Midnight Hero (5 page)

Scalding tears stung her eyelids and she blinked them into submission. He was right. She'd only be in his way. Clutching and whining would get him hurt. She had to be strong, for his sake. Bailey straightened her spine. Kissed him one last time,
with her heart beating so painfully in her throat it nearly choked her. “I'll see you soon. And no heroics. Promise me.”

He cupped her face and stroked his thumb over her lower lip. Her crazy mixed-up insides did a slow loop-de-loop. He smiled. “Men make promises, darlin'. Heroes keep them.”

Walking away from him was the hardest thing she'd ever done. Halfway to Syrone, she looked over her shoulder. Silent, graceful, Con loped up the stilled escalator to the second floor and glided alongside the balcony railing above her head. He offered a jaunty salute followed by a “get your butt moving” gesture before continuing.

“Syrone,” she whispered, creeping forward.

The guard turned and Bailey froze. He was big. African-American. Wearing a guard's uniform. But he wasn't Syrone.

“Who are—”

The behemoth scowled and strode toward her. “How did you escape?”

“Bailey!” Con's hoarse cry echoed from above. “Run!”

His urgent command mobilized her. Instinctively obeying, she did an about-face and sprinted down the mall.

“This way,” Con shouted, pivoting and running along the balcony parallel to her frantic flight.

Beneath him, she followed his fluid stride. He veered off and disappeared. Where was he going?

Panting, she risked a glance behind her. The guard was closing fast. For a big dude, he could move. Terror sank cold claws into the base of her neck. She poured on the speed, her pursuer's footsteps thudding behind her. Daily yoga kept her limber and toned, but not trained for a three-hundred-yard dash.

“Bailey, here!” She jerked her gaze up and saw Con leaning over the railing ahead, dangling a baseball bat. “Catch!”

Fleeing toward him, she caught the bat as it dropped. With the solid, heavy weight gripped in her hands, she ran on.

“Kneecap him, baby,” Con ordered. “I'm coming down.” He pivoted again and tore back toward the escalators.

She looked behind her. The guard was much nearer than she'd expected. Kneecap him? She glanced at the bat clutched in her
sweaty palms. Imagined the crack of wood against bone. Torn tendons. Bloody splinters. Incapacitating injury. Bile stung the back of her throat. She could not do that to another human being.

She increased her speed, so did he. She tried swerving side to side like a blitzed quarterback on Super Bowl Sunday. Didn't work. His coarse breathing rasped loudly in her ears. Too loud. She wasn't going to be able to outrun him.

Again, she looked back. The giant was too close. Almost close enough to grab her. In the distance, Con raced toward them, another bat gripped in his hand. Fast, but not fast enough. Harsh breaths rasped her throat, her heart slammed into her ribs.

Con wouldn't make it in time.

Saving her hide was up to her.

Her frantic gaze spun down the mall. If she ran into a store, the behemoth would have her cornered. Nowhere to hide. What to do?
Please, God, what should I do?

The answer flashed by in a blurry rainbow. One desperate chance. Stiff with fear, she lurched to a stop. Whirled. Hitched the bat over her shoulder and swung with all her might. Not at her pursuer—at the gumball machines lined up in colorful rows outside Toys Galore. Metal support poles clanged. Her hands stung. Glass shattered, smashed to the floor. Large, colorful jawbreakers exploded in every direction, bouncing across the faux marble.

Her pursuer treadmilled on the rolling projectiles. His feet flew out from beneath him. He grunted, swore and flopped down with a resounding crash as his skull banged against the floor.

He didn't move.

Holding her breath, she edged toward him.

“Stay back,” Con shouted. Skidding on jawbreakers, he managed to keep his footing and slid to a halt. He went to his knees beside the fallen guard and dropped his bat. “Hells bells, slugger. I said kneecap him.”

Her vocal cords didn't seem to want to work, and her lips were numb. “Is h-he d-dead? D-did I k-kill him?”

He shot a grin at her. “Nah. He's out cold.” He sobered. “Unfortunately, we don't know if this commotion carried to the other end of the mall. We might be having company shortly.”

“I'm s-sorry.”

“We'll handle it.” He patted the man down and tugged a two-way radio from beneath him, a smashed jumble of plastic and wires. “Well, that's useless. Bluto must have landed on it.” He continued the search. “No gun. Obviously, they wanted him to look like Syrone to passersby. They weren't expecting trouble.” He shook his head and swore softly. “No key card for the door, either. Probably planned on leaving with his buddies.”

“I c-couldn't hit him. I j-just couldn't.”

“You took him out, that's the most important thing. You did good.” He rose and embraced her in a quick, hard, comforting hug. “Get it together. There's no time to fall apart.”

She nodded. Sucked in a steadying breath. “What should I do?”

“Leaving an unarmed man at the door…these guys are arrogant, sure of success. We can turn it back on them.” He strode toward the toy store. Like many of the other stores, the security cage hadn't descended because of the power failure. “Hang on.”

He disappeared, and she glanced down the mall. They were a long way from the bank. Had the robbers heard the noise? Would she and Con soon have to face loaded Uzis? Anxiety gnawed her insides. Because she couldn't bring herself to injure a fellow human being, she might have put them in jeopardy. Traded their welfare for a criminal's. Endangering herself was one thing, but putting Con's life at risk…inexcusable.

She looked at the unconscious man. Confusion and slivers of hot shame splintered inside her. She felt horrible about knocking him out. Shaky, sweaty and like she might upchuck any second. Yet part of her regretted not following Con's orders and doing the deed quietly. Thus hurting the guy worse.

Had she just done the wrong thing, for all the right reasons?

How was a person supposed to know? How did Con deal with the moral dilemma? He disabled bad guys every day without his conscience making him queasy.

Con reappeared with jump ropes and bandanas in neon colors. “The landline phone is dead.” He shrugged. “No surprise. The robbers would have been stupid not to pop the phone lines along with all the other mall systems.” His calm, matter-of-fact
demeanor eased her ragged nerves a fraction. No matter what happened, no matter how badly she crumbled, he'd be there to pull her out of the pit. “Tie his ankles. Take his boots off, first. If by some strange phenomenon he escapes, stockinged feet will slow him down. I'll tie his hands and gag him.”

When the man was secure, Con hefted him over his shoulder. “Oof. This sucker eats his Wheaties.”

“What are you going to do with him?”

“Make him feel at home in a nice, quiet stall in the ladies' room. Go hide in the toy store until I'm done.”

“Actually, I kind of need to…um…when I get nervous…”

He chuckled. “Come with, then. Let's roll. We need to move.”

She accomplished her business while Con dealt with their nemesis in the large handicapped stall at the end of the room. He must have locked the stall from the inside, because his head appeared over the top of the partition, and then he jumped down.

Con eased the restroom door open. “No sign of company. We might have lucked out.” Outside, he used a tool on his Swiss Army Knife to trip the bolt. Then he pulled a small tube from his pocket. “Superglue from the toy store. It'll freeze the tumblers. The robbers will have to break down the door to spring him.”

They returned to Toys Galore. He strode inside, unhooked two backpacks and tossed one to her. “Grab anything useful.”

Bailey found four flashlights and inserted batteries. She set two on the counter to illuminate the store, tucked one into her pack and handed the other to Con. She lifted two more jump ropes off a rack, and picked up a plastic egg filled with Silly Putty.

He arched a brow. “Silly Putty?”

“You never know. It could come in handy.”

“If you say so.” Con palmed a black plastic squirt gun and whistled. “Looks real. Too real. Some kid got shot last year in the third precinct waving one of these puppies around. It might work. As long as nobody calls my bluff.”

The thought of him facing loaded Uzis with an empty toy pistol increased her nausea. She picked up a package of markers. Stared at the picture of innocent, smiling children on the box before stuffing it in her pack.
Pictures.
“Acetic acid!”

“Did you call me a pathetic ass? An empty squirt gun isn't too impressive, but we have to work with what we've got, darlin'.”

She laughed. “Acetic acid. A chemical used in the stop bath during photo developing. One Hour Photo would have some. It's a powerful skin irritant, and if shot into someone's eyes, would sure slow them down.”

“Have I mentioned lately how much I admire your brilliant brain? You're a better soldier than you think.” He handed her two toy guns. “We'll each take two. We'll fill 'em when we're done.”

They continued loading items into their packs. Bailey picked up a small notebook and retractable pen from a cartoon stationery display, and began to make meticulous notes.

He peeked over her shoulder, his face inches from hers. Supercharged energy radiated from his muscled body. His warm lips brushed her cheek in a soft kiss and her nerve endings quivered. “Gonna write a book about our adventures later? How I Spent A Boring New Year's Eve at the Mall.”

“Ha, ha, funny man. I'm logging what we take and how much it costs. The toy store shouldn't lose money, just because—”
Money.
She went rigid. The blood drained from her head leaving her dizzy.

“Hey.” He turned her to face him. “What's wrong? You just went lily-white, sweetheart.”

“The money. From the bookstore,” she whispered. “When you tackled me outside the bank, I was carrying the deposit bag. I left it there. The store's name and account number are stamped on the front. If the robbers see it lying in front of the doorway, they'll know someone was out there and saw them. They'll know someone else is in the mall.”

He frowned. “Low odds, but I don't like it. I need to circle back and do a thorough recon anyway. I'll retrieve it.”

She grabbed his sleeve, clung. “No!”

He sighed. “Since we're in this for the long haul, let's get something straight.” He grasped her forearms in a gentle but ironclad grip. His gaze held hers, steady and implacable. “I am in charge of this operation. The objective is to go home with the same amount of holes in our body that we came with. And to get our friends out of that bank alive. Understand?”

“Y-yes.” She'd never seen this side of him before. Hard. Serious. All business. All cop. This Con was intimidating. Centering. And in an odd, unexpected twist, exciting. She'd always been attracted to his easygoing charm. Aroused by his sexy humor. Yet, this dangerous side of him turned her on. A lot. What was the matter with her? Had terror sent her round the bend? Was she stark-raving nuts? She was a pacifist, for heaven's sake.

“You cannot question every detail or balk at decisions. You do what I say, when I say. Otherwise, someone could die. Got it?”

Mr. Large-and-In-Charge had a point. She already had two potentially deadly mistakes on her account. Which didn't mean his drill-sergeant attitude rankled any less. She wasn't a complete moron. After all, she'd taken out a bad guy
and
given Con an idea for an effective weapon. Bailey Chambers could carry her weight. Straightening, she snapped off a crisp salute. “Aye, aye, sir.”

“This isn't the navy. Make that, ‘Yes, sir, Officer O'Rourke.'”

She stared into the twin lasers of his lethal brown gaze. Was he joking or serious? “Kiss my what? Officer O'Rourke.
Sir.
”

His sensual lips twitched. Then he burst into laughter. “Baby, I'll kiss any thing you want. Any time. Any where.”

Whoo.
“I appreciate the offer.” Was it normal to indulge in a brief erotic fantasy in the middle of a life-or-death situation? For her pulse to throb, her skin heat, awareness tingle over her? She
was
going insane.

As if he'd read her naughty thoughts, his eyes grew dark and smoky. “It's not an offer, it's a promise. But if it makes you feel better, you can tally it in your notebook.”

A guilty flush stole up her neck. What would he say if he knew over the past six months, she'd compiled a mental roster of intimate activities she'd like to indulge in with him?

“You're not pale now.” He trailed a finger down her cheek. Studied her. Grinned with sudden enlightenment. “I'll be damned. You and your lists. I'd love to get an eyes-on assessment of that one, darlin'. How much am I into you for?”

Busted by Officer Sexy. Her flush burned hotter. “About twenty items.”

Amusement and desire glittered in his dark eyes, danced around his mouth. “I'll pay up in full.”

They had to live through the night first. Jolted to reality, she swallowed hard. “Let's table this discussion until later.”

“Count on it.” He sobered. “Enjoyable as this is, I've got a recon to perform.”

“Right. What do you want me to do?”

He glanced around. “Most hunted animals, including humans, go to ground. If anyone comes looking, they'll search low.” He pointed. “Up there.”

A trampoline hung suspended from the ceiling. He lifted her onto the counter and levered up beside her. His cupped hands boosted her onto the trampoline's taut surface, and then he jumped to the floor. He extinguished the flashlights. “If you don't move, I can't see you at all in the dark. Stay put. Don't budge. Don't make a sound until I return and you know for sure it's me.”