Page 17 of Fight for Me

“Stand up,” he said. “You’ll do.”

Anne’s heart stuttered. She didn’t move. She knew what was coming. She was going to be that person the bad guy puts in front of him so the cops didn’t shoot. Of course, after they make their getaway, nothing good happened to that person.

“I said get up.” His voice was louder this time.

She heard his partner yell from across the room, “Let’s go. Time’s up.”

The man, impatient, reached down and grabbed Anne’s arm that wasn’t pinned under Blane’s body. Anne made a noise.

“You don’t want to do that.” Blane’s voice was ice.

“Shut up before I shut you up.” He yanked painfully on Anne’s arm, dragging her out from under Blane. Anne had no leverage to stop him. Her whole body shook from fear and adrenaline.

Things happened really fast then, so fast, Anne could barely follow.

Since the robber was bending over to pull her up, he was off-balance, his rifle closer to Blane. Blane reached out and gave a vicious tug on the rifle, yanking it out of the man’s hand. His fist shot out to the man’s groin and the robber immediately collapsed. Blane swung the butt of the rifle at the man’s head with a meatythunkand he was out cold.

Anne stared, stunned, at the knocked-out robber.

Blane was on his feet, his rifle pointed at the second man. Anne thought he’d say something, but to her shock, he fired twice. She watched the second robber drop. He didn’t move.

There were more screams at the gunshots, but now they slowly died away as people realized the gunmen were down. Those nearest the door rose and rushed to open it. To Anne’s relief, a wave of uniformed police came surging inside.

Rolling onto her back, Anne shakily sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. Had that really just happened? Had Blane just saved her? Saved them all? The whole thing had been over in a matter of seconds.

Cops swarmed them and Blane was talking to them, the gun on the ground and his hands in the air. Anne couldn’t focus on what they were saying. She was suddenly so cold, she was shivering. The cops moved on and Blane crouched down next to her.

“Are you all right?” he asked for the second time that night.

Anne nodded, her eyes on the now-cuffed man on the floor.

Blane shrugged out of his jacket and swung it over her shoulders. It was still warm from his body heat and Anne’s shivering subsided.

“You’re in shock,” he said. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

He helped her to her feet and they headed for the door.

“But I’m still wearing the dress,” Anne protested, a part of her brain wondering why she was fixating on this after what had just happened.

“I own it and I say you can wear it.”

The police at the door stopped them, but Blane flashed some ID and said something about giving a statement.

“What about her?”

“She’s with me.”

In another moment, they were outside. Anne was temporarily blinded by the flash of photographers. Questions began being shouted at them from behind a police barricade.

“Senator! Is it true that you were the one who disarmed the gunmen?”

“Do you know how two armed men were able to enter the premises?”

“Senator! Can you tell us what happened?”

“Who is that with you, senator?”

Police kept them at bay as a pale valet stepped out of Blane’s car and handed him the keys. He opened the passenger door and Anne slid gratefully inside. She was more glad than ever for the jacket since it was large enough to cover what little she was wearing underneath.

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