Page 3 of Taken By the Mobster

Chapter 2

Declan

Declan called the shots; it didn’t matter if the other men appreciated his methods. They didn’t question him. Declan Quinn was in charge. Period.

Once everyone was on the bank floor, Declan gestured to the doors, the signal to barricade them. The men behind him turned, as if they were one unit, to do as ordered. Only then did Declan move across the floor, headed for the pretty brunette behind the counter.

“Everybody put your cell phones on the floor next to your head,” he heard Conor yell. “Take them out nice and slow, no sudden moves. We don’t need any dead heroes today.”

After a year, they had this down to a precise science. His men knew exactly what to do.

Declan stared at the woman on the other side of the counter. She seemed familiar, as if he’d seen her somewhere before. He ignored the feeling; she was just another scared bank teller, not anyone he knew.

“Put your hands up. Do not even think about hitting that button,” he said. “Do you understand me?”

The woman nodded.

“Good. Now, you’re coming with me, sweetheart,” he said. “I need you to open the vault.”

The woman didn’t move; she stood behind the counter staring at him. After a few seconds, she blinked, and her eyes focused on him. “Wh-what?” she mumbled.

Declan hated it when they froze; it made this so much harder.

He sighed. “Where’s the bank manager?” he asked.

“G-gone home,” the woman stammered. “I-I’m the only employee here.”

“Can you open the vault?” he asked.

The woman gripped the edge of the counter so hard, her knuckles turned white. She nodded, but a strangled moan fell from her lips.

Declan leaned over the counter. “Can you open it?” he asked again, his tone menacing.

“Y-yes,” she whispered.

Declan put a hand on the counter, and, in one simple move, he vaulted over it. He loved the old banks in these small towns for precisely this reason. They hadn’t upgraded their security: they hadn’t put in the bulletproof glass, the door buzzers, or the new cameras. It made them easy targets for robbing.

Once he stood beside the woman, he pointed down the back hall with the gun in his hand, indicating she should walk in front of him. Despite the fear he sensed coming off her, she stood tall as she walked to the back of the bank. Her hands shook as she unlocked the vault and pulled open the heavy door.

Declan glanced inside, then let out a sharp whistle. Murphy and Walsh appeared seconds later and grabbed the empty bags stashed along the inside wall of the vault. Without a word, they loaded the bags with cash, bonds, and whatever else they could pull from the safe.

Declan took the woman’s arm and moved her, so she stood against the wall opposite the open bank vault. He stood beside her. She closed her eyes and clenched her hands together in front of her.

“Quinn?” the man inside the vault called out to Declan. “I need some help in here.”

The girl’s eyes shot open as soon as Murphy called his name, and she snuck a look at him out of the corner of her eye.

“You’re … you’re Declan Quinn? That guy who has been robbing all the banks?” she asked. Her voice shook as she spoke.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. He glared at her. “Don’t move,” he ordered.

She nodded. Obviously, he scared her; scratch that, he terrified her. Her breath tore in and out of her throat, shallow and uneven, and tremors of fear rolled through her as she sagged against the wall. She knew who he was, and it terrified her.

Declan stepped into the vault. “What?” he snapped.

“Do you want the safety deposit boxes cleared out?” Murphy asked.

“No, leave them.” Declan checked his watch. “We’ve got three minutes. Move your asses.”

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