Rescued by the SEAL (Black Ops)

“Cora,” he sighed, crumpling the paper in his fist.

My head jerked up before he could say anything else. “If you’re not going to ask me on a date, then there’s nothing personal left for us to say. Have a nice day and thank you for your business.”

“Fuck,” he groaned as he shoved the receipt into his pocket.

“Nope, sorry, There will be no effing between us because we’re never going out. I guess I’ll just have to finally take someone else up on their offer instead of waiting around for you.” I wasn’t being entirely honest with him. Although I usually got asked out at least once a week by a male customer, I’d never been even the tiniest bit tempted to accept any of those offers. Unfortunately for me, the only guy I was interested in was Huntley, and he seemed determined to ignore whatever was happening between us. It wasn’t nice of me to lie to him like that, but I was hurt by his rejection and lashing out in my pain.

“No fucking way,” he gritted out, reaching out to grip my chin.

I had a hunch my verbal jab pushed him over the edge, but I didn’t get the chance to see how he would respond. My eyes went wide when I glanced over his shoulder to avoid his gaze and saw several guys in ski masks. I didn’t have any time to react before the one closest to us aimed his gun toward the ceiling, fired off a shot, and yelled, “Everyone, get down!”

2

Huntley

Shit!

Cora gasped, and I grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze and nodding, silently telling her everything would be all right. She still looked terrified, but her eyes softened a tiny bit, looking back at me with trust. Before turning around, I zipped my jacket to keep them from spotting the Glock in my shoulder holster.

I dragged my gaze away from Cora, and as soon as she was out of my line of sight, my brain finally kicked into gear. I shoved away the rage and jealousy that coursed through me when she mentioned dating another man. I’d figure that shit out later. I needed to focus on what was going on since I’d been too distracted to notice what had been about to happen in the first place.

My eyes scanned the room, cataloging every detail. Four robbers dressed in black and wearing ski masks: all men from the looks of their build. I memorized their height, weight, and any other distinguishing features I could see.

Between the four of them, they were packing four M4A1 automatic rifles and four openly visible Desert Eagle handguns. I clocked two more handguns, both shoved into the back of two of the robbers’ pants.

As I watched their movements, one barred the door and lowered the shades while another collected cell phones from the patrons and instructed them where to sit. At the same time, one disappeared into the back—presumably to flush out any other employees—and the last one tossed an Army green duffel bag to each teller and demanded they fill them from their tills.

Their actions were well-coordinated, and they moved in sync with each other, suggesting they were a crew who worked together frequently. I doubted many would have spotted their earpieces, but I’d seen the best of the best when it came to equipment in my job.

The tall, skinny guy corralling the patrons pushed us all into a corner and told us to sit down. After the rest of the employees were ushered over to join us, a guy built like a brick house—I could tell he was the one in charge—made a hand signal, and they grabbed the bank manager by the arm, lifting him to his feet and escorting him to the back.

The tellers were told to sit with the rest of us, and Cora hurried over to drop down beside me. I put my arm around her and tucked her close to my side. She glanced up, but I shook my head when she looked as though she might speak.

One of the two men left in the lobby touched his ear for a moment, then his gaze scanned over the hostages, eventually landing on Cora.

Fuck!

I wasn’t about to go John McClane on his ass and risk anyone getting hurt, but it took everything in me to let Cora go when he stalked over and demanded she stand. Her frightened eyes met mine before he squeezed her arm and dragged her to the back.

The remaining robber was slowly pacing the room, his rifle resting on his shoulder. He did a sweep of the area every few minutes, including a lingering glance out the window on the opposite side from us.

Whenever his eyes left the hostages, I scooted backward inch by inch. I knew I was an intimidating presence, and most people tended to let me lead in any situation without even realizing it. So, it wasn’t surprising when the crowd parted a little at a time, allowing me to make my way to the back. Then they swallowed the hole. I was impatient, but I kept myself in check, knowing that too much too fast would bring my movement to the robbers’ attention.