Riley blinked and realized Bella Goodshine was peering down at her. Her nose twitched again.
“No, thanks,” she said.
Do what she had no desire to do.She stared at the cameras trained on Hudson and the news desk and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.
A knock at the studio doors startled her.
“Who is it?” Hudson called pleasantly.
“I am Gabe. I have been entrusted with your food.”
Riley covered her eyes for a moment and then opened them. Nope. She was not asleep, having a terrible nightmare. She was wide awake, living one.
“Gabe, I’m going to need you to strip down out there so I can make sure you’re not carrying a gun.”
“What about the wire I am wearing?”
Riley could hear the internal screams from about a dozen cops.
“An honest delivery guy. This is a treat,” Hudson crowed. “You can keep the wire on. But no weapons.”
“I understand.”
A minute later Hudson peeked through the door and then opened it the whole way.
“Run!” Chris yelled and sprinted for the emergency exit. Sprinted was a kind description for the disjointed shuffle of limbs he displayed.
A gunshot rang out, and Chris crumpled to the ground.
Frightened screams erupted from the rest of the hostages.
“Ow! That hurt!” Chris screeched.
“Relax. I shot you in your foot, not your windpipe.” But Hudson’s hand was shaking when he pointed the gun around the room. “Anyone else want to run? I’ve got ten years of experience with first-person cowboy video games. I can hit a spittoon at twenty paces!”
Everyone shook their heads.
“Good. Now get in here, food guy,” he said, gesturing toward the door with the gun.
Riley closed her eyes as the lovable Gabe stepped into the studio carrying several bags of to-go food. He was wearing nothing but black briefs and a police wire taped to his chest.
“Oh, my,” Valerie fanned herself. “I know we’re about to die, but thank you, Jesus, for your bounty.”
“Everybody line up one at a time and get your food,” Hudson said.
Riley got in line behind Floyd the sound engineer.
“Excuse me! Can someone bring me my lobster salad?” Griffin called from his chair.
“I said no onions on my sandwich,” Chelsea complained. “I’m not paying for this.”
Hudson rolled his eyes. “No one is paying for this because I’m blowing you all up in a few minutes. Eat the goddamn onions.”
“Here is your sparklepupuplatter,” Gabe said, handing Riley a paper carton. “Yourchopsticksare inside.”
Riley blinked. Gabe had just sparkle poo-ed her. She suddenly had a good idea just who was stuck in an air vent.
“Thank you,” she said and took the carton behind the cameras.
