Unbreakable (7 page)

“But…Georgia? She didn’t feel the same?” I heard the words leave my mouth and wished I could catch them back. “I’m sorry. That’s extremely forward of me and none of my business.”

“I brought it up.” Cory smiled though it was strained. “So to answer your question, no, Georgia did not see it that way. She’s not a fan of my chosen line of work.”

“What’s wrong with…construction, wasn’t it? A journeyman.”

“Yeah, construction. There’s nothing wrong with it, as far I’m concerned. It’s what I like doing. What I’m good at. But Georgia’s always telling me I’m too smart for it. As if there’s nothing more to it than hammering nails into two-by-fours all day. She wanted me to go to college, get a ‘real’ job, but I think that’s bullshit. Construction is my family business, and there was a time when we were doing okay. Georgia still wasn’t happy.”

A pained expression came over his features but I didn’t think it was because of the gash on his head.

“Anyway, it’s money,” he continued. “For Georgia, it comes down to money. As in, I don’t make enough for her to feel okay about being legally bound to me.”

The back of my leg cramped slightly and I shifted against the wall. Cory noticed and evidently thought I was uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” he said. “Now I’m getting too personal.”

“No, it’s fine—”

“You’re lucky. You don’t have that problem.”

I frowned. “What problem?”

“You don’t have to worry about money.” He saw my affronted expression. “What? It’s not a judgment call—”

“No? Sure sounds like it. I have to work my ass off for what I have, and so does Drew.”

Cory held up his hands and said mildly, “I’m not saying you don’t. But—”

“If you’re trying to imply I don’t have pressure—”

“I’m not implying anything,” he said thinly. “But lots of people
work their ass off
and it doesn’t take the pressure off. There’s always more, like a huge sack of rocks, and you have to keep carrying it no matter what. No matter if you’re tired or sick or your fucking truck breaks down…” He dabbed the cloth to his brow. “Jesus, listen to me. I must’ve been hit harder than I thought. I’m sorry. I’m just tired. Sometimes I just get… tired.”

I studied at him. The worry lines between his eyes that had been there before the robbery began had reappeared. Whatever ire I had felt over his comments faded—I realized I had been ridiculously defensive anyway. And I had to remind myself Cory was, for all intents and purposes, a man I’d met only earlier today, even if it felt like I’d known him for years.

It’s just the stress of this situation. It’s forcing us all to bond together. For survival.

“Hey.” I nudged his arm. “Tell me about Callie. You said she’s seven? In…second grade?”

“Yeah.”

“Does she like school?”

“She does. She’s good at it. She likes to write stories.”

He laughed lightly, his whole body relaxing, his face morphing back into the ‘breathtaking’ range of beauty as he spoke of his daughter.

“She wrote this one story about a kid, a superhero, who flies around giving food to homeless people. That’s her whole superpower. Feeding the homeless.”

“She’s got a big heart,” I said.

“Yeah, she does,” he said. “What about you? You and your fiancé going to have kids?”

I shifted again. I told myself it was just the hard floor. “Uh, no. We’re not. We’ve decided we’re too busy with our jobs. It wouldn’t be fair. To the child.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“Yes,
really.
Pardon me for offending.”

“No, I just…” He made an inscrutable face. “Nothing.”

“Are you one of those, ‘you aren’t a complete woman unless you have kids’-type of people?”

“No, not at all.” Cory turned so that he was facing me head-on. “Kids or no kids, that doesn’t make a woman any less a woman. Doesn’t make her less of
anything
.” He shifted, his head cocked to the side as if he were studying me. “But you…It surprised me, is all. I had you pegged for a mom. Someday.” That crooked smile of his returned. “I’d make a terrible jury-picker, wouldn’t I?”

No, you’d do just fine.
I sighed. “I’m sorry I got pissy with you.”

“You sure like to argue, don’t you?”

A retort came to mind but I laughed instead. “It’s in my job description. If I still have a job when I get out of here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember how I said the jury was in deliberations for a very important case? My most important case?”

He nodded.

“Well, they’re not sequestered. No doubt they’ve heard about my situation by now and if the defense attorney is any good—which I know he is—he’s going to ask the judge to declare a mistrial. He’ll argue that the jury might be overly sympathetic to me. Enough to sway their decision.”

“You think the other side would do that?”

“It’s what I’d do.”

“So, if you lose this case or it’s a mistrial or whatever, you’ll lose your job?”

I sighed. “Not really. It’ll just set me back. I’m hoping to be made partner at the firm I work for, and winning this trial would be my ace in the hole.”

Cory furrowed his brow. “Oh.”

“I mean, I’d have to start all over, practically from scratch,” I said quickly. “It would be a ton of work and I’d have to push back other potential suits and…”
And why am I justifying myself to him?
“Anyway, it’d be a lot of extra work.”

He nodded. The worry line was back.

“What about you?” I asked. “Is your boss going to give you a hard time for missing work? You’ve got a fool-proof alibi if he does.” I offered a smile he didn’t return.

“Yeah, and a new scar to prove it,” he said grimly. “No, it’ll be business as usual for the contractor I work for. It’s like pulling teeth to get him to pay me and when he does, it’s usually for a lot fewer hours than I actually worked.”

He sighed and toyed with the bloody rag in his hand.

“No, the real question is going to be with my landlord. He only takes rent in cash or cashier’s checks. Been burned before by bad tenants. That’s why I was at this bank. My boss waited until the last damn minute to pay me, so I had to try to cash the check right away to pay the rent. But thanks to being stuck in here, I’m going to miss the payment. I’m pretty sure I’ll have been evicted from my apartment by the time we get out of here.”

“Would he do that, your landlord? Even knowing the situation?” I asked, appalled.

“Oh yeah. He’s that type of guy. But that’s not the worst of it.”

“It’s
not
?”

He glanced at me sideways, as if deciding how much to tell me. Then he blew air out his cheeks and said, “Georgia wants to move to Sitka.”

“Sitka…Alaska?”

“That’s the one. If I don’t have a good enough residence for Callie when she visits me, the judge who handles all of our custody stuff will probably let Georgia move there. She’s got an aunt in Sitka, so she can plead extra help raising Callie.”

“I take it you don’t want to go.”

“It’s the last thing I want to do. No sun, no beach. Moreover, there’s no construction work there. Not like in L.A.” He dabbed his brow again, winced. “I work some nights as a bouncer for extra cash. I suppose I’d do that if I had to but it’s not much of a career.”

“So…if Georgia moves there, you will too?”

“Of course. For Callie.” He smiled ruefully. “So yeah, the monster squad couldn’t have picked a worse day to carry out their little heist. Or I picked the wrong bank.”

I sat for a moment, absorbing his story, feeling it seep into my gut. “Oh my god, you must think I’m terrible.”

He glanced up quickly. “What? Why?”

“You must think I’m a spoiled, selfish bitch.”

“I don’t think you’re spoiled—”

“No?” My hands twisted in my lap. The ridiculous diamond scratched my palm. I wanted to throw it across the room. “Here I am, whining about my trial…”

“Hey,” he said gently. “We all have our stuff, right?”

I looked up at him and for a few moments, the meeting room and the other hostages fell away. Neither ugly fluorescent lighting nor the gash over his eye could mar his beauty and or the softness with which he looked at me.

“I wish…” I began and had to swallow before continuing, “I wish I could help you in some way.”

He smiled that crooked, charming smile. “You already are.”

God, what did that mean? He was so close, I could see the tiny lines on his full lips and I wondered what it might feel like to touch those lips, to feel them sweep over mine and forget about this horrible, terrifying situation for a few stolen moments…

Roy snorted in his sleep and we jerked apart.

I tore my eyes from his and glanced around. Roy was slumped over his own chest, snoring noisily. The others were also asleep or close to it, despite the persistent glare of the lights.

“I think I need to sleep a bit too,” I said. “I can’t keep my eyes open.”
Or keep from having inappropriate thoughts about you.
I needed to sleep to escape Cory, from the relentless, tantalizing presence of him. I needed to put some distance between us, the only way I could in this bank. Then I remembered what Carol had said about his wound. If he had a concussion, sleeping could be dangerous for him.

“You need to stay awake,” I told him. “Dr. Carol’s orders. Wake me in an hour or so and we’ll trade off. Deal?”

“I feel fine.”
I snorted. “And you say
I
like to argue.”

He laughed lightly. “All right. It’s a deal.” He indicated for me to rest my head on his shoulder if I wanted. “Be my guest.”

I hesitated. This wasn’t the distance I needed, but I heard myself whisper, “Thank you,” and I rested my cheek against the rough cotton of his jacket. And despite the danger, the frightening circumstances, I was asleep within moments.

Cory

Time crawled without a clock to count the minutes or a window to show the night turning to day. There was nothing to do but listen.

Faintly, I could hear the
whup whup
of a helicopter circling the bank. Closer, I heard the muffled footsteps of the monster squad marching around the halls, heard their low voices, sometimes shouts or cursing. A phone rang constantly. Even closer, the gentle snores of my fellow hostages. Closer than that, Alex’s breathing, like little sighs, as she lay against my shoulder. I’d rather listen to her breathe than sleep.

For the millionth time that night, I fought the urge to put my arm around her and let her rest against my chest. Bad idea. I was already having a hard enough time keeping my thoughts in check. No need to torture my body too.

But god, she was beautiful. Her hair was a red color I’d never seen, not naturally anyway. A deep red with threads of gold. If it came out of a bottle—and I’d stake my life it didn’t—then it was a pro job. I wanted to see what it looked like under the summer sun instead of these ugly fluorescents. I wanted to pull it loose from the damn pins or whatever she used to keep it tightly coiled to her head. I wanted to run my fingers through it, grip it, and tilt her face to mine so that I could watch that mouth of hers part for me as I kissed her in a way I bet her stuffy fiancé couldn’t.

My groin tightened and I killed those kinds of thoughts immediately. Stupid. Stupid and futile.

I sighed.

It was crazy how fast it happened. The physical attraction took all of three seconds. That was easy to explain. But how she had become so important to me, so quickly, I had no fucking clue. But right now, locked away from everyone I loved, she was all I had. And I was all she had. At least in here. What happened after was after. We’d get out of this and life would go back to normal. She’d go her way and I’d go mine. The thought brought a tinge of pain deep in my chest but I brushed it aside. It was inevitable, and I knew well enough by now not to waste time whining over what I couldn’t change.

Alex stirred against me, and I watched her awaken. She blinked against the harsh lights, and stretched her neck, wincing slightly. I said nothing, just watched her, and my suddenly overactive imagination wondered what it would be like waking up next to her in a bed instead of this goddamned bank.

She jerked fully awake, struggling to get her bearings. I watched her exquisite face morph from confusion, to fear, then panic, as if she’d lost something. She whipped her head toward me, and a ghost of a relieved smile touched her lips as she found me, and my stupid heart beat madly for it.

“I thought it was all a bad dream,” she murmured. “But for you…” She must’ve realized what she’d said. She made a face and swatted my arm. “You were supposed to wake me.”

“Was I?”

“We had a deal.”

“You looked like you needed the rest.”

“And you could have slipped into a coma or something. Or worse.”

“The cut’s not that bad. I didn’t sleep anyway.” I couldn’t help but grin at the scowl on her face. “But thanks for the concern.”

She scoffed, and I thought she might give me hell, but she smiled instead. Gorgeous. Not a bad start to the day, I thought, given the circumstances.

But damn, the day passed with agonizing slowness. No one said much. No food was given. Everyone was starting to show the wear of the ordeal. Their faces were lined with fear, drawn from hunger. The water the monster squad gave us was enough to keep us alive and hardly more. There was a notepad in the desk drawer and Roy had a pen in his shirt pocket. We played hangman or wrote notes to loved ones. Carol, Gil, and Roy played Twenty Questions. Alex stretched, touching her forehead to her knees as she gripped her feet. Some kind of yoga thing. It was all her business skirt and jacket would allow her to do. Thank God.

As the day drew to a close and night came on—such as we could tell—Sylvie began to cry. “How much longer is this going to go on?”

“Good question,” Ray said, his bluster watered down now. “Why aren’t the cops doing anything? Why aren’t they storming the place or paying to get us out?”

“Because paying for us would set a bad precedent,” Gil the pharmacist said. “You know? Not negotiating with terrorists?”

Roy snorted. “So they’re just going to let us starve? Or wait until they shoot us all?”

“Calm down,” I said. “Trying to figure out what they will or won’t do isn’t going to help.”

“Oh pardon me, but you’ve found something better to do than wonder if you’re going to get out of here alive? I got kids, you know? A wife. A job.”

“I’d hazard a guess that every person here has jobs, kids, and spouses,” Carol snapped.

“I have two little girls,” Sylvie said. She smiled through tears. “I can’t stop thinking about them. If I’m going to see them again.”

Tanya scooted closer to the dark-haired woman and put her arm around her. “You will. And I’m going to see my son again.” She forced a smile. “He’s seventeen. Probably been playing video games until he’s half-blind by now.”

The others talked about their families, their children, or spouses. I talked about my ailing father who was in a group home, and even about Callie a little bit. I hadn’t meant to, but realized I needed to. I felt so far away from her, talking about her was the only thing I could do to keep her close.

I noticed Alex stayed mostly silent. She mentioned her parents, and said she hoped they weren’t too overcome with worry, her dad in particular. But of her fiancé, Drew, she didn’t say a word.

Fast food arrived at what we assumed was dinnertime, but though she hadn’t eaten anything in almost twenty-four hours, Alex only picked at her share of the greasy burgers and fries. Mostly she sat with her hands in her lap, twisting a gigantic engagement ring around and around before slipping it into her jacket pocket.

“You’re not eating,” I said.

“That’s not really food.”

“It’s close enough.” I tried for a smile. Nothing. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head.

“Thinking about Drew?” Not that I wanted to know, but she looked upset and if she wanted to talk about it—or him—the least I could do was be there for her.

She glanced up at me sharply. “What? Uh, yeah…Yes. I am. He’s probably worried sick.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring manner, supportive, and so was alarmed to see her eyes fill with tears.
How can you be surprised?
I told myself.
She’s away from him and surrounded by danger.
I wanted to put my arm around her but thought that would be a pretty dick move if she were crying about another man. But she swiped the tears away before they could fall and huffed a breath.

“I never cry,” she said. “Never.”

“It’s understandable…”

“
No
,” she insisted. “It’s not a good reason, why I…I mean, I’m not crying because I’m scared or missing my friends or family, even though I feel both. I miss my parents, of course. My dad especially. I know he’s more worried than anyone. My mother is probably cool as can be, assuming everything will work out because she demands it to.” She gave a short, rueful laugh. “Life bends to Marilyn Gardener’s will. The monster squad will soon get the memo, I’m sure.”

I smiled, but said nothing. Just let her talk.

“My friends…” She shook her head. “We call ourselves the Posse. I don’t know who said it first. Probably Lilah. Of all of us, she’s the most likely to compare a bunch of women having expensive lunches to a gang of cowboys, and of course, the others didn’t get the irony. They just thought it was cute.

“Anyway, Antoinette’s our unofficial leader, of sorts. A queen bee. She’s probably jealous that something so extraordinary like this has happened to someone else. Unless I die in here and then she’ll wail the loudest at my funeral. That sounds like a horrible thing to say about a friend, but it’s true.”

I didn’t hear much after she mentioned her funeral. A mental image of a white casket topped with a burst of red flowers came to mind and I shivered. “Jesus, don’t say that. No one’s having a funeral.”

She smiled sadly, like a thank you, and said, “My friend Minnie is probably crying real tears of worry and condemning the barbarity of the city. Maybe writing a strongly worded letter to the mayor, while Rashida’s looking at it through her prism of pragmatism.
When
we get out of here, she’ll tell me to be thankful for surviving and not dwell on the unpleasantness.

“And Lilah…” She inhaled a tremulous breath. “My best friend. I miss her. And…”

And Drew.
I waited for her to say his name next, to talk about how she missed him and loved him, that he was the reason she’d been crying. I braced myself. Instead, she gave me a half-smile and picked at a French fry. Just like that, conversation over.

Nothing happened for the rest of the evening, just small talk and few rounds of HangMan in which I tried to get Alex to laugh with “Frankie is a smelly little dickweed.”

And she did laugh until we both realized how dangerous it was if that smelly little dickweed saw the paper. Then her smile vanished for the rest of the night. I tore the paper to tiny shreds and added it to the fast food trash. I wished that the police would just storm the bank already, or that the monster squad would realize how backed against a wall they were and surrender.

After some unknown stretch of time, the others curled up on the floor to sleep. Roy’s head lolled on his chest. Tanya and Sylvie were together, the older woman comforting the younger. To my left, Carol snored gently, Amita curled up beside her. Beside them, Gil was sleeping with his head on his knees.

“You want to try to get some sleep too?” I tapped my left shoulder. “Be my guest.”

Alex nodded and laid her head on my shoulder. “What about you? Aren’t you tired?”

“Nah, I’m good,” I said, relishing the weight of her against me.

“Yes,” Alex said sleepily, nestling closer. “Yes, you are.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” she said, fading. “But it’s true anyway. A good man.”

I treasured the words but wanted to tell her they weren’t true. If I were a good man, would I spend my time thinking thoughts about her I had no business thinking? I wanted to touch her and kiss her and put my hands on her body, even here, of all places. I hated her fiancé for simply existing. And worst of all, part of me wanted to stay in the bank, surrounded by death and danger, if it meant I could keep seeing her, keep talking to her.

Nothing good about that.