Rescue Me!. Elda Minger

road. Didn’t she have family to take care of her? A friend to drive with? The open road could be tough. Even dangerous. It wasn’t wise for a woman to travel alone, and she looked about as substantial as a cream puff.

      Aw, so he looked like hell. He could at least go in, get that cup of coffee and wish that cutie a fine morning.

      He smiled at that thought and reached for the door handle to the van. Cody was just about to step outside when a man, late twenties or very early thirties, dressed in ripped jeans, a black T-shirt and a jean jacket and boots, caught his eye. Long, stringy, dirty hair. Rounding the corner from behind the convenience store. He looked tired. Fed up.

      And he was carrying a sawed-off shotgun.

      JEN HAD JUST ADDED AN EXTRA packet of sugar to her coffee. Baby coffee, her friends in Chicago would have teased. She always liked to add a lot of milk, otherwise it tended to upset her stomach. She was sensitive to caffeine, so she knew that even with the small amount of coffee in the cup she’d get enough of a buzz to drive a little farther and find a room. Then finally she could crash.

      She knew she must be really wiped because she was starting to have doubts about the wisdom of this entire trip. When she’d started out from Chicago, she’d been so confident that she was doing the right thing. But it got awfully lonely out on the road, and she’d had plenty of time since leaving home to question what she was doing.

      She approached the counter, coffee in hand, eyeing the display of doughnuts nearby and wondering if she should go for broke and get one.

      “Oh, go for it.”

      She glanced up and smiled at the young man behind the counter. He had sandy brown hair, clear blue eyes and his face was sprinkled with freckles. Those eyes were amused as he gazed at her. He wore a faded gray sweatshirt and equally worn jeans.

      She recognized a fellow optimist when she saw one. Still, he did seem awfully young to be in charge of the store.

      “You’re the only one here?”

      He seemed affronted, but in a kidding way. “Hey, Charlie couldn’t make it, so he asked me to cover for him.”

      Well, that explained it. Jen couldn’t help smiling back at him. “How much are the dough—”

      The front door exploded inward, and a man with long, greasy black hair yelled, “Get down, both of you! On the floor!”

      And the nightmare began.

      CODY HAD WATCHED AS THE MAN entered the convenience store. If there had ever been a sign from God for him to stop drinking, this was it. More than anything he wished he had a clearer head.

      A girl with a gold bracelet and a kid behind a counter who looked as if he was barely out of high school—two people as good as dead unless he got in there and did something. He didn’t think scum like that would let either of them live, because then they’d be able to identify him.

      Weighing his options, trying to come up with a plan to get everyone out alive, Cody stealthily moved across the parking lot.

      “THE MONEY! HURRY UP!”

      The cashier’s voice was shaking so badly, he could barely get the words out. “I can’t open the register, I can’t just—”

      For one awful moment Jen thought the man was going to shoot the boy right where he stood.

      “Ring up a bogus sale, asshole, before I blow your head off!”

      Jen lay facedown on the floor. She’d dropped her coffee, flung it in a reflex reaction, and it had spilled all over the floor several feet away. She tried to breathe, tried to think, to remain calm. But it was so hard. Her heart was thundering in her chest; she could hear her blood pounding sickeningly in her ears. For a long, still moment, the longest moment, almost out of time, she had the strongest intuition she and this boy were going to die.

      Right here. Right now.

      Life over. Finished.

      “Whoa, wait a minute.”

      Everything within her stilled as the robber turned his attention toward her.

      “Sit up and take off that bracelet. And keep those hands where I can see them.”

      She sat up as slowly as she dared, hoping perhaps the young clerk could press a silent alarm button or something while he wasn’t being watched. But he didn’t have a chance. This man had done this sort of thing before, his dark eyes feverish as his glance darted back and forth between them.

      He was drunk or high or both. And that was bad for the two of them, making this man all the more unpredictable.

      “Take it off!”

      She did.

      “Throw it here.”

      The oddest memory, considering her circumstances, surfaced. Her high school graduation and her father handing her the small, beautifully wrapped package. The happiness on his handsome face when she’d opened his present and he’d seen her joy.

      She tossed the robber the bracelet carefully. She’d considered hurling it so he’d have trouble catching it, but she didn’t want to do anything to make matters even worse. This was real life, not some action movie.

      “Nice.” The robber studied it briefly, then shoved it in his jean-jacket pocket. “Now the sweater.”

      She felt nauseous as his meaning became clear.

      “Hurry it up!” He glanced toward the clerk. “Get that money out, asshole!” Then back at her. “The sweater, babe. Now!”

      Looking down the barrel of a loaded shotgun didn’t give her much of a choice or any sense of false modesty. Jen started to pull the pink cashmere sweater over her head. Slowly. Slowly. Thinking the entire time that she would rather die than have this man touch her.

      CODY HAD TO MAKE SURE THIS guy was alone. That took a few minutes, but he hadn’t heard any gunshots yet, so he still had hope.

      While he’d sneaked out in back of the convenience store, he’d formulated a plan.

      Help me out here, okay? he prayed silently. At least let the two of them live. If this is the way you want my sorry ass to go, I accept it. But those two in there, they don’t deserve it—

      Taking a deep breath, he kicked the front door open.

      SHE’D JUST PULLED THE SWEATER over her head, still had her hands entangled in its sleeves, when she heard the noise.

      Someone else—

      “Hey, you!” the slurred, masculine voice said. “Whadda I have ta do ta get a cuppa—” He stumbled into the robber, causing him to turn.

      Causing him to take the shotgun off her.

      A drunk. Great.

      Then the drunk moved so he was between her and the robber, then he turned, pretending to sneeze. His face angled so the robber couldn’t get a look at his expression, this crazy stranger gave her a look so full of fierce command, she almost shrank back. He inclined his head ever so slightly toward the counter, the movement miniscule.

      And Jen realized he was no drunk.

      The unspoken command in his eyes was unmistakable.

      Get behind that counter. Now.

      She did, crabbing back on her hands and knees, moving sideways over the slick linoleum floor, trying her best not to make any noise as the “drunk” continued to talk.

      “Okay, okay! Hands up, I get it!” The stranger backed away from the robber, and Jen noticed he was doing an excellent job of keeping the man’s shotgun pointed toward his midsection—away from her and the young clerk. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

      “Goddamn it, I said up! Up in the air, you bastard.”

      What happened next went down so fast, she didn’t see all of it.