Weaponless
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Where’s the other one?”
Jane heard the high-pitched male voice full of nerves and guessed him to be in his late teens or early twenties. A glance back up at the mirror confirmed her guess. He had dirty brown hair and unfocused eyes. The gun in his hand trembled. Maybe inexperience, maybe nerves, maybe something else.
The other two patrons lay face down, their hands behind their heads. He didn’t look at them, unconcerned while he stared at the clerk as if the poor kid had all the answers.
He waved his gun. “I said, where is she? And get over here.”
“Who?” The poor clerk held his hands high in the air, barely past the age of consent, and walked around the counter toward the gunman. “Please don’t shoot. I know the drill. Take anything you want. It’s yours.”
The man swore, trembled a little, then just as suddenly steadied the gun in his hands as he raised it to the clerk’s face. When he glanced toward the far aisle where she hid, she hurriedly backed out of sight before he could see her.
Or so she thought.
“Hey, you. Come here,” the robber ordered and flicked the safety off. “Or I’ll blow his brains out.”
Jane had no choice but to stall for time and keep everyone safe. Law enforcement had already been called, but who knew when they’d arrive.
“Coming out.” She rose, hands in the air, and stepped out. She had to see the robber’s eyes before being able to read him.
Her time in the Corps had taught her a lot about hand-to-hand combat, but not nearly as much as her time spent training with Team Ten. She knewexactlyhow to handle situations like these, though she’d only been in two like this before.
First rule, don’t give your opponent more of an upper hand than he already had.
She stepped closer, slowly, her hands up, and slouched to appear smaller.
Sweat beaded at the gunman’s temples. Though his gun hand looked steady, he wavered while staring at her. He looked and smelled like a drug addict, but the sudden clarity in his gaze didn’t fool her.
He had the look of a man intent on more than robbery. Onmurder.
“I’m the only other person here,” Jane said, trying to look and sound scared.
“Toss me your gun.”
She blinked. “I don’t have a gun.”
“Yeah right. Show me.” The robber took his aim from the clerk and centered his weapon on her. “Slowly.” His finger tightened over the trigger, ready to fire. “Your side piece too.”
At least he no longer aimed at the civilians.
She raised each pant leg to show him nothing but socks. “Is it okay if I open my jacket?”
“Slowly.” He didn’t sound nearly as frazzled, not like before. She was right. He’d been acting.
Jane slowly unzipped her coat and showed him she wasn’t carrying.
“Now the sweater.” He didn’t flinch or shiver, and his arm remained extended, the gun pointed at her. No jitters for the drug addicted mugger. She didn’t think she’d have time to wait for the police to save the day.
Not when this guy planned on shooting someone—likely her.
She raised her sweater to show her stomach.
“Now turn around so I can see you’re unarmed.”
Sounded like he’d done this before. She moved very slowly, her sweater and jacket up to show she had nothing tucked into the waistband of her jeans, all the while taking tiny steps in his direction. Closer. Just a little bit closer…
