Tomorrow. There would be a tomorrow and he’d do it then.
His hand hovered near the weapon hidden by his left ankle as his gaze shot to the door. The room fell into a shadowy gray as two men by the floor-to-ceiling front windows lowered the shades, blocking out the street beyond.
Ben had no idea where the masks and guns came from, but the men had both. And it all happened in less than ten seconds.
With a gun and a knife, Ben could take on a few of them. He counted four masked gunmen. No way could he win a shoot-out against that many without civilians getting hit in the cross fire. Joel and Connor and the police, whom Connor would’ve surely contacted, evened the odds, but they had to get inside to be useful.
Rather than risk drawing attention or starting a bloodbath, Ben ignored the weapons. For now. He thought about the small silver ball in his ear. “Joel, you getting this?”
“Yep.”
“Everyone shut up.” The gunman in the middle of the room held up his weapon as he shouted his order.
Shoes clicked against the floor as two more armed men circled around him, both with their faces hidden. They paced through the curled and crying bodies of bank patrons scattered around the floor and hiding behind any desk or counter they could find. Most people sat huddled in groups on the floor and soft wailing came from Ben’s blind side.
The gunman by the front door swung his gun over the room and stopped on a businessman. “Everyone down now. Phones and wallets on the floor in front of you and no talking.”
Clothing rustled and feet shuffled as the last of the bank patrons crawled to the floor. A fierce tremble ran through Jocelyn as she lay half on her side with her legs out behind her. Ben smoothed a hand over hers on the ground, hoping his touch would help calm her down.
“Get on your knees,” he whispered right into her ear. The theory being, with her feet under her, he could get her up if the chance for escape presented itself. The gunmen had to load the money and soon if they wanted to make this quick, which was the point of a bank robbery. Which was not why Ben thought they were here.
Ben barely made a sound but the man in the middle turned toward him. In two steps, he was on top of them, sticking the barrel of the gun in Ben’s face. “You got something to say, hotshot?”
Ben shook his head, bowing until his forehead almost touched the floor beside Jocelyn’s prone form in what he hoped looked like a move of deference. He really wanted to hide his face and keep hers down in the event the men were here for them and hadn’t picked them out yet. When the scuffed shoes finally disappeared from in front of his nose, Ben eased his chest back up and ran a hand through his hair.
“This, folks, is a robbery, and anyone who talks or moves gets killed.” The man in the middle of the room turned around in a circle as he talked in a low, gravelly voice. “Anyone touches an alarm or yells, dies. You stay calm and you get to walk out of here in a few minutes.”
Ben looked for bags, for any movement toward the counter to gather money. Nothing. The attackers stood, weapons up and ready, taking their time and staking out positions across the room. They forfeited speed and quiet in favor of getting the people on the floor and the visibility to the outside blocked.
With a nod from the guy in the middle, who clearly acted as leader, two of the men broke off and headed to the slim staircase that ran to the balcony above them. Ben saw an open landing in a square around the main part of the room. There were a few doors up and off to his right, but nothing else up there but a walkway.
Ben guessed the men could gain a strategic position from above, but they walked up the stairs and kept going until they hit the emergency door. None of their actions made sense. Ben expected sirens any minute. This type of crime only worked if the attackers made a rush for the money and then raced to a waiting car. Even then it was a high-risk operation in the middle of a busy business day.
And if they wanted Jocelyn, why not grab her?
He wasn’t familiar with this bank but he could see the door to the safe right there on the main floor. He had no idea what could be upstairs that would warrant this kind of attention from gunmen who should want to grab and run.
But they didn’t run. They didn’t even move fast.
That nerve at the back of Ben’s neck ticked. He recognized the pull for what it was—a fresh warning. Tension flooded through him with a kick of adrenaline streaming right behind. This was no in-and-out. No grabbing of the people in charge. These guys had something else in mind. Likely something that involved Jocelyn.
“What are they doing?” She asked the question to the floor, low and barely above a hum.
“No idea.”
But he knew they were all in trouble.