Preston.
My body begins to quake.
“I said, put the fucking cash in the bag!” he snarls, shoving the gun closer. I flinch, mind hardly processing.
“I…there isn’t any,” I stammer. The fear in my voice is evident—there’s no way to hide it. “We’re not open yet.”
Screams ring in my ears. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it only makes the visions of the shooting worse.
Not again. Please not again.
“Don’t fucking lie to me, bitch. Empty the goddamn till.”
“There isn’t money in there.”
Rosie’s voice comes out of nowhere. I hadn’t heard her leave her office.
My heart lurches.
No.
The gun swings toward her and she raises her hands slowly. “We don’t open for another hour. There’s no cash—it’s already been taken to the bank.”
Time stretches between the three of us, the gun swinging between us as he decides if we’re lying.
He cocks the gun at Rosie. “Open the fucking safe then.”
“There is no safe,” Rosie replies calmly. It’s too calm. Rosie was at the barbecue that day—she was almost shot. Yet she doesn’t show an ounce of fear.
Not like I am.
“Look, like I said—we seriously don’t have cash. It’s the era of credit cards, my guy. Also, cops are on their way.”
The man steps closer to her.
A broken sound presses past my lips. My hand lifts uselessly, as if I’m going to reach out and stop him.
“Take another fucking step toward my wife and I’ll blow your goddamn brains out,” Cain’s voice booms from the top of the stairs.
I should feel relief, but Cain’s presence does the opposite, and the man with the gun becomes instantly more agitated.
The barrel jerks toward Cain’s direction.
He laughs, clipped and sardonic, unbothered as he starts down the stairs. Slowly, he reaches behind his back and draws his own gun.
Cain raises it, hands steady. His jaw locks and his focus narrows on the man standing far too close to his wife.
“I’m giving you ten seconds to get the hell out of my bar,” he tells him calmly, his eyes darkening. “Ten.”
Cain takes another step, posture lethal.
My eyes meet Rosie’s. I swallow hard, trying not to break down in tears.
“Nine.”
Cain reaches the bottom.
Realizing he’s in a losing battle, the man curses, his words sharp and frantic, before he turns and bolts out the door.
