Fugitive at Large. Sandra Robbins

in progress without anyone getting hurt? Shoot first and hope for the best, or try to talk the guy into surrendering his weapon? Whatever she decided, she had to act before somebody got shot or, worse, killed. It was time to make a move.

      So much for staying hidden at the end of the aisle. She took a tentative step toward the front of the store. She knew the layout as well as she did that of her own apartment. The potato-chip display at the end of the aisle wasn’t going to offer much protection from a bullet once she stepped into view. Better to surprise the thief before he had the chance to take a shot at her.

      She gripped the gun with both hands and tiptoed farther forward, conscious of being absolutely silent. At the end of the aisle, she took a deep breath and peered toward the cash register about fifteen feet away. Behind the counter the pale clerk kept his eyes on the robber as he pulled bills from the cash register and stuffed them in a bag he held. The robber kept the gun trained on the young man as he reached up and pulled the ball cap he wore lower on his forehead.

      A customer, possibly a college student from the campus nearby, stood in front of the counter with his hands raised. His fingers trembled. Scared out of his wits, no doubt. The hammering of her heart told her he wasn’t the only one frightened.

      The clerk swallowed hard and pushed the bag across the counter toward the gunman. “That’s it unless you want the coins, too.”

      The robber shook his head. “No. That’ll do just fine.” He raised the gun and pointed it toward the clerk, who raised his hands and backed away.

      “Leave him alone,” the young customer said. “He did what you asked him to do.”

      The thief smiled. “Yes, he did.”

      He stared at the clerk for a moment before he reached for the bag. The moment his fingers touched the bag, the clerk took a step back and dropped to the floor behind the counter. Clutching the bag of money, the gunman whirled to face the customer and pointed the gun at him.

      The young man lowered his hands and put them out in front of him as if to shield his body from the gun’s blast. “No. Please, no.” His whispered plea sent chills through Jessica.

      The robber smiled and shook his head. “You shouldn’t have stuck your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

      He raised the gun and pointed it toward the young man’s head.

      Jessica’s hope that she could do something to keep anyone from being hurt evaporated. The intent of the robber was plain. He meant to kill the young man standing at the counter and possibly the clerk also.

      She took a deep breath and stepped out into the open. “Drop your gun, or I’ll shoot!” she yelled.

      A surprised look flashed on the robber’s face, and he jerked the gun away from the customer and aimed it at her. Before she could move, the sharp crack of a bullet exploded next to her, and the smell of barbecued potato chips filled the air. She ducked and fired at the gunman before he had the chance to get off a better-aimed shot.

      A scream of pain poured from the robber’s mouth. He dropped the gun and the bag of money before he grabbed for the side of his head. Jessica could see a trail of blood running down the man’s cheek and realized her bullet must have grazed his head.

      She took a step forward, and the man stooped to retrieve his gun. She raised hers higher and stared down the barrel of the weapon. “Don’t even think about it, mister.”

      He cast a wild-eyed stare from her to the customer. Then he grabbed the young man and shoved him toward her. She braced for the impact, but the boy’s full weight slammed into her and knocked her backward.

      The robber, blood still trickling from his head, turned and ran out the door before she could regain her footing. Jessica caught a glimpse of the young customer’s fear-filled eyes before she darted around him and sprinted after the fleeing gunman.

      The clerk peeked up over the top of the counter as she sped past. “Call 911,” she yelled over her shoulder.

      As she stepped onto the sidewalk outside the store, she saw the thief run toward the open passenger door of a waiting car. He jumped into the car, and it peeled away before he had the door closed. She lowered her gun and stared at the car’s license plate. As she muttered the numbers on the plate over and over, she pulled a notepad with an attached pen out of her pocket and jotted them down in an unsteady hand.

      When she walked back in the store, the clerk was leaning against the counter, his face in his hands. The bag containing the money lay on the floor where the robber had dropped it when he fired the first shot. The customer stood in front of the cash register, his face pale and his body trembling. His hand clutched a cell phone, and he glanced down at it. “I called 911.”

      Jessica glanced at the clerk, and he bit down on his lip. “I was shaking so hard I couldn’t get my fingers to work.” He sagged against the now-closed cash register and shuddered. “Did he get away?” he mumbled.

      “Yes. Someone was waiting outside in a car.” She grasped the young customer’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Are you okay?”

      He straightened to his full height and nodded. His gaze drifted to the gun still in her hand and then back to her face. His lips moved, but no sound emerged from his mouth. He cleared his throat and looked at the gun once more. “Who are you? A police officer?”

      She stuck her gun back in the holster and shook her head. “Not anymore. I used to be. Now I’m a bounty hunter.”

      His eyes widened and his mouth gaped open. Jessica tried to suppress the smile that always accompanied the surprised first reaction of many people when she told them her profession. She knew what the next question would be, and he didn’t disappoint her.

      “A woman bounty hunter?”

      She sighed in resignation. “Yes, believe it or not. There are women who take on this job, and I’m proud to say I’m one of them.”

      The clerk shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve been seeing you come in here for a while, but I never would have guessed you were a bounty hunter. Are you like that guy on TV? You know, the one who tracks down fugitives who’ve skipped bail.”

      She shrugged. “A bit like him. I don’t have tattoos like he does, though.”

      The two young men smiled.

      “Well, whatever you do for a living,” the customer said, “I’m glad you were here today. You saved our lives.” He stuck out his hand. “My name’s Jamie.”

      She grasped his hand and shook it. “And I’m Jessica.”

      The clerk gave a shaky laugh. “And I’m Richard.”

      He started to say something else, but before he could, sirens wailed outside and tires squealed as a car came to a stop. “Sounds like the police have arrived. That was fast,” she said.

      She stepped toward the entrance to meet the first responders and had almost reached it when the front door burst open. A man bolted inside, then skidded to an abrupt stop, the surprise on his face reflecting her own. Neither one of them spoke for a moment, and then he drew in a rough breath.

      “Jessica?”

      Her eyes wide, she took a step back and shook her head. This couldn’t be happening. Ryan Spencer. Why hadn’t she expected him to come? After all, the store was in the precinct where he worked. Where she’d worked when they’d been partners four years ago. Her fingers curled into her palms, and she swallowed.

      She hadn’t spoken to him in four years and hadn’t seen him in nearly a year. The last time she’d laid eyes on him had been when a man broke into her apartment determined to kill her best friend, Claire Walker, who happened to be staying with her at the time. Ryan had answered the call. They hadn’t talked that night. And now here he was again. Not changed a bit, and still as handsome as ever.

      His dark hair fell across his forehead just as she remembered. And as she knew he would, he reached