bar.
She glanced around, but saw no sign of Grady.
“Behind the bar. Get on your knees.”
She opened her mouth, not sure what more she could say. She didn’t think tearful begging would work. It’d just piss him off more. Turning slowly, she walked around the bar. “This doesn’t have to end badly. I’ll lie on the floor no problem. I’ll count to a hundred, until I’m sure you’ve had enough time to get away.”
“On your knees.” His hand slammed down on her shoulder, pushing her to the ground.
Her knees hit hard, and that’s when she saw Grady, hands bound behind him, feet wrapped in duct tape with another silver swatch over his mouth. There was blood dripping down his forehead, but he still managed a wink.
She knelt, feeling as though time had slowed, hoping the escalating violence Jackson had worried about didn’t mean the kid was going to kill them this time. He had a gun. He was agitated enough to use it. Wouldn’t you know, the best night of her life might turn out to have been her last.
At the snap, a fireman, a strapping redhead with shoulders as broad as Gus’s, waded through their rank, whipping the quarterback around and stealing the flag from his back pocket.
The play ended, but Jackson plowed into Beau’s middle, taking him to the ground.
“Damn, man. You tryin’ to kill me?” Beau asked, sitting up and shaking his head as though to clear it. “Ain’t we on the same damn side?”
“Yeah, why so rough today?” Craig asked, sitting on the ground beside them while they all caught their breath.
“Just tryin’ to knock those shit-eating grins off your faces.”
Craig laughed. “Can’t help it. My best buddy’s gettin’ married.”
“You know damn well that’s not what you’re smilin’ about,” Jackson growled.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Craig said, all innocence. He elbowed Beau, who winced. “Do you know what he’s talkin’ about?”
“Haven’t got a damn clue,” Beau said, his gaze locking with Jackson’s.
So that’s how they’d play it.
Jackson nodded. “Guess I don’t have to grind you into the ground.” He got up, reached down and offered a hand to Beau. “Sorry about that buddy.”
Beau snorted. “My sister’s tackled me harder than that.”
Jackson walked to his sports bag to get his thermos. He picked up his telephone and checked for messages. “Thought she’d be here by now.”
“Maybe she decided to sleep in.” At Jackson’s sharp glare, Craig shrugged. “Just sayin’. She had a big night. Girl got engaged.”
Jackson clicked down his list of stored numbers and hit the tavern’s. The phone rang until the message machine picked up. His belly tightened; the hairs on the back of his neck and his arms prickled. “Something’s not right. She said she’d be here right after she and Grady finished their supply order.”
All three locked glances.
Craig blew out a breath. “You don’t think…”
“He’d have to know better than hit a bar on a Sunday,” Beau said. “There’s no cash.”
Jackson cussed and picked up his bag. “Gotta go.”
“Right behind you,” Craig said. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. “Guys!”
Marti’s car was parked in front of the bar. He’d tried her phone again, but it went straight to voice mail.
“Got a bad feeling about this,” Mondo whispered.
While Craig, Mondo and Beau tried the door in front, Jackson and Gus went around the back. It should have been locked, but swung open without depressing the handle. Tape placed over the strike plate explained why.
Jackson and Gus shared a quick glance, then entered the tavern, pulling the door closed behind them. The corridor was darkened except for light glaring from Marti’s office doorway. A quick glance inside told the story. The safe door was open, the cash tray empty beside her purse.
He cussed softly, wishing he had his sidearm, but it was in the safe back at the apartment. No one
She glanced around, but saw no sign of Grady.
“Behind the bar. Get on your knees.”
She opened her mouth, not sure what more she could say. She didn’t think tearful begging would work. It’d just piss him off more. Turning slowly, she walked around the bar. “This doesn’t have to end badly. I’ll lie on the floor no problem. I’ll count to a hundred, until I’m sure you’ve had enough time to get away.”
“On your knees.” His hand slammed down on her shoulder, pushing her to the ground.
Her knees hit hard, and that’s when she saw Grady, hands bound behind him, feet wrapped in duct tape with another silver swatch over his mouth. There was blood dripping down his forehead, but he still managed a wink.
She knelt, feeling as though time had slowed, hoping the escalating violence Jackson had worried about didn’t mean the kid was going to kill them this time. He had a gun. He was agitated enough to use it. Wouldn’t you know, the best night of her life might turn out to have been her last.
At the snap, a fireman, a strapping redhead with shoulders as broad as Gus’s, waded through their rank, whipping the quarterback around and stealing the flag from his back pocket.
The play ended, but Jackson plowed into Beau’s middle, taking him to the ground.
“Damn, man. You tryin’ to kill me?” Beau asked, sitting up and shaking his head as though to clear it. “Ain’t we on the same damn side?”
“Yeah, why so rough today?” Craig asked, sitting on the ground beside them while they all caught their breath.
“Just tryin’ to knock those shit-eating grins off your faces.”
Craig laughed. “Can’t help it. My best buddy’s gettin’ married.”
“You know damn well that’s not what you’re smilin’ about,” Jackson growled.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Craig said, all innocence. He elbowed Beau, who winced. “Do you know what he’s talkin’ about?”
“Haven’t got a damn clue,” Beau said, his gaze locking with Jackson’s.
So that’s how they’d play it.
Jackson nodded. “Guess I don’t have to grind you into the ground.” He got up, reached down and offered a hand to Beau. “Sorry about that buddy.”
Beau snorted. “My sister’s tackled me harder than that.”
Jackson walked to his sports bag to get his thermos. He picked up his telephone and checked for messages. “Thought she’d be here by now.”
“Maybe she decided to sleep in.” At Jackson’s sharp glare, Craig shrugged. “Just sayin’. She had a big night. Girl got engaged.”
Jackson clicked down his list of stored numbers and hit the tavern’s. The phone rang until the message machine picked up. His belly tightened; the hairs on the back of his neck and his arms prickled. “Something’s not right. She said she’d be here right after she and Grady finished their supply order.”
All three locked glances.
Craig blew out a breath. “You don’t think…”
“He’d have to know better than hit a bar on a Sunday,” Beau said. “There’s no cash.”
Jackson cussed and picked up his bag. “Gotta go.”
“Right behind you,” Craig said. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. “Guys!”
Marti’s car was parked in front of the bar. He’d tried her phone again, but it went straight to voice mail.
“Got a bad feeling about this,” Mondo whispered.
While Craig, Mondo and Beau tried the door in front, Jackson and Gus went around the back. It should have been locked, but swung open without depressing the handle. Tape placed over the strike plate explained why.
Jackson and Gus shared a quick glance, then entered the tavern, pulling the door closed behind them. The corridor was darkened except for light glaring from Marti’s office doorway. A quick glance inside told the story. The safe door was open, the cash tray empty beside her purse.
He cussed softly, wishing he had his sidearm, but it was in the safe back at the apartment. No one
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