Page 45 of Love Bank
In my panicked state, his voice brooked no argument. I wasn’t thinking of saving the day or trying to talk my way out of anything. He could have every goddamn cent I had. I just wanted to live past this terrifying moment and see more Cock.
“I-I have m-money in the desk.” Black spots threatened my vision, but I blinked hard to stay alert. Keva was in the sample room. I had to give these guys what they wanted so they’d be gone by the time she came out.
The one behind me shoved me toward the desk. The gun no longer pressed against my forehead, but I knew he’d keep it trained on me regardless. The gun served no purpose here. My limbs were wobbling too badly to try any funny business.
I pulled open each drawer, my shaking hands making a mess of the neat stacks of things, trying to find any and all money we kept stashed away. The bottom drawer held our cash box. I took the key out of the top drawer to open it, but couldn’t seem to get the key in the hole.
“Give me that,” the guy with the gun snarled. He grabbed the keys and jammed them in the lock box on the first try. He snatched the money with his free hand and nodded to the guy behind me.
“Where’s your purse?” he growled in my ear.
Oh, shit. Back in my office, which meant we’d have to walk right by the sample room.
“M-my office?”
“Lead the way.” He shoved me forward, which wrenched on my arms, causing a shooting pain to light up the front of my shoulders. I whimpered but started walking, knowing the sooner I gave them everything, the sooner they’d leave.
We marched down the hall together, an odd threesome bound by one very bad decision that brought us together. I stared a hole into the door to the sample room, willing it to stay shut with Keva safely inside. When we got to the end of the hall and turned left toward my office, I let out the tiniest breath of relief.
In my office, the guy followed behind me right to my purse, which I’d left under my desk. I handed them my whole wallet, the other man putting his gun down long enough to rifle through the compartments of the wallet and grab the cash. I looked down at his gun, wondering if it was worth trying to get free while he didn’t have it in his grip. The hands on my forearms squeezed tighter, nails biting into my skin. I’d never be able to overpower the guy holding me.
A flicker of something dark caught my attention and had me looking up from the gun on my desk. I could have sworn I saw something.
A second later, the door crashed against the wall and a shot rang out. In all my thirty-six years, I’d never heard a gunshot at close range without earplugs in. To say I wasn’t ready for the deafening noise was an understatement. I squeezed my eyes shut, the image of Bain entering the room, a steely-eyed gaze washed of all emotion but rage, caught forever on the back of my eyelids. Everything happened in slow motion like in the movies.
I blinked again, some sense of self-preservation kicking in. I couldn’t just be the damsel in distress. This wasn’t Hollywood; I needed to help save my own damn self.
The guy with the gun slumped to the floor, an angry bellow telling me he wasn’t dead, just impaired from a bullet hole somewhere. The guy behind me reacted by squeezing my arms tighter. I winced but put the pain aside. There’d be time later to feel the effects, but for now, I was running on adrenaline and caffeine, the perfect combo for doing some stupid shit.
I was known for having a thing for the family jewels and, as much as their continued health kept me in a job, I had no qualms exploiting them when absolutely necessary. My foot swung up behind me like I was trying to kick my own ass. Instead, my high heel connected with something decidedly squishy. The yelp in my ear told me I’d hit pay dirt. The guy’s hands released me in order to cup his aching privates. To add insult to dick injury, I reared my head back sharply, cracking him in what I hoped was his nose. The hit jarred my own head, but based on the yelp and the crunch, I figured it hurt him more than it hurt me.
I scrambled forward, intent on getting out of that damn room like my life depended on it, which was funny because it sort of did. Before I got more than a step or two in that direction, Bain snagged my sore arm and pulled me behind him, his gun and attention still trained on the two moaning men. My own attention was split. Half of me was so high on adrenaline and fear I couldn’t feel a damn thing. The other half noticed every single one of Bain’s muscles pressed up tight against me as I clung to him. I couldn’t even see what was going on out there his back was so broad, which was fine by me. I’d seen enough of those two men to last me a lifetime. I would just spend the rest of mine staring intently at Bain’s ass in these pants.
Boots echoed somewhere in the recesses of my brain. Another figure entered the room and I barely spared the chief a glance. Was Bain flexing right now? Or were those muscles that pert just relaxed? I remained oddly fascinated and entranced.
“Quit grabbing my ass, Lucy,” Bain whispered, his face twisted around to try to see behind him.
I snatched my hand back from where it had been testing the flex theory. Heat surged forward to melt the ice in my gut and flood my cheeks. I peeked around Bain and saw the chief and another police officer handcuffing my two assailants. When they carted them out of my office and down the hall, Bain clicked something on his gun and put it back in the holster at his waist. Still I clung to his back, my fingers not wanting to let go of his uniform shirt quite yet.
“Lucy, honey, let go,” Bain urged me.
He reached back and covered one of my hands with his, loosening my fingers and peeling me off of him, only to pull me back into his body. This time, his broad chest crushed me to him, his arms banded around me like they might not ever let go. My face sandwiched between his two pec muscles, the smell of him—cologne and man sweat—soaking into my senses and welcoming me home. His heartbeat thundered in his chest and I relished in the sound. He was alive. I was alive.
We were going to be all right.
It was probably the adrenaline dump or survivor’s high, but I felt a hop, skip, and a jump away from humping his leg and begging him to put the handcuffs to good use.
“Keva!” I gasped, pulling back as I remembered the poor girl in the sample room. Here I was, ready to fling my virginity off with abandon while she may be frightened. The poor thing was only eighteen years old and entirely too innocent and adorable to have been hurt somehow by those assholes.
“Ssh…she’s fine. I had her exit out the front and wait for the police to arrive.” Bain smoothed the hair on my head, his huge hand a balm to the tremors that still wracked my body. I laid my cheek on his chest and squeezed my eyes shut, needing just a little longer in his embrace. I wasn’t sure the last bit of the cold that had settled into my gut the second I saw the barrel of that gun would ever leave.
“Lucille?” The chief’s gruff voice interrupted us some time later. “We’re gonna need to get your statement, darlin’.”
Bain gave me a last squeeze and set me back. His hands were gentle on me, but there was something off in his eyes. The gray, normally so alive and sparkly, seemed clouded. Maybe he was sick of hugging the lady who blackmailed him and caused more trouble than she was worth.
I’d have to figure out Bain later. That would take considerably more time and mental headspace than I had at the moment. I needed to finish this ordeal first. A dark spot on the floor grabbed my attention now that I wasn’t so close to all those muscles.
“Well, crap. They got blood on my new rug.” I pointed an accusatory finger.
