All Brody wants is a day off – something he doesn’t often get.
When he finally does he swings by the bank on his way out of town… and walks into a robbery-
and then shit hits the fan.
The inside of the bank greeted me with a blast of cold air and was just as brightly lit as the sidewalk outside. The walls in here were white and so were the glossy tile floors. I stepped through the roped-off line, lining up behind several others already waiting. Four tellers stood behind the long wooden counter, each with their own computer.
It seemed like I stood in line forever, and I grew irritated because I just wanted to get the hell out of here and onto the open road.
Finally, it was my turn and I moved down the counter toward the last window on the end. I yanked out my wallet and bankcard, then looked up.
Suddenly the amount of time I waited didn’t seem like such an inconvenience.
In fact, if I had known she was the person waiting for me at the end of this counter, I would have waited longer.
Her light scarlet hair was long and filled with loose curls that fell over her shoulder and down her chest. Her complexion was flawless with the flush of fresh peaches, and her lower lip was fuller than the top, making it appear as though she had a permanent pink pout.
“How can I help you today?” she asked politely, glancing up with crystal green eyes. I watched them widen slightly and rich satisfaction flowed through me. I wasn’t pretty like her, but I wasn’t completely lacking in the looks department.
“Hey,” I said, leaning on the counter with both my elbows. The movement brought me a little closer to her. “I need to make a withdrawal.”
She glanced down at the bankcard and ID I extended between us and then back at me. I gave her a lazy smile and she cleared her throat, taking the cards. She looked them over and then her polished fingernails flew over the keyboard.
I glanced at her chest, being distracted by her nice rack, but my eyes finally found the nameplate pinned to the front of her top. Taylor.
“How much would you like to withdrawal?” she asked.
She input the amount without saying anything.
“So…” I said, leaning toward her again. “You come here often?”
She rolled her eyes, but a small smile played on her lips. “Just the days I feel like earning a paycheck.”
I grinned. “Paychecks are overrated,” I drawled. “I’m going fishing.”
“Says the man with a huge bank account,” she quipped. Then she winced and looked up. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”
I laughed. The chagrin on her face and the way her cheeks bloomed with bright pink spots was entirely amusing. “Never said I didn’t work. Just said I thought it was overrated.”
She relaxed when she realized I didn’t give a rat’s ass that she knew how much was in my account. “You should bait your hook with hot dogs. Fish love them.”
She was right. Surprise rippled through me. “You can’t tell me a girl like you likes to fish.”
“And what,” she asked, arching a red brow in my direction, “is a girl like me?”
She hit a couple keys and the little dispenser to my right started flinging out cash.
“Your withdrawal is to your right,” she said professionally.
I let the cash sit there. “Are you a tomboy in disguise?” I whispered conspiratorially. I enjoyed the emotion, the animation that played over her features. She was beautiful—there was no doubt—but it seemed that she also had a lot beneath that pretty exterior.
“Don’t tell anyone,” she whispered back, handing me a receipt. Her teeth were really white and really straight. I got this sudden craving to run my tongue along their smooth surface.
“Your secret is safe with me.” I tore my eyes away to pocket the cash, not bothering to count it. Oddly, I trusted her. I never trusted anyone.
Behind me, a loud banging sound boomed through the room, and I tensed, spinning on my heel. Four guys pushed through the entrance, each of them pulling out a gun.