Lindsay and Andi and I huddled together in the gap between the register counter and the pink lunch counter. Ahead of us was the door to the kitchen, behind us the café itself. I cradled my wrist in my good hand, cupping it through my fleece jacket. I tried to look weak and frail, a challenge since I’d spent my whole life trying to prove I was strong. The throbbing pain in my wrist made the mummery easier than it might have been.
Harl grabbed Andi, and she bleated in terror as he rested his hand on her shoulder and his gun against her throat. For whatever reason, the very nonchalance of the action more than all that had come before made me realize that we might not survive the night. Michael and Harl were men with everything to lose if we three lived.
I thought of Greg and what might have been and the injustice of his losing someone else he loved. It’s just not fair, Lord. It’s just not fair.
I thought of my mother and felt an unexpected ache. Was I going to die without resolving my feelings toward her, without forgiving? What was I going to say when I met God? Well, Lord, I just didn’t feel like making things right?
“Where’s the DVD?” Harl demanded.
Andi hunched her shoulders and squeezed her eyes shut.
“You’re not an ostrich,” Harl sneered. “You can close your eyes all you want, but we aren’t going anywhere until you give us what we want.”
Andi opened her eyes and glared at him with what I thought looked like contempt, an amazing thing considering who he was, what he’d done, and where we were.
“I happen to be praying,” she said with dignity. “I’m asking God Himself—not a mere archangel—to save us.”
Chaz gave a strangled laugh. “That’s funny.” When no one else laughed, he said defensively, “You know, funny strange. Like who talks to God?”
I fought the insane impulse to raise my hand.
Michael ignored Chaz and nodded to Harl. He appeared happy to let Harl deal with Andi while he stood and watched, his gun aimed at my heart. At the rate it was pounding, it would jump from my chest at any moment and yell, “Shoot me and get it over with!”
“So where is it?” Harl asked again.
“In there.” Andi pointed her chin toward the kitchen.
As good a place as any. All kinds of nooks and crannies, drawers and shelves offered cover for something as small as a disc.
“Everyone, move,” Michael ordered.
Andi started for the kitchen, Lindsay right behind her.
“Knives,” Chaz shouted. “There’s knives back there.”
Well, yeah. It was a kitchen.
“You’ll just have to keep her away from them, won’t you?” Harl’s voice dripped with disdain, which the ever-sharp Chaz missed.
Twitching like a junkie in need of a fix—which was exactly what he was—Chaz charged into the kitchen. “There they are!” He threw his body between the big knives, slotted in front of a scrubbed cutting block, and little Andi as if he were a Marine ready to stand off a company of terrorists.
I thought of all the years I’d spent with a knife under my pillow, having to use it only once. How ironic that when I needed one again, Chaz—Chaz!—prevented me from getting to it.
But I had a better plan.
“Move it.” Michael shoved at me again, and I staggered.
“My wrist!” I yelled it in spite of the fact that he hadn’t touched me anywhere near my right arm. I fell back onto the stool behind the register. “Don’t hurt me again!”
Michael, disgusted with my whining, ignored me as I started to pull myself upright. I put out my good hand to steady myself, dropped it below the counter, and grabbed for my weapon of choice: a canister of pepper spray I kept in case I ever wanted to fend off a burglar. Or a phony archangel. As I stood, I slid the spray into the side pocket in my jeans. I made my way out from behind the counter, moving toward the kitchen as requested.
“Where?” Harl demanded.
Andi looked at me, terror written all over her face.
I actually felt my stomach drop as I realized the DVD wasn’t here in the kitchen.
Harl realized it too.
“Why you little—” He grabbed her by the hair and raised a fist to strike her.
At that wonderfully appropriate moment a black cat raced through the kitchen door, held open by Michael, bounded onto the cutting board, and leapfrogged onto Chaz, who screamed like a terrified little girl when Oreo landed on his shoulder. Oreo screeched too, dug in her back claws, and jumped down by way of the stove and scurried beneath Lindsay’s pastry table.
There was a moment of absolute silence from everyone but Chaz who blubbered and brushed at his shoulder as if Oreo was still there.
Harl turned his gun on Oreo, visible only as a pair of unwinking eyes and a white bib.
“No!” Lindsay and I both yelled, racing to stand in front of our cat.
“No, Harl.” Michael’s voice was a whip. “No shooting here. Too much noise.”
I watched Harl, fascinated as he struggled to obey Michael. There was a lot of resentment and anger there. Even if they got away tonight, someday it was all going to blow, and only one of those men would be left standing. My money was on Michael, though Harl would fight hard and dirty.
“How did that cat get in here?” Michael demanded, his eyes darting about the kitchen and into the café.
I shook my head. “I don’t know how he got in. You saw him come downstairs with Lindsay, but he ran away.”
“The back door must not have closed behind us, and she pushed her way in,” Lindsay said. “She’s a big, strong animal.”
Michael turned to Chaz, now shaking doubly hard and muttering about demon cats and werewolves. “Go check that back door. Make sure it’s closed and locked.”