Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“Okay. I should be done by the time you’re back,” I said as I finished with the last slicer.
“Good. Fucking back is killing me. Got used to not being on my feet all day,” he said as he walked into the back.
The door didn’t close behind him, meaning he’d likely propped it open with a milk crate so I didn’t have to let him back in.
So I’d heard the slam when it happened.
But I’d just assumed, stupidly, that he’d accidentally missed the top of the dumpster and the trash whacked into the side or something.
Until the front door opened, the happy little bells jingling—a feature I was glad Rico had kept after the renovation.
“Sorry. We’re closed. We open tomorrow at ten a.m.,” I called without looking up.
That was my second stupid move.
It wasn’t until I heard footsteps coming from the back, several of them, that my stomach dropped and my head snapped up.
Then there they were.
Two guys.
Tall, solid, all in black.
Including the ski masks on their faces and the gloves on their hands.
“Shit,” I hissed, rushing backward until I remembered the other footsteps.
Turning, two more men were approaching from the back.
“Open the fucking register,” one of them demanded even as I backed myself up against it.
Not because of fear, per se. Though, I’ll admit that adrenaline was surging through my system, making my heart punch against my ribcage and my hands go sweaty. But because near the register is where Ricky kept a bat.
I’d never seen him actually use it, but he claimed that there were a few times he’d needed to ‘knock some skulls.’
The logic of a hold-up at an establishment is to just… do what they want. Open the register. Give them the money. The insurance would take care of it.
That logic didn’t account for the fear of other things that could happen to a woman alone at a shop at night with four masked men.
I didn’t care about the money.
Clearly, Rico had it if he was dropping all kinds of money on renovations and new uniforms.
I wanted to protect myself from getting gang-raped at my own freaking workplace.
“She’s going for something,” one of them said.
And just a second later, pain screamed across my scalp as someone grabbed me by the ponytail, yanking me backward, then tossing me to the side, making me collide hard enough with the counter that it knocked out my breath.
“Just a bat,” one of the others said.
But that didn’t seem to be good enough for the guy who’d grabbed me.
He reached for me again, this time around the throat, hauling me closer by it as my chest started to hurt and my face got fuzzy.
“Stupid fucking bitch. Open the goddamn register and maybe I won’t bruise that pretty face of yours.”
Okay.
Alright.
Maybe I should just open the register, give them the money, and try to run out the back door while they were distracted by grabbing the cash.
Decision made, I gave him a nod, and he released my neck, but grabbed my shoulder instead, shoving me forward so hard that I lost my footing, falling forward too quickly even to brace myself, making me clip my lip on the corner of the cash register before falling to the floor.
“Christ,” the man snarled, grabbing me by the back of my shirt and dragging me back to my feet as blood flooded my mouth from my split lip.
I ran my tongue instinctively against my teeth, testing them for looseness. Finding none, I tried to ignore the pain and drip of blood as I reached toward the register, tapping at the screen with shaky fingers, messing up my employee passcode once before getting it right, making the cash drawer slide open with a festive little ching.
“Empty this shit,” the man behind me said, grabbing me by the neck again, and pulling me away from the register. “Where’s the safe?” he snarled in my ear.
“Um, under here,” I said, pointing down, only to realize that the new refrigerated display case didn’t feature a spot for the safe. “It was there,” I said, hating the wobble in my voice.
“Show me the office,” he demanded, grabbing me by the back of my collar, keeping me close to him as he turned to his buddies. “We’re going into the office. Don’t interrupt us,” he said, the words and the tone making dread flood my belly, had bile rising up my throat. “I’ll letcha know when it’s your turn,” he added, making a sobbing sound form at the base of my throat, but I choked it back.
It was going to be okay.
I had a chance to fight one of these guys off, then rush out the back door before his buddies came to see what was going on. This was my only chance to get away.
So I sucked in a steadying breath and forced my legs to carry me down the alley, around the acrylic-enclosed room, then around into the office.