Page 111 of Protected By West
Myles stretched out his legs flexing his feet up and down. "I'd rather he stayed in the car. Maybe we can approach under the windows and yank him out. Take him out of the equation."
"He's getting out."Dally pointed at the screen of his iPad. “He might be doing himself more damage than anything else. The windshield is a minefield of broken glass. There's likely some jagged metal. He might end up bleeding out before we get in there."
West shook his head at that assessment.
Not because he didn't believe it but because it was bad news.
Fox spoke up from the driver's seat. "A dying man is a dangerous one. If he's angry, he might decide to go scorched earth. Looks like we're just a couple of minutes out. Someone keep an eye on the second man. If there's anything on him that looks like a weapon we need to know."
Jack spoke up next. "Does Tracy have a CC permit?"
West shook his head but answered out loud so everyone could hear it. "No. She can shoot but doesn't want to carry at work."
Inside he was waffling back and forth. Did he want Tracy to have a gun on her?
Yes and no.
Did he want her to be able to defend herself?
Absolutely.
But she'd told him that she didn't feel like carrying a gun. There were just too many opportunities for something to go wrong.
He'd understood her thoughts, but now, facing the very real possibility of her suffering an injury or worse, he kind of wished that he'd taken her out to the range and talked her into a concealed carry permit.
TRACY
She put herself in between the man and Estes. Weston's sister was still on the ground, but Tracy didn't dare turn around to look at her. Not yet. Turning her back on the man with the gun seemed to be the worst decision she could make.
The next worst?
Not picking Fox's brain for how to talk a man down from a potentially life-ending decision.
She had to hope that he didn't know that she was the head of the credit union.
She'd put good money on the fact that he wasn't a member.
He looked around the room, letting his gaze linger on the car for a moment before finishing his visual assessment with a hard look at her face. "So, this is some kind of bank, right?"
Now she wanted to kick his butt.
Mentally she rolled her sleeves up to her elbows and balled up her fists.
She just hoped that her face had a more... placid expression.
"Yes. We're a credit union."
The man smiled like he'd hit some kind of jackpot.
Wrong town, jerk, she grumbled in her head.
"You got one of those bags that the money comes in?"
"I do. I have one that we use for deposits."
He waved the gun toward the counter a couple of times, returning it to the original position, right at her chest, each time.
"Well? Go get me the cash in your drawer."
