Takeover - Lisa Black [104]
He pulled her off Lucas, who rolled once and then jerked up the automatic. The barrel pointed up at her with an unwavering grip. Neither Theresa nor the snipers had disabled him.
There was only him now, and two of them, and Cavanaugh had a bulletproof vest. It dug into her side as he held her up. She turned to the hostages. “Run! Get out of here!”
They didn’t need to be told twice. Brad scrambled to his feet.
Lucas fired another shot, painful even to her already numbed ears. A chunk of marble leaped out of the floor, five feet to the left of the little boy, Ethan. Everyone froze.
Lucas darted against the wall on the other side of the doors, safe from the snipers and with a clear shot of everyone in the room. She and Cavanaugh were not close enough to attack. The advantage of the situation had righted itself in his favor.
“Step back,” he told them. “Go over to the desk, by the others.”
Cavanaugh shoved her slightly behind him, out of either chivalry or convenience—she couldn’t do much with her hands still tied behind her back. “It’s over, Lucas.”
“It’s nowhere near over,” he said. “Chris.”
CHAPTER 30
3:39 P.M.
The plastic tie-wrap around her wrists must have stretched during the tumble, because she could now, painfully, slide one hand free of the other. She stayed pressed to Cavanaugh, their bodies so close she could smell his sweat; her hands swiped the back of his vest, searching for the hard outlines of a concealed weapon. If she found one, she would shoot Lucas without the slightest hesitation. She knew this as clearly as she knew her own name.
Of course he had none. Cavanaugh had promised to come unarmed, and he could not lie.
“Go. Sit with the others.”
Theresa shifted sideways to get to the desk rather than turn her back on him and collapsed almost gratefully to the cool tile. Both her wrists bled from shallow cuts. Cavanaugh sat next to her. Lucas sped past the doors to tuck himself into the L of the teller cages and the exterior wall; he favored his right knee with the slightest limp.
“Well.” He retrieved his automatic rifle and switched the handgun to his left hand. “That was exciting. I’ll be taking that vest, Chris. I think I’ll need it more than you will.”
Theresa tried to picture the thoughts crashing about in Cavanaugh’s mind. His perfect record had been shot to hell—no pun intended—and he found himself on the wrong side of the phone lines. Would he try to do his job from the inside or give up, let Jason take over? Assuming that his mind hadn’t shut down from the shock, how would he play this?
“This has gone from bad to worse, Lucas.” She heard him plainly over the ringing in her ears. She had not gone deaf.
“Tell me about it.”
“Who are you?” Jessica Ludlow asked of the man who had just dropped down next to her.
“He’s the negotiator, Jessie,” Lucas told her. “Though he hasn’t done such a great job so far. That dog don’t hunt, as we say at home.”
Cavanaugh asked, “What are you going to do now? Do you have a plan?”
“You know me, Chris. I always have a plan.”
“Mind if I ask what it is?”
“I don’t mind. Unfortunately, we don’t have time to discuss it. Let me have that vest.”
Cavanaugh pulled at the Velcro straps and removed the bulletproof vest. The shirt underneath had a circle of blood above the right pocket, and the whole thing dripped with sweat. He slid it across to Lucas but spoke to Theresa. “I’m a little damp.”
“You don’t smell too good either,” she observed.
His dimples appeared, as if he found her attempt at humor reassuring. “We’re still alive. We’ll make it.”
“I know.” She didn’t know any such thing, but the old defenses reasserted themselves. Act like everything is normal, and it will be. “Where’s my daughter? How is she?”
“She’s fine. She’s across the street, watching this on the monitor.”
“You’re letting her watch this?” Stunned, she let her voice climb to a shout, and Lucas told her to shut up. She barely heard him. “You’re letting her see her own mother held at gunpoint? What if—”
She stopped. What if he kills me?
“I’m sorry, Theresa,” Cavanaugh said to her.