing even as his heartbeat picked up speed. He listened for the sound of approaching feet and knew that the gunman had to bring Hannah back down this way; the other side of the alley was a dead end into a brick wall.
Blake tried to remain calm, but he’d seen the pale white of Hannah’s cheeks, the usual rosy hue leached away by terror, and he imagined Jenny in her place. Had Jenny tried to intervene when the gunman had entered the Base Exchange, or had she been quiet? Following his instructions and just hoping she made it out alive?
He heard footsteps approaching and knew that even if it meant he didn’t make it, Hannah was going to walk away unscathed.
Hannah stepped out first, and before she even noticed him, he pulled her toward him. He pushed her past him, out of the gunman’s sight.
