He banged on the door again. “Hello! We’re trapped in the storage room! Can you let us out?”
Zaira pounded against the door too. “Help!”
Amidst their pounding came the distinct squeal of the interior door at the end of the hallway.
“Do you think the robbers got trapped?” someone asked from the other side of the doorway.
“Hello!” Zaira shouted. “We’re not the robbers. But we got trapped down here last night!”
“Someone is in one of the rooms,” another person called.
“I don’t know how.” The second man’s voice was vaguely familiar. “I made sure the doors were all locked last night.”
Bellamy stiffened. It was the voice of the bank worker, Mr. Wright, who’d been in the hallway yesterday with the keys, who’d locked them in the storage room unintentionally and then told the robbers where to hide.
Although Bellamy had seen Mr. Wright on occasion when he’d come to the bank, the middle-aged fellow with a balding head, long nose, and solemn expression had never struck himas particularly dangerous. But if the man had been working with the robbers, then he was more menacing than anyone had suspected.
“I’ll go check if anyone is there,” Mr. Wright spoke again.
Beside him, Zaira knocked on the door. “We’re here—”
Bellamy cut her off, cupping his hand over her mouth and grabbing her arm to keep her from making any more noise. If Mr. Wright suspected they’d been present when he’d been plotting with the robbers, there was no telling what he might try. Maybe it was best if they didn’t let him find them and waited for someone else to come along.
Yet now that Mr. Wright had heard their voices, he probably wouldn’t stop searching until he located them and tried to decipher how much they’d overheard or witnessed regarding his role in the bank robbery.
The best thing to do was pretend they had no idea there had been a bank robbery. They could make up a story about how as a newly engaged couple, they’d wanted time alone, found the bank door open, and slipped inside but had been too enamored with each other to hear anything else.
Would Mr. Wright believe them?
Bellamy leaned into Zaira to whisper the plan but hesitated. With such a tale, the gossip would spread about him and Zaira again. Even without a lurid story, people would eventually find out he’d spent the night with Zaira in the bank storage room.
No one would ever believe the only thing they’d done was talk. Of course, they would be right because it wasn’t the only thing they’d done. They’d had the best kiss of all time. But most people would assume they’d shared more than kisses, especially because they were engaged.
The hallway door closed with a thud. Then footsteps tapped toward them. Only one set. Mr. Wright’s. That meant he would be alone and would be able to do whatever he wanted, make up whatever story he wanted, or eliminate them however he wanted.
Bellamy tensed. Maybe he should spring out as soon as the door opened and take the fellow by surprise. He could probably wrestle Mr. Wright to the ground, especially with as thin and wiry as he was.
On the other hand, Bellamy didn’t want to chance putting Zaira into any more danger than she already was. So until he could ascertain the level of peril, they needed to proceed with caution.
He leaned in toward her ear, could feel her lips and warm breath against the hand still covering her mouth. “We have to pretend we’re ignorant of hearing him with the robbers.”
“How?” she mumbled.
“Follow my lead.”
A key rattled in the lock. In the next instant, the door opened slowly, inch by inch.
Bellamy dropped his hand from Zaira’s mouth and instead wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her near. Then he brushed aside the loose hair from near her ear and bent in. “We have to act like lovers.”
“What?” she said louder than she should have. “No.”
“Aye. Trust me.” He pressed his lips to her bare neck, drawing a quick gasp from her.
The door opened even wider to reveal the dark hallway with only the faint light from the far window to illuminate anything. Even though Bellamy kissed Zaira’s neck one more time farther up and closer to her jaw, he glimpsed Mr.Wright’s profile. Was that a revolver he was holding and pointing at them? Mostly at Zaira?
Bellamy slid his hand to his waist and the knife underneath his coat. He pretended to be startled, jumping back and using the motion to unsheathe the weapon while still concealing it in the folds of his clothing. “No need to fear. ’Tis Bellamy McKenna the matchmaker and my betrothed.”
Mr. Wright swung the gun toward Bellamy.
