Guns 'N' Tulips

Chapter One

Lily lunged forward, trying to wrench her arm from the man’s iron grip. He yanked her to a halt, and jabbed his weapon into her temple. If the stocking on his head and his manhandling hadn’t convinced her of the seriousness of the situation, having the business end of the man’s machine gun pointed at her did.

“Do I have your attention now?”

When she nodded, he lowered the gun. She scanned the room. The restricted area was empty. Where were all the front staff? Muffled cries reached her from the lobby, but from where she stood, she couldn’t see anyone. The man pushed her forward.

A few steps later, she froze, her feet refusing to move, her heart refusing to beat. The tellers, Joe…, were lying… For a second, she thought they were dead, but she’d heard no shots, saw no blood. Then Joe moved, and she could finally take a breath. It was a hold-up, not a massacre.

At least not yet.

Lifting her gaze from the floor, Lily counted five men, all masked and holding identical weapons, pointed at her fellow employees. Her clients. Oh God. These guys weren’t just bank robbers; they were the Bank Bandits.

Hearing a rough inhale, she jerked her head toward the sound. She narrowed her eyes at a Bandit standing a few yards away from her; he was staring and breathing hard. No way, buddy. She might die today, but none of these monsters would rape her.

In drills, the cops had always arrived within three to four minutes of the alarm sounding. If they’d remembered their training, at least one of the tellers would have tripped the silent alarm. She just needed to keep the Bandits talking, delay them until help arrived.

“Hey, Conman. Stop fucking gawking and do your job,” said the man holding her arm.

The other man cleared his throat. “Yeah. I got it, Rourke.”

She couldn’t see his face clearly, but that voice… And what had the boss called him? Conman? Hadn’t Connor mentioned that nickname when he’d told her a story about growing up on the South Side? Could Connor really have sunk so low?

She ripped out of Rourke’s grasp, her gaze never leaving Conman’s face. “You!” she shouted, closing the gap between them. Conman took a step back, shifting the barrel of his gun away from her. When he turned his head sideways, depriving her of the good look she needed, she poked his chest with her finger. “I know you.”

That got his attention. Conman’s head whipped back to her, his eyes wide, ping-ponging between her and the other Bandits. This close up, she could see Connor’s strong jaw and sky-blue eyes through the nylon shielding his face. Her chest squeezed painfully, betrayal piercing her heart, cleaving it in two. She wanted to cry, scream, pound some sense into him. How could he do this? How could he join a gang of ruthless killers?

The blood seemed to drain from his face as he clasped his fingers around hers, pulling her hand away from his chest. “You don’t know nothing.”

The message was pretty clear. Connor was hiding information from the others. Were they even aware he’d been a cop? Then again, if they did know, why would they trust him? She certainly didn’t. He’d been no better than a smarmy used-car salesman, feeding her all the lines he’d known she’d wanted to hear, igniting her dreams about a future with him, a family. She felt a flutter in her belly and pressed a hand there to feel their baby move.

After he’d been kicked off the police force and thrown in jail, she’d tried to visit him, to tell him about his impending fatherhood, but he’d refused to see her. Without giving her any explanation, he’d completely shut her out.

Connor could have his secrets and she’d have hers; he was never going to know about this child. Still, that wouldn’t stop her from giving him a piece of her mind. “I know exactly who you are. It was all over the news last Christmas. You’re that scum-sucking no-good traitor who turned your back on your badge. I wish they’d shot you instead of putting you in jail.” She jerked her head toward Rourke. The man was obviously the leader of this merry band. “Did he pay for the slimeball who got you off on a technicality? You should be feeding worms for what you did.” Whoa. Maybe she’d bottled up a little more anger toward her ex-fiancé than she’d thought.

Rourke laughed, but his eyes were sharp as knives. “The lady seems to have you pegged, Conman. Maybe knows a little more than she should?”

Oh crap. What had she done?

Connor met Rourke’s gaze and sneered. “Lady? All’s I see is a foul-mouthed whore dressed up in fancy clothes.”

“How dare you—” She gasped, shock swallowing her words. Connor swore, but he never disparaged anyone, especially women. Even considered it a point of pride. He’d never call her such a nasty word. Unless… Foul-mouthed. That was it!

Connor looked down at her, his hard eyes drilling into her skull. His full lips curled into a sneer that turned her stomach. “Bitches who talk too much get killed. My suggestion? Shut the fuck up.”