Smith pulled the gun away, resting it on his shoulder. "Fucker," he spat, turning around to his accomplice. "You hear that, Sonny? He's got another kid."
Lena was watching Sara, and the other woman's face went slack as if she was having a small seizure. She knew, Lena thought. She knew who they were.
Sonny was pissed that he had been given away, and he snapped. "Thanks a lot, Eric."
Smith ran over to his partner, and they spoke in harsh whispers to each other. Lena strained to hear them, but they were being too careful. She chanced a look back at Marla, and the old lady had a glint in her eye. Lena realized she had been playing the part all along. She glanced down at Marla's hands, trying to see where she had hidden the knife.
"Fuck off!" Smith screamed, and Sonny pushed him hard enough so that Smith stumbled and fell.
Glass and debris scattered as Smith scrambled to get up. He ripped off his mask, which sent a sharp fear through Lena, as if someone had reached into her chest and grabbed her heart. Smith got back in Sonny's face, screaming obscenities, and all Lena could think was that they were all going to die now. He had shown his face. He did not care who saw him, which meant he did not think anyone would be alive to make an ID.
Sara screamed, "Look down! Don't look at him."
Molly did as she was told, but Lena was too late. Smith reeled around, his heavy boots crunching glass. They made eye contact, and Lena thought she had never seen anyone so dead in her life. Smith ran toward the back of the room, gun raised. She tried to grab him but he shrugged her off like a blanket.
"Don't look at his face," Sara repeated, just as Smith slapped her hard enough to knock her over. Still, she told Molly, "Don't look at him. Close your eyes."
Smith kicked Sara's shin, cutting a gash. He demanded, "What are you doing?"
"She hasn't seen you!" Sara screamed back, scrambling to sit up. "Molly hasn't seen you! Close your eyes!" She reached out to Molly, touching her leg before Smith pushed them apart.
"She has two children," Sara said, panic making her voice shrill. "Two boys at home. Let her go. She hasn't seen you."
Molly sat where she had been since this all started. She held Jeffrey's hand in her own, her eyes tightly closed. She might have been praying.
"She hasn't seen you," Sara repeated, her voice shaking. "She hasn't seen you. Let her go."
Smith stared at them, his eyes moving back and forth, and Lena could see him struggling to think this through. He glanced over his shoulder at his partner, but did not invite his opinion.
Lena said, "You could let her go. Let her take Marla."
Smith seemed to consider this, too. "What about my arm?" he asked. He turned back to Molly, who still had her eyes closed. "You said you'd suture it."
"I need the lidocaine," she said. "I need…" She turned and looked at Lena oddly. "Give me thirty-three cc's of the two percent lidocaine." Her tone was sharp, her tongue carving each letter like a razor as she repeated herself, "Thirty-three cc's of two percent."
Sara's confusion came too quickly to hide. Lena saw her brow knit, but Smith obviously knew enough to say, "You trying to put me out?" He pushed her with the toe of his boot. "Huh?"
"No," Molly answered. Still keeping her eyes averted from Smith, she managed to glance at the clock on the wall, reminding Lena that they would come at 3:32. Lena gave a tight nod, letting her know she understood. Twenty minutes to go.
Smith pushed the shotgun into Molly's face, even jumpier now. "Get out of here," he said. "I don't trust you. Take the old lady, too."
Molly stood, Sara with her.
"What are you doing?" Smith asked.
"She's my friend," Sara told him, embracing the nurse. "Tell my family…" Sara began, but obviously could not finish.
Molly went to Marla and tried to help her stand, but the old woman was too afraid to do anything.
"It's okay," Lena told her, reaching under Marla's arm to assist her. Marla's hand brushed across her ass, and Lena was confused until she realized that Marla had tucked the pocketknife into her back pocket.
Lena hazarded a look at Smith, but he had not seen anything. Likewise, Sonny seemed unaware.
"All right," Smith said, indicating the door. "Move it." He waved his gun at Marla. "Come on, get going before I change my mind."
Molly kept her head down as she walked with Marla toward the front door. Lena could see her whole body was practically vibrating with fear, and she knew that Molly had realized that her back was a target until she was safely across the street.
Smith strolled after them, his gait still casual. He whispered something as he passed Lena that she was glad she could not hear. She kept her expression neutral, wondering how she could get the knife out of her pocket and drive it deep into Smith's heart.
"Psst," Brad said. She lifted her chin, letting him know she was listening.
"What did she mean?"
Lena kept her voice as low as she could. "Time."
Brad thought for a moment. "Three thirty-two?" he whispered, and she nodded. "On your signal."
"Get ready," Smith told his partner, and Sonny leaned over the counter, lining up his rifle for a shot. "Now!"
Lena saw what they were doing and lunged toward the front of the room, screaming, "No!" just as the gun went off.
She had been several feet away, and Smith had ample time to ward off her blow. He looked annoyed, and pushed her away like he had done before, like he was swatting a fly. Lena stood quickly, but not to challenge him. She looked out the front windows, seeing Molly kneeling over Marla. The old woman had been shot in the back. SWAT swarmed, giving them both cover as they were dragged to the cleaners.
"Marla," Lena said, still looking out the window. "They got Marla." She turned on Smith, her fists raised. "You fucking bastard!" she yelled, pounding into him. It was just like with Ethan – he was nothing but a wall of muscle.
"Whoa," Smith said, stepping back, taking her with him. He caught her hands easily, laughing at her anger. "You're a feisty one," he said, wrapping his hand around her ass and pulling Lena into him. "You like that, lady? You like that big cock?"
Lena clenched her jaw shut. "You killed her," she hissed, digging her fingernails into his arms. "You killed that old lady."
He put his lips close to her ear. "I might kill you, too, honey, but don't worry, we'll have a little fun first."
She jerked away, her hand catching on the bandage he had tied around his bicep. She threw the bloody cloth on the ground, then wiped her hands down her legs as if she could get the filth off herself. "You bastard," she said. "You murdering bastard."
He had his hand to his arm, and she could see the blood pooling through his fingers. "That's not good," he said.
Sonny put down his gun and took a bandana out of his pants pocket. He said, "Here," and Smith took the cloth.
"Wrap this around my arm," Smith ordered, holding it out to Lena.
"Fuck off," she said, and he gave her an open-palmed slap that sent her to the floor.
"Do it," he told her, handing her the bandana again.
Lena stood and took the cloth. His arm was bleeding profusely, though from what she could tell, the wound was not deep. Still, she tied a tourniquet around his upper arm, pulling it tight, wishing she was squeezing it around his neck.
"What are you looking at?" Smith asked Sara, pushing Lena away as he walked to the back of the room. Sonny had his gun raised again, and he gave Lena a look of warning before turning back to the door.
Smith repeated, "What are you looking at?"
"Nothing," Sara told him, kneeling by Jeffrey again. She put her hand to his face, and Lena saw he stirred, but did not wake. "He needs to be in a hospital."
"We're gonna take care of him right here," he said, using his foot to push over the case from the ambulance. He told Lena, "Grab that other shit."
She got the defibrillator and the IV kit, casting a look over her shoulder for Sonny's benefit. Brad had moved closer to the other man, but not enough to crowd him.