Page 84 of Single Mom's Firemen

“Miranda.”

“Miranda, if you move another inch, I swear I will end you.”

“They’ll hear you.”

“See this cylinder at the end of my gun?” I ask, half-smiling. And there it is. The realization. “They won’t hear a thing. Is it really worth it? I’ll pay you twice as much as what Colby is paying you if you stay quiet, sit tight, and keep your hands up, especially when the cops arrive.”

Miranda stares at me with confusion. “Who the hell are you?”

“Not someone you want to mess with,” I bluntly reply. “Do we have a deal?”

“Show me the money first.”

Wow, that was fast. Then again, why would I expect Colby to have any true friends, given the string of terrible decisions that he’s made over the years. The man pays for affection, attention, and loyalty. But he is not invincible, nor as slippery as he thinks.

“Luna, honey, can you reach into my back pocket, please?” I ask, then wait for her to pull my wallet out. “Attagirl.” I look at Miranda again. “How much?”

“How much you got on you?”

“Got more in the bank and I’m a man of my word.”

“How much you got on you?” she asks me again.

This is going to be easier than I thought. It shouldn’t shock me, though. I’ve seen what Colby is capable of, and having a gun pointed at one’s head does make one rethink their options and future decisions in a matter of split seconds. “Show me the wallet, Luna?” I tell my sweet baby girl. Yeah, she’s more my kid than Colby’s. She’s our kid, both her and Sammy. They’re our family, and we’re getting our family back. “Alright, thank you, honey. Please take the money out now,” I add, then give Miranda a wry smile. “Five hundred.”

“All of it?” Luna asks.

“Yep. And give it to Miranda, please.”

With delicate but controlled gestures, Luna takes the cash out of my wallet. She shoves it back into my pocket, then walks over and gives Miranda the money. A moment later, she’s by my side again, with Sammy in tow.

“What do I have to do?” Miranda asks quietly, her gaze lowered in shame as she counts the bills, then shoves them in her pink bra, clearly visible beneath a semi-transparent lilac top.

“I already told you. Stay quiet, stay put, and keep your hands up when the police arrive,” I reply. “We’ll make sure they know you’re unarmed and cooperative.”

Miranda nods once. “Don’t tell Colby. Tell him you hit me or something.”

“Trust me, where he’s going, he’s not gonna care,” I say, then alert my brothers by pressing the comms button on my earpiece. “Green light, fellas. We’re coming out now.”

“Roger that.”

I know what’s coming. I hope Colby doesn’t. Up to this point, I’ve been an advocate for a peaceful surrender, a clean operation that would yield as few bodies as possible. I’ve been sympathetic toward Chase’s inner turmoil, as well, but I was adamant that nobody else should get hurt in the process. Yet all it took was one look at Sammy and Luna—seeing the confusion and the fear marring their sweet, sunny features, understanding how traumatic everything has been for them, realizing how fragile and innocent they are in all of this—and my softer side hardens into cold, merciless steel.

For the first time since we started this, I find myself agreeing that the world would be better off if this were Colby’s last day on earth. Knowing Chase as well as I do, I’m pretty sure it is, unless somebody throws another wrench at our wheels. We’ve had plenty of those, lately.

“Come on, let’s get you munchkins home,” I say, trying to keep as calm as possible as I guide the kids over to the window. “How’s your mom?”

“You have to get Mama,” Luna says with deep concern on her face. “Daddy said she was gonna be okay, but I don’t believe him.”

I need another breath for this. The fear of losing Halle hits like a tidal wave crashing into me. I can feel myself crumbling on the inside, but I know I need to get the children out of here. I trust Eric and Chase to handle their part of the mission while I do my job. Halle would want Sammy and Luna as far away from this nightmare as possible, and I’m going to make sure that happens.

“We’re gonna go out the window,” I tell them. “So I need both of you to climb onto me. Imagine I’m a tree, okay?”

They both nod in wary unison.

“Did you bring that cool ladder again?” Sammy asks, remembering the night of the diner fire. It tears my heart to know that he may never forget about that. That it may haunt him for the rest of his life.

“No, kiddo, but I’ve got a really cool rope. We’re gonna be like super spies and sneak out of here. I need you both to hold onto me really tight and don’t let go, okay?”

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