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I hear the cook curse to himself in the kitchen and Cher realized her mistake, going whiter than the pillowcase between my fists.
“How very accommodating,” Rook replied, tugging me closer to him, letting me feel the slight bulge of his erection against my lower back.
I pushed against it, biting my lip, making him grunt and pull back.
“Hey!” he shouted, spinning us both around to face the man who’d been in the booth by the door. The one with his cell phone in his hand. “Uh, uh, uh,” Rook cooed and roughly shoved me over to the man, forcing me to my knees at his side. He snatched a fistful of my hair, pulling until my scalp stung and I shivered.
“In the bag,hero,” he said through gritted teeth, and I opened the bag for the man to drop his phone inside to join the cash. He wasn’t giving me any dirty looks now, was he?
Dick.
“You too,” Rook ordered his wife. “Your phone. In the bag. Everyone! Phones out, lay them beside you.Now!”
I feigned injury as Rook dragged me to my feet and forced me around the diner, collecting phones from the floor. “I’m sorry,” I whimpered as I took each one, depositing them into the bag until we got back to the counter.
“Get his phone,” Rook growled at Cher, gesturing to the cook in the kitchen with his gun while I took Cher’s phone from the counter and dropped it in with the others.
“I don’t have a phone,” the cook lobbied through the pass-through window.
Cher’s breath caught, giving away his lie.
Rook’s rough fingers moved from my hair to my throat, the leather of his gloves flexing as he squeezed. I made a show of choking, letting my eyes bug out of my head.
“P-please,” I begged.
“Do you want her blood on your hands?” Rook bellowed, his voice ringing out in the diner. “Hmm?”
“All right,all right!” the cook said, his hands raising palms out in a stopgesture.
I gasped for breath as Rook loosened his grip on my throat but kept his fingers there, brushing the sensitive skin on the side of my neck.
The cook reached very slowly into the front pocket of his stained apron and tossed the phone through the pass.
Cher grabbed it a second after it clattered to the floor and thrust it at me.
“Now, how’s about we open that safe you mentioned, Cher?”
She sent an apologetic look to the red-faced cook before dropping to her knees and opening a small cabinet beneath the register. The telltale tinkling sound of a dial being turned gave me goosebumps.
Cher came up with an armful of cash. Stacks of bills elasticized together with little receipts at the tops of each one that denoted the amounts contained within each stack. My blood buzzed with a euphoria bordering on madness as she shakily stuffed them into the heavy bag clenched between my hands.
“Th-that’s everything,” Cher told Rook. “Now...now just let the girl go and—”
“An ice cream cone,” interrupted Rook. “With all the flavors. Pile it high.”
Her brows drew together.
“Did I fucking stutter?”
She jumped and sped into action, rushing down to the end of the counter to scoop ice cream onto a waffle cone.
Butterflies.
This psycho just gave me butterflies.
My thighs squeezed and he must’ve sensed where my mind went because he let his fingers slip lower, brushing down my collarbone, and lower some more until they caressed the tops of my breasts.
A soft moan escaped my lips just before Cher rushed back with a monster ice cream in her hand.
