Law And Disorder. Heather Graham

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      The staff had been somewhat separated from the few guests who had remained on the property, finishing up in the gardens after closing. She couldn’t remember all their names but she recalled the couple, Victor and Melissa Arden. They were on their honeymoon, yet they’d just been in Texas, visiting the graves of Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow in their separate cemeteries. They loved studying old gangsters, which was beyond ironic, Kody thought now. Another young woman from Indiana, an older man and a fellow of about forty rounded out the group.

      They were all huddled low, apparently respecting the twin guns carried by another man in an identity-concealing mask.

      “Kody!” Stacey said, breathing out a sigh of relief. She realized that her friends might have been worrying for her life.

      She turned to Dillinger. “You’d better not hurt them!”

      “Hurt them?” Dillinger said. “I don’t want to hurt any of you, really. Okay, okay, so, quite frankly, I don’t give a rat’s ass. But Barrow there, he’s kind of squeamish when it comes to blood and guts. Capone—my friend with the guns—is kind of rabid. Like he really had syphilis or rabies or something. He’d just as soon shoot you as look at you. So, here’s my suggestion.” He paused, staring Cody up and down. “You find out what I need to know. You come up to that library—and you start using everything you know and going through everything in the books, every news brief, every everything. You find that stash for me. Their lives depend on it.”

      “What if I can’t find it?” she asked. “No one has found this stash in eighty-plus years!”

      “You’d better find it,” Dillinger said.

      “Help will come!” Betsy said defiantly. “This is crazy—you’re crazy! SWAT teams aren’t but a few miles away. Someone—”

      “You’d better hope no one comes,” Dillinger said. He walked over to hunker down in front of her. “Because that’s the whole point of hostages. They want you to live. They probably don’t give a rat’s ass one way or the other, either, but that’s what they’re paid to do. Get the hostages out alive. But, to prove we mean business, we’ll have to start by killing someone and tossing out the body. And guess what? We like to start with the big-mouths, the wise-asses!”

      He reached out to Betsy and that was all the impetus Kody needed. She sure as hell wasn’t particularly courageous but she didn’t waste a second to think. She just bolted toward Dillinger, smashing into him with such force that he went flying down.

      With her.

      He was strong, really strong.

      He was up in two seconds, dragging her up with him.

      “Why you little bitch!” he exclaimed as he hauled his arm back, ready to slam a jaw-breaking fist into her face.

      His hand never reached her.

      Barrow—with swift speed and agility—was on the two of them. She felt a moment of pain as he wrenched her out of Dillinger’s grasp, thrusting himself between them.

      “No, Dillinger, no. Keep the hostages in good shape. This one especially! We need her, Dillinger. We need her!”

      “Bitch! You saw her—she tackled me.”

      “We need her!”

      The hostages had started to move, scrambling back, restless, frightened, and Capone shoved someone with the butt of his gun.

      Barrow lifted his gun and shot the ceiling.

      Plaster fell around them all like rain.

      And the room went silent.

      “Let’s get her out of here and up to the library, Dillinger. Dammit, now. Come on—let’s do what we came here to do!” he insisted. “I’m into money—not a body count.”

      Kody felt his hand as he gripped her arm, ready to drag her along.

      Dillinger stared at him a long moment.

      Was there a struggle going on? she wondered. A power play? Dillinger seemed to be the boss, but then Barrow had stepped in. He’d saved her from a good beating, at the least. She couldn’t help but feel that there was something better about him.

      She was even drawn to him.

      Oh, that was sick, she told herself. He was a crook, maybe even a killer.

      Still, he didn’t seem to be as bloodthirsty as Dillinger.

      Dillinger stepped around her and Barrow, heading for the stairs to the library. Barrow followed with her.

      “Hey!”

      They heard the call when they had nearly cleared the room.

      She turned to see Capone standing next to Betsy Rodriguez. He wasn’t touching her; he was just close to her.

      He moved his gun, running the muzzle through her hair.

      “Dakota Cameron!” he said. “The world—well, your world—is dependent on your every thought and word!”

      She started to move toward him but Barrow stopped her, whispering in her ear, “Don’t get them going!”

      She couldn’t help herself. She called out to Capone. “You’re here because you want something? Well, if you want it from me, step the hell away from my friend!”

      To her surprise, Dillinger started to laugh.

      “We’ve got a wild card on our hands, for sure. Come on, Capone. Let’s accommodate the lady. Step away from her friend.”

      From behind her, Barrow added, “Come on, Capone. I’m in this for the money and a quick trip out of the country. Let’s get her started working and get this the hell done, huh? Beat her to pieces or put a bullet in her, and she’s worthless.”

      “Miss Cameron?” Dillinger said, sweeping an elegant bow to her. “My men will behave like gentlemen—as long as your friends let them. You hear that, right?”

      “I can be a perfect gentleman!” Capone called back to him.

      “Tell them all to sit tight and not make trouble—that you will manage to get what we want,” Barrow said to her.

      She looked at him again.

      Those eyes of his! So deep, dark, blue and intense!

      Surely, if she really knew him, she’d recognize him now.

      She didn’t. Still, she couldn’t help but feel that she did, and that the man she knew wasn’t a criminal, and that she had been drawn to those eyes before.

      She shivered suddenly, looking at him.

      He didn’t like blood and guts—that’s what Dillinger had said.

      Maybe he was a thief, a hood—but hated the idea of being a murderer. Maybe, just maybe, he did want to keep them all СКАЧАТЬ