Nobody But You B&N (6 page)

"Oh, my God," she whispered in horror.

Brady turned around and hustled her out of the van.

"That was Max. He's hurt," she said. "They shot him, Brady."

"I know," he said, giving her a little shake. "You need to stay here, let us do our job, Emma."

"I want to help."

"Then don't get in the way."

"You have to save him, Brady. You have to. Promise me."

"I'm going to do everything I can," he said grimly.

It wasn't a promise, but it was all she was going to get.

* * *

Spencer stared down at Max's face. It appeared that his brother's skin was taking on the faint hue of blue, or was that just the strobe lights flashing through the upper portion of the uncovered windows? He looked over at Hallie, needing her reassurance.

Her face was tense, her jaw tight, her eyes filled with determination but also fear. She was checking Max's pulse and after a moment she nodded. "He's hanging in there."

A part of him wondered if she was telling him a comforting lie, but he chose instead to believe her words, because any other scenario was too terrifying to contemplate. He shifted his body as his legs began to cramp from the tight position. He was careful to keep the pressure on Max's wound. Thankfully, the bleeding had slowed down.

He glanced across the bank where the men were in yet another discussion about whether or not they should answer the phone. He was desperate for them to get the negotiations started, to take some sort of action. It was Max's only chance. But these idiots didn't know what to do. "We had to get the stupidest bank robbers on the planet," he muttered angrily.

"I wouldn't tell them that," Hallie replied.

"Maybe I should. They need some advice."

"They're not going to take it from you. Unless…" She paused. "You showed them a tattoo before. What does it mean?"

"It's a prison tattoo, the same one the hooded guy has on his arm."

"You were in prison?" she asked, surprise in her eyes.

"For seven years. Manslaughter. I killed the man who was stalking my fiancé," he added, making short work of a long story.

"Sounds justified. How did you end up in jail?"

He could hear the doubt in her voice, and he wasn't surprised. Everyone had questioned his side of the story. "It's a long story."

"Tell me at least part of it."

"I can't. I have to think of a way out of this."

"There's no way out, Spencer, not unless they pick up the phone and start talking to the cops."

"How can I make them do that?"

"You already tried. Let's just do what we're doing." She drew in a shaky breath. "I feel sick."

"Hang in there," he said, seeing the distress in her eyes.

"I'm trying. I could really use a distraction from all the blood."

He hesitated, taking another quick look across the bank. Their captors weren't paying them any attention. They were confident they had this group under control, and they did. Spencer was the only one who could probably do something, and he couldn't take his hands off of Max's abdomen.

"Spencer," Hallie said. "Please talk to me."

"Okay. I'll tell you what happened to me. There was a guy who was harassing my fiancé, one of her coworkers. He would follow her, take pictures of her walking down the street and send them to her. One night I saw him outside of our apartment. Stephanie wasn't home. He was waiting in the shadows for her, but he got me instead. I confronted him. He gave me a smug smile and said something to the effect of having my fiancé. I hit him. One punch, and he went down. He hit his head on the sidewalk and died in the hospital an hour later."

Hallie stared back at him with wide eyes, but so far there was no hint of disgust, so he went on. "The prosecutor twisted what happened between us, and he persuaded the jury that I was paranoid, jealous and angry enough to kill an innocent man who was interested in my girlfriend. The man wasn't innocent, but he was clever, smarter than me. He'd covered his tracks."

"But your fiancé must have defended you?"

"She tried, but she fell apart on the stand. Her words were taken out of context. She got confused. It was bad. In the end, I went to jail."

"It sounds so unfair."

"It felt that way to me."

She considered his words, and he was happy she hadn't rushed to judgment, although he couldn't imagine why she hadn't. Everyone else had been eager to form an immediate opinion.

"Did you mean to kill him?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I just wanted him to leave her alone. But I acted stupidly. It was a bad decision to confront him, one I've had plenty of time to think about."

"When did you get out?"

"Seven months ago. I've been trying to start over, but my old life is gone, and I haven't quite figured out where my new life is going."

"You have time."

"I guess." He fell silent as the phone on the desk rang again. This time—finally—the man in the Yankee cap strode forward to answer the call. "Looks like they're ready to deal," he murmured.

"Let's hope the cops are, too."

"Yeah?" the gunman said. After listening for a moment, he added, "You don't need to know my name." He paused again, his gaze moving toward Max. "He's fine, barely injured."

Spencer's lips tightened. Obviously, the police knew Max was hurt. They must have been able to regain some of the security video before the cameras were destroyed.

"No one is going anywhere," the gunman said. "We want a car at the door and two hundred thousand dollars in unmarked bills in a bag on the front seat." He listened again. "No one comes out until the car is here. I don't have to give you anything in return. You have fifteen minutes before we start killing hostages." He slammed the phone down without waiting for an answer.

"My brother doesn't have fifteen minutes," Spencer said to Hallie. He directed his next words to the gunmen. "You need to send out a hostage, show you're cooperating."

"We don't need your advice," the hooded man said.

"Look, you can let my brother go. I can carry him to the front door and put him outside. The paramedics can take him from there. He's no good to you. You can't use him as a shield. You can do that with me."

"Or me," Hallie put in. "I'll go with you."

"Hallie, no," Spencer said, but he could see the fighting light in her eyes.

"It doesn't matter if I die. I should be dead."

"Shut up—both of you," the hooded man replied. Then he and his partner moved away to talk again.

"They're not going for it," Spencer said. He looked into Hallie's gaze. "Thanks for the offer. That was brave."

She shrugged. "I just want to do something good for a change."

"You're doing that now. You're helping me save my brother's life."

"I hope so," she said. "If your hands are getting tired, we can switch."

"No, I'm good," he said, keeping the pressure on Max's abdomen. "Maybe the police will act quickly knowing that Max is hurt. Hopefully, it's five minutes instead of fifteen."

* * *

Emma couldn't stand the waiting. Every minute seemed like an eternity. After getting kicked out of the SWAT van, she'd been sidelined behind the police tape. Her father must have called her mother and siblings at some point, because her entire family and bridal party now surrounded her.

As she glanced over her shoulder at the group, it seemed a surreal site, a bridal party in gold gowns and black tuxedos gathered outside of a bank on a cold winter night. They were supposed to be at the reception now, drinking champagne and making toasts.

They were not supposed to be waiting out a hostage situation with Max's life in jeopardy. She could still see his body on the ground, blood spreading across his white shirt, Spencer rushing to his side and then some other woman coming over to help. Had they stopped the bleeding? Was the wound bad? She had a million questions and no answers.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and prayed for Max to make it through.

Burke came over to her side. "I just talked to Brady. They're making a deal. There should be some action soon."

"What kind of action?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"You do know, Burke, tell me." As a firefighter and arson investigator, she'd worked hostage situations before. She knew how delicate and dangerous the negotiation could be.

"They're going to get them a car and some cash," he said, compassion in his eyes.

Out of all of her family members, Burke probably came the closest to understanding her feelings right now. He'd lost his fiancé in a car crash just a few weeks before they were supposed to get married.

"Are they really going to let them walk out and drive away?" She didn't believe that for a second. "They're going to at least try to take a hostage with them."

"That won't be a man who's injured. Max won't be their shield."

"You're right. I just want this to be over."

"I'll see if I can find anything else out."

As Burke walked away, she returned her gaze to the bank. She'd gone to this branch a million times. She knew some of the tellers by sight. And nothing bad had ever happened. Why today?

"Em?"

She turned her head at the tentative voice and for some reason the sight of her brother Sean's face put tears in her eyes. He'd made it. And maybe because he'd made it, Max would, too. It was a completely irrational and illogical thought, but she grabbed on to it anyway.

He opened his arms, and she gave him a hug. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Sorry I'm late. I should have left a day earlier, given myself more time. I don't know why I didn't."

She knew why he'd put off the trip, because Sean was uncomfortable at family events. He was the lone ranger, the one Callaway who didn't fit in, the black sheep, at least in his mind, and probably her father's, too. Sean and her father had been at odds for as long as she could remember. In fact, sometimes she thought there was something more between them, something so deep and so private that only the two of them knew what it was. But whatever it was that stood between them, she hoped someday it would disappear, because she missed Sean being in her life.

"I'm just glad you're here now," she said. "Max was shot. I don't know how bad it is, but I don't think it's good."

"He's tough. Max will fight his way back to you, Em."

"I know he's trying."

"What can I do for you, Em? You need anything?"

"Just Max."

Sean nodded. "Do you want me to go? Nicole said you didn't want to talk to anyone."

"I don't want to talk, but I wouldn't mind the company," she said, knowing that Sean could stand quietly by her side and not say a word.

"You've got it."

They stood in silence for a few minutes and then Emma found a need to break the silence. "I'm going crazy. Tell me something to distract me. Tell me about your band."

"It's good. We just finished a three week tour through the Pacific Northwest."

"Where are you going next?" she asked.

"Nowhere. I'm going to be in San Francisco for a while. We're spending the next few weeks in the studio."

"That's great."

"Maybe," he said, doubt in his voice.

"What? You don't want to be home?" As she looked at him, she saw his gaze dart across the crowd to the woman standing close to Nicole. It was Jessica Schilling, the mother of Brandon's twin brother, Kyle. Nicole had told her that she thought there were sparks between Sean and Jessica, but Nicole had not wanted to encourage that connection. Jessica was practically one of the family now, and Sean didn't have a track record for long-term relationships. Nicole didn't want Sean to break Jessica's heart and cause a rift between Jessica and the Callaways, which, in turn, could hurt Brandon and Kyle's relationship.

As Sean didn't answer, she prodded, "Sean?"

He finally looked back at her. "What was the question?"

"Why don't you want to be home?"

"It's complicated."

"Is it Dad who complicates things? Or someone else?"

He smiled. "You're always so curious, Em."

Before she could press for more information, the police moved some cones to allow a car to drive past the barriers. The sedan stopped just a few feet from the front door. "Something's happening," she murmured, her heart jumping into overdrive.

Sean put his arm around her shoulder. She appreciated the warmth, because she was shaking with nervous chills.

She prayed to God that Max would be the first one out.

Max groaned, his eyelids fluttering.

"He's waking up," Spencer murmured, excitement in his voice.

While Hallie appreciated the fact that Max was regaining consciousness, she didn't want him moving. She put her hand around Max's cold fingers and said, "Stay still. Everything is okay. Don't move." Max seemed to settle a bit at her words. She looked back at Spencer. "We need to keep him quiet—for a lot of reasons."

Understanding flashed in Spencer's eyes. He knew as well as she did that besides the medical implications of Max awakening, jostling his wound and restarting the bleeding, it was better for all of them if Max remained still and didn't factor into any actions the robbers were considering. They were probably lucky that the gunmen had never looked at their I.D.'s, never realized Max was a cop. If they had, they'd probably be even more panicked than they already were.

She looked across the bank, watching the men pace and argue and then take a quick break to check the window. It was clear that they weren't in agreement about their next step or who was in charge. The hooded man seemed to be the most unpredictable. He was the one who'd shot Max without a second thought. The guy in the Yankee cap seemed more reasonable, but he was also getting worried. And why wouldn't he be? She couldn't imagine that the cops were going to let them walk out of the bank and drive away.

Max stirred again, his fingers twitching under her hand. He stretched one of his legs and then grimaced in pain. She put her other hand on Max's shoulder and leaned down next to his ear. "Don't move, Max. We need to get you back to…" She paused, looking at Spencer. "What's her name? The bride?"