Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(10)
I was so wrong. So very, very, wrong.
“Drac! Yo, Dracula!” Another robber, this one with a smaller automatic weapon—an Uzi, maybe—and wearing a mummy mask—jogged between the prone customers. “The manager tripped the alarm, and Frankie—the stupid f*ck that he is—knocked her out.”
“Three minutes,” the timekeeper called, panic tingeing his muffled voice. The sound of sirens could be heard, faint but growing louder. “Aw shit.”
“All right then,” Dracula said. “Plan B. Tell the others.” He addressed the bank as the mummy loped back to the rear offices. “Hear that, ladies and gentlemen? Change of plans.”
I flinched and bit back a scream as the lights went out. A chorus of frightened cries erupted along the prone people on the floor. The werewolf at the door dropped the blinds while another ran up with a ring of jangling keys. The front doors were locked, blocked, and the sirens that had been distant were loud now, but on the other side.
The fragile calm shattered. I felt the panic run through the people, streaking through our clutched hands and huddled bodies like an electric current. My grip on Cory’s jacket tightened and the woman on my left found my hand and squeezed. Her panting breaths began again, and I squeezed back.
Cory jerked his chin, and I tore my eyes from the masked men and their guns to look at him. He shook his head—the smallest of movements—and a flicker of a crooked smile touched his lips. Be cool, he mouthed.
I nodded almost imperceptibly and fought for calm again. Keeping my gaze locked on Cory’s brown eyes helped.
The leader shoved his Dracula mask up onto his head, leaving his face bare. He strode among the people, his voice clearer but just as emotionless as before. When he turned my way, I saw a man in his late thirties, rather plain of face, and with blue eyes that were as flat as his voice. I had never seen anything more frightening in my life than those dead eyes.
“Listen up,” he said. “Everyone’s going to get on their feet, stay low, and move to the back. Anyone tries anything stupid and we will not hesitate to end you. Got that? Up! Now! Move!”
Five or so men began barking, kicking, and prodding as the people got off the floor. Cory took me by the hand, and in turn, I helped the Indian woman to her feet. The three of us followed the rest as we were herded past the desk area to a narrow hallway that ran behind and parallel to the tellers. We were ordered to sit, backs to the long wall of the hallway, facing conference rooms and small offices.
I sat with Cory on my right, the young woman on my left, along with fifty or so other people who’d also picked the wrong day to visit United One. The wall didn’t stretch long enough. The robbers ordered half the people to sit on other side of the hallway, facing us, strangers cowering and clinging to one another under the fluorescents, as here the lights remained on.
Dracula strolled between us casually, as if half of the Los Angeles police force and probably a S.W.A.T. team weren’t outside the bank’s walls right at that moment.
“So here’s what happens now. Things are going to get a little more personal. I wear the Dracula mask but remember old Drac’s real name? Anyone? Vlad the Impaler. Keep that in mind, why don’t you, especially if you get the stupid notion to f*ck with me.
“My associates are similarly named. You’ll be introduced soon enough. Right now, Wolfman and Frankie are circulating among you. You’re to drop your wallets and cell phones and any pretty trinkets you think we might enjoy into their bags with absolutely zero bullshit, because that is precisely the amount of bullshit that will be tolerated: zero. The situation has changed. My monster squad and I are a little tense. A little twitchy. It’s not going to take much f*ckery for one or all of us to lose our patience with you, so do as you’re told and maybe you’ll keep the gray matter between your ears right where it belongs. Do not test us. Are we clear?”
Before anyone could answer, a phone rang from one of the offices farther down the hall.
“Excuse me,” Dracula said, “but that’s probably for me.”
He went to the phone while two of the robbers walked over and among the people, relieving them of wallets, watches, rings, and cell phones. I quickly spun my engagement ring around so that only the slender gold band was visible. I thought Cory would see and disapprove—though God knew why such a consideration could bother me at a time like this. But he was watching the masked men approach with a grim, determined expression.
“Whole bag, princess, let’s go!” whooped a guy wearing a Frankenstein’s monster mask. Frankie, I presumed. He offered an open white trash bag to the Indian woman. I noted the pocked skin of his neck above his shirt was spattered with a small amount of red—someone’s blood—and his eyes behind the green mask were wide and full of malicious glee.
The Indian woman dumped her Coach bag into the trash bag. “Your gold too,” Frankie said and cackled. His wide, dilated eyes darted to me. “You too, Red. The stones, the bag, all of it.”
I took off my watch, multi-colored gemstone earrings and necklace and dropped them into the bag, Frankie leering at me obscenely the entire time. My bag—with my cell phone in it—followed.
Job done, the Indian woman gripped my hand again, nearly making me yelp, but she concealed the fact I was still wearing my engagement ring. The huge diamond on the underside of my hand cut painfully into my middle finger but Frankie didn’t notice. He now squatted in front of Cory, bouncing up and down like an eager little kid. Drugs, I thought. He’s flying high on drugs and armed with a deadly automatic weapon to boot. I clutched Cory’s arm as Frankie sneered and gabbled at him “You wanna give me a hard time, big guy, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”