I looked up from the notepad. “You’re kidding.”
She held up three wrinkled ones and a crisp five. “That’s it. And the car is on E.”
I cursed. “I need another day to plan. And then a couple to scout the site and at least two escape routes.”
“We can’t afford that kind of time.”
I sighed and cursed again.
“We could hit a convenience store,” she said. “Get some quick cash.”
“If we do that, we can only risk one bank job before we head out of town for good.”
Shae shrugged. “One’s enough. We’ll drive east. I want to see Montana.”
I frowned. “I don’t know. We won’t get shit from a stop-and-rob, but the prison time’s the same. It’s a sucker job.”
“It’s not jes the money,” she said. “I’m bored.”
I put down my pencil. “I have a way to occupy your time.”
She smiled her special smile, a blend of shyness and lust, and stepped forward. I drew her to me and lost myself in her.
Afterward, out of breath and coated with sweat, she gave me a wet kiss on my neck just below the jaw. In my ear, she whispered hotly, “Let’s jes go with the flow, Laddie. We’ll hit the store.”
I couldn’t refuse her.
I woke up with a mouth full of cotton. After a few moments, I realized it wasn’t cotton. It was my tongue.
“Shae?” I rasped, my voice weak.
No answer.
I wanted to open my eyes, but it was too much of a struggle and I gave up. The room was quiet and a light antiseptic smell hung in the air. It reminded me of gauze pads at first and hospitals second, and then I was too tired to think about it anymore and crashed back into darkness.
“Birch and Maxwell,” I finally told her.
She shrugged, loading the magazine for her nine millimeter. “A store’s a store.”
“No,” I said, “it’s not. This one is on Birch, a main arterial one-way for northbound traffic only. Maxwell is a minor east/west arterial leading either deeper into the city or out Pettit Drive and to the T.J. Meenach Bridge. From the bridge, you can go north or south, but either way, you disappear.”
“Ye sound like a razzer.” Shae curled her lip.
“A what?”
“A feckin’ cop, Laddie. Why does it matter what store, anyhow?”
I suppressed a sigh. “It gives us options. And for every option we have, any cops responding have a decision to make. Unless they make the right decision every time, and quickly enough, they don’t stand a chance in catching us.”
She slipped the final round into the magazine and tapped it into the palm of her hand. “Ye got it all worked out, don’t ye now?”
“As best I can. It’s still a sucker job, though.”
She slid the magazine home and racked the slide. “Ye say the most romantic things.”
Once everything was decided, there was no slowing her down. We piled into the car and headed south toward the store. During the drive, I went over the plan twice more. Shae nodded her head absently and I wondered how much of it she really took in. Everything in her world was take ‘em as they come.
As we neared the store, I directed her to the empty parking lot behind the store once I was sure there were no security cameras.
“Last chance,” I said. “We can scrap this and-”
“Jes go with the flow, Laddie.” She leaned across the seat and kissed me, a hard wet kiss that made my head spin. “This’ll put us back in business and you can plan fer weeks on the fecking bank job.”
I shrugged. I couldn’t tell her no.
We exited the car and walked around the corner. A large woman waddled out the front door, herding a pair of kids every bit as fat as she was. Each kid cradled a cup of soda as big as his head.
I glanced through the windows. Two customers. One in line, one browsing the beer cooler.
“You get the beer cooler,” I told her. “I’ll get both at the counter.”
“I’ll get all the customers,” Shae said. “Ye jes worry about the clerk.”
“No. They’re too far apart. Just take the guy at the beer cooler.”
“Fine. Let’s go, though, before the whole fecking neighborhood decides to come fer a Slurpee.”
I slid the knit ski mask over my face and she did the same. I saw a flash of silver as she drew her nine. I jerked my.45 from my belt and we strode in like we were Bonnie and Clyde.
“Don’t fucking move!” I bellowed at the clerk and the customer at the counter. They stared at me in shock, but obeyed.
Shae bounded past me toward the cooler. “That’s means ye, too!” she shouted. The customer at the cooler wore a faded Seattle Seahawks jacket and matching ball cap. He’d slung a twelve pack of Keystone Light beer under his arm but froze at her voice and the sight of the Beretta. Then his jaw dropped in surprise and he raised his arms in the air. The twelve pack fell to the tiled floor with a thunk. One of the cans burst and thick foam oozed from the cardboard container.
“The register,” I told the clerk. “Clean it out.”
He nodded dumbly, but didn’t move.
“Now!” I barked at him, and he jumped.
“Easy,” the customer at the counter said. He held his palms out toward me, placating. His tie-dyed tee shirt and Rastafarian hair pissed me off. “Just take it easy.”
“Easy?” I stepped toward him and swung the pistol in an arc, cracking him in the temple. He yelped and collapsed to a knee. I delivered a second blow, catching him behind the ear, and he fell to the ground. Blood gushed from his head. “Is that fucking easy enough for you?”
“Lad-” Shae screamed, and then the shot rang out.
The bullet punched into my gut and tossed me backward a step. A great weakness washed over me and suddenly I couldn’t stand. I sank to my knees.
Another shot cracked. An angry sound whizzed past my ear. I turned my head toward the register. The clerk stood behind the counter, a small revolver in his wavering hand.
Son of a bitch shot me.
I should shoot him back.
I willed my right hand to come up. My grip on the.45 remained tight, but my arm hung uselessly at my side.
More shots, these from Shae. Cigarettes and candy leapt and danced around the clerk and he dropped behind the counter.
Then the pain hit and I howled.
She was there, lifting me, whispering to me, cajoling me, cursing me.
“Come on, Laddie, feckin’ walk. Don’t ye die on me. Ye can’t die. I won’t let ye.”
The ding of the entry door sounded and things went black for a second. When they cleared up, she was pushing me into the back seat. I looked down at the bright warm blood at my middle and clutched at it.
Shae drove. “Hold on, Laddie. Jes’ feckin’ hold on.”
The next time I woke up, I managed to force my eyes open.
Shae was there. She ran her fingers across my forehead. “Ye gave me quite a scare, Laddie.”
I rasped something unintelligible. She brought a paper cup of water to my lips and I swallowed.
“Better?”
I nodded and looked around. The room wasn’t a motel. It looked more like someone’s spare bedroom. “Where…?”
“Don’t ye worry about that none,” she chided softly. “I said I’d take care of ye, didn’t I? That I’d do anything to keep from losing ye?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “But where are we?”
“We’re safe,” she said. “We’ll stay here a while longer and then we’ll head up to yer cousin’s house.”
“Shae-”
She shushed me. “Sleep, baby.”
And I couldn’t refuse her.
I woke to a gunshot.
I sat upright and blinked. The sudden motion sent a searing pain through my gut and I grunted back a yell. Tenderly, I touched my stomach. Tape and bandages. I tried to swallow, but my throat remained dry.
I listened. Nothing. The light in the room was dim and I reached for a lamp, but winced as soon as I raised my arm. My skin was slick with sweat, but I felt cold.
“Shae?” I called, hesitant.
Did I hear a gunshot? Or did I dream it?