Los Angeles, California

Keara slid her shaking arms around bent knees and hugged them, the marble floor of the bank lobby cold and hard beneath her bottom.

Nervous energy shimmered around her, her employees also crouched on the floor. Soft sniffles from Carla filled the heavy silence.

“Shut up!” The words echoed in the lobby, stone floors and columns reflecting the sound waves. The man in the balaclava glared at Carla. Carla gasped. The tension thickened.

“Please,” Keara said. “Let them go. I’ll stay.” They’d been like this for almost an hour.

“No!”

At that moment an explosion rocked the building, shattering the dense quiet. Screams and crying erupted around Keara, and she grabbed Jessica beside her.

“What the hell!” The robber froze, then lunged for Keara and dragged her to her feet. His fingers dug painfully into her arm.

“Police! Nobody move!” A voice thundered over the chaos from the direction where the explosion had occurred. They’d blasted a hole in the wall between the bank and the office building next door.

Two men dressed in black bulletproof vests, ball caps and carrying what looked like machine guns appeared, weapons pointed in the direction of the people huddled on the floor of the bank.

Oh dear God. Machine guns. Keara’s gaze flickered to the others, back to the police officers, just as terrifying to her as the man who now wrapped an arm around her throat and pointed his own gun at her head with his other hand.

She was going to die. If the police tried to shoot the robber they could kill her too. If they didn’t, the robber would.

Three guns. All pointed at her.

Her whole body shook as the robber started walking backward, dragging her with him. His arm tightened on her esophagus. Her eyes bulged and she gasped for air.

“Put your gun down!” an officer shouted.

“Like hell,” the robber muttered. He dragged Keara into a hallway and then the vault area.

She fought him. She wasn’t going to die without trying. She clawed his arm, twisted and jerked against him. She felt the damp of his clothing, smelled his sweat. Her throat ached. Reaching up, she grabbed hold of the balaclava covering his face, squeezed it tightly, and as they struggled he hauled her into the vault.

He shoved the door shut behind them then released her with a push that sent her to her knees. Her fingers still clutched the soft knit hat and it came with her as she fell. Her knees burned and she stayed on all fours, panting, frozen, waiting for the shot that would end her life from behind her.

She heard the click of the door lock.

She turned around and rose up on her knees to face the robber, every muscle tight and quivering. Oh Jesus.

Gary.

She knew him.

He’d worked as a security guard at this branch for what…twenty years? Until six weeks ago. When she’d fired him.

“Gary,” she whispered, covering her mouth with her fingers. “What are you doing?”

“I told you what I’m doing. I want half a million dollars. And I want it now. Or you are going to die.”

“But—” She began to climb to her feet, but he sprang at her and knocked her back down. The hard floor smacked her butt and her breath whooshed out of her.

Oh God. Frantic thoughts tumbled around in her head. What was he doing here? Why was he doing this? Was he crazy? How could she have never noticed he was psycho?

“You fired me.” Sweat dripped down his face, flushed cheeks grizzled with gray stubble. Thick gray brows lowered over his eyes as he stared at her. Her stomach clenched. The gun still watched her with that steady eye. “You ruined my life. And my family’s life.”

Keara’s mouth quivered and she swallowed painfully. “It was a business decision,” she choked out. “It was nothing against you personally, Gary. I had to make cuts. It came from head office. This branch hasn’t been performing well.”

“That’s why they transferred you here, isn’t it? That’s why they made you manager. A hatchet lady.”

She shook her head, but it was more or less true. She had been charged with turning the branch around when made manager a year ago. She’d spent the last year working her ass off, trying to improve the branch’s performance and minimize the cuts that had to be done. She stared at him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I had to do it. They wanted twenty positions cut. I got it down to eight. Only eight people had to go.” And Gary had been one of them.

“Great,” he sneered. “That doesn’t help me, does it?”

She licked her lips.

A warbling ring tone came from his pocket and they both froze. Still holding the gun with his right hand, he reached for the phone, slowly brought it out and flipped it open. “Yeah?”

Keara’s stomach churned. She could only hear one side of the conversation.

“I want the money,” he snapped. His eyes shifted to Keara and then he stepped away from her, paced up and down the hall in the back of the bank. “I won’t kill her if I get the money.”

It must be the SWAT team again. They’d talked to him earlier on the bank phone, when he’d given them directions about where to park a car for him to leave with the money. With her.

Her stomach tightened along with every quivering muscle in her body. God. She was going to die. Right here, right now. She was only thirty-one years old.

“How’d you know who I am?” he demanded into the phone.

Keara resisted the urge to look at the security camera up high in the corner of the room. Gary had been a security guard. Did he not remember it was there? The police were probably watching them. She closed her eyes briefly then opened them again as he spoke.

“I’m not telling you that,” he snarled into the phone. “Have you got the car ready? ’Cause Miss Callaghan and I are coming out in a few minutes.” A pause. “Yeah, I said an hour. But now I know I can’t trust you, I’m coming out sooner. With the money.” He looked at her. “Right, Miss Callaghan?”

She stared at him. What was she supposed to do? What?

Gary was listening to the voice at the other end of the phone line. “Of course I can do it. After what she did to me, it won’t be hard to put a bullet in her head.”

Oh. Oh no. She swept a hand over her hair, loosened from its usual low ponytail she wore to work. Would he really do it? She could not believe the man she’d worked with for almost a year, who’d greeted her every day with a cheerful good morning, would actually shoot her. But this man…was not Gary. He was different. Desperate. Tense. Oh Lord.

“What do I care?” he said. “I got nothing to live for.” Another pause. “Yeah. But she doesn’t even know who I am anymore.” His voice cracked. “I just wanna make sure she’s gonna be okay.”

Keara swallowed. Who was he talking about? Clearly it wasn’t her, since he’d just said he’d shoot her in the head. Her brain turned frantically. His wife? Had she heard something about his wife being sick? How bad was it? Why would he do this?

“Just get the car ready. Fifteen minutes.” He snapped the phone shut and shoved it into the pocket of the navy windbreaker he wore.

He gestured with the gun. “Get over there.”

She scuttled into the corner.

He pulled out a shopping bag from another pocket. “Let’s put the money into this.”

“I can’t do that, Gary.”

“Yes, you can.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. I need another person to get into the vault.”

“Bullshit! You’re the manager! You know how to get in.”

She pressed her trembling lips together. He was right. She could.

“Why are you doing this, Gary?”

He stood before her, legs spread, gun pointed at her. “You fired me. I can’t get a job. Who’s gonna hire someone my age? I worked my whole adult life here at the bank, and for what? A measly severance package that didn’t even last six weeks.” He paused, his throat working. “This is my only chance. To look after my wife.”