“Oh, my gosh! I’m so sorry.” She sighed as she bent to gather her things. “I swear, it’s just been one of those days, you know?”
Oh, yes. She was familiar with “those” types of days.
Raegan flashed the frazzled customer a quick smile. “Here. Let me help.”
“Thank you so much!”
No…thankyou.
The other woman had no way of knowing she’d just given Raegan the chance to—hopefully—watch the suspicious man without it being quite so noticeable.
Squatting down, she started picking up a few of the woman’s scattered things. Lip gloss. Ink pen. A business card to a hair salon she’d never heard of. A scrunchy with a few brown strands of hair tangled within.
Raegan’s gaze slid back and forth between the mess on the floor and the young man dressed in black.
Please let this be a simple case of paranoia run amuck. I have enough on my mind already, thank you very much.
But apparently, fate—the bitch—had already decided today was not the day to listen because just as Raegan handed the woman her things and pushed herself back to her feet, all hell started to break loose.
Despite the feeling that everything was suddenly moving in slow motion, several events took place in rapid succession…
The guy in the hood stopped walking. The shift in his stance alerted Raegan to the telltale bulge at the small of his back. She didn’t have to see what was tucked beneath the shirt’s thick black cotton to know exactly what it was.
Gun!
Raegan’s hand flew to her hip as the suspect pulled a black pistol from the waist of his pants and pointed the barrel high into the air.
“Everyone down on the ground!” He shot a single bullet into the ceiling as soon as the order had been given.
Screams erupted, and chunks of plaster rained down from up above, but she tuned it all out. The only thing Raegan heardwas the sound of her own racing heart. The only thing she was focused on…
The man who’d just turned his attention her way.
“Drop the weapon!” Her index finger left its disciplined position and began curling around the trigger.
Her heart thudded against her ribs as the pit of her stomach fell. This was the first time she’d been faced with the choice of ending someone’s life since the day Samer Nasim Ali and his friends attacked the Iraqi base.
She’d made that choice several times that day before shooting Samer point-blank in the head. Raegan had passed out believing the terrorist son of a bitch was dead. But then?—
Put that shit out of your head and focus on the dickhead standing in front of you!
Hyperaware of the innocent lives around her, Raegan kept her gaze laser-focused on the man pointing his weapon straight at her head.
“Put the gun down and get your hands in the air!”
Her directive went unanswered as the man’s dark eyes grew wide the moment he saw her. With him fully facing her now, she quickly committed to memory every curve of the guy’s high cheekbones. Every freckle covering his long, straight nose. The light brown skin and well-structured face.
“I’m not going to tell you again.” Raegan held her Glock 19 steady in her hands. “Put the weapon on the ground and raise your hands into the air!”
Worry snaked through her for the innocent lives still stuck inside the building. The bank employees who’d taken heed and ducked behind the long counter. The customers squatted down or lying face-first on the slick, cool floor.
The terrified mom and her sobbing little girl.
Raegan relied on her training and skills to tune them all out so that she could remain focused on the threat at hand. Herracing pulse became deafening in her ears as the man with the gun let his weight shift from one foot to the other.
Dark, thick lashes flattened above a set of deep, dark brown eyes. Fear continued taking up residency in the young man’s gaze, but that wasn’t all.
Swirling behind the browns in his stare was also confusion and determination. There was also a flash of recognition Raegan didn’t understand, but before she could try to decipher what any of it meant for her and the others around her, the shooter’s entire demeanor changed.