“I’m not sure. Maybe twelve by twelve? Something like that?”
“I’m pretty sure we’ll be okay.” People used up more oxygen if they panicked and hyperventilated, so the best thing he could think of to do was keep her calm. “If worse comes to worst, we can always share some oxygen, like underwater divers.” Did he really say that?
She was quiet.
“I was kidding,” Gabe said.What a dumb joke. Get your head out of the gutter, Fierro.
“Oh.” She sounded somewhat disappointed.
He stroked her back and said softly, “I’m sure the fire department must be here by now. Relax. Firefighters can get into anything.”Including a lot of trouble.
“I hope you’re right.” After another long silence, she said, “I doubt we’d hear gunshots through this door.”
“Shit. Don’t even think that way. Your coworkers were cooperating, and the gunmen probably decided to leave before getting caught.”
“Linda is pregnant. Again. She has three little kids at home. Betsy is a mom of two. I can’t help worrying about them.”
Maybe talking about her coworkers would distract Misty from their predicament, but it would use up more oxygen too. Now Gabe had to decide whether he believed his own words.
“Worrying won’t help your coworkers. It will just get you worked up. You need to stay calm.”
“Don’t you worry about your fellow firefighters?”
He thought about that for a moment. They were all well trained to handle themselves in any emergency. Usually, he was too focused on the fire or whatever situation required his full attention. But yeah, there were times when somebody was in danger and he worried, especially if he couldn’t help…or it was one of his brothers.
“I guess so.”
Gabe wanted to lean over and kiss the top of her head, but that might open the door to a precedent he didn’t want to deal with later. If she expected more, he could probably blame it on the moment, but he didn’t want to mess with her head…or his.
* * *
Baldy was pacing back and forth, waving his gun. “Now what, Mr. Manager?”
Adam shrugged. “Once the safe is closed and it locks, it won’t open again for eight hours.”
The antsy bank robber stopped pacing in front of him and placed the barrel of his gun against Adam’s forehead. “There has to be an override code or something.”
Adam was shaking so badly inside, he thought his knees would turn to jelly and he might fall or faint. “Th-there’s some kind of emergency code, but only the bank president has it. He’s on a cruise right now.”
“Can you call him?”
“He goes on cruises specifically because there’s no internet or phone. Even if I could get ahold of him, he’d probably realize something was wrong and call the cops.”
The “boss” stomped his foot.
“Well, we tried,” the heavyset one mumbled.
The bald guy’s jaw was clenched, and his face was growing redder. At last, he looked at the ceiling, threw his arms in the air, and yelled, “Fuck!”
Everyone stared at him silently for a few moments.
“Uh, boss?”
“What?” he shouted.
“I think we should probably go.” He nodded toward the front door where a customer was pulling on it frantically, then leaning against the glass, cupping the area around his eyes, and trying to see in.
The smaller guy slumped. “Christ. I’m not leaving with nothing. Everyone empty your pockets into this backpack.” He tossed the flat bag at the manager.
