The lookin Brad’s eyes told Simone everything she needed to know—he had worked himself into an uncontrollable rage. There was no way she’d talk him down—no way anyone could talk him down. The gun trembled in his hand; in fact, his entire body trembled, and it was all because of the white-hot anger, hate, surprise, and possibly fear that wracked his body. She didn’t dare move. Even keeping still, that trembling hand might fire the gun without him intending it. No matter how badly she wanted to fight back, she needed to be a calming influence. Even if he missed her, the other people in the room were at risk—he might shoot them.
“How could you do that?” he demanded.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You don’t know anything about computers. I fried your accounts, and now everything is back.”
She kept her voice level, tried not to let her fear creep into it. “I have friends in low places, Brad. You should know that by now. I didn’t do anything. I simply told them what happened and asked them to help me. I didn’t even know what to ask them to do, and I have no idea what they did.”
“They locked me out of my own accounts.” Disbelief was hot in his voice.
“Call the bank. Tell them to rectify the mistake.”
He swung a meaty hand, slapping her across the face as she sagged against the bar. “I’m not talking about bank accounts, bitch.”
“Then I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Brad pointed his gun at Sam, and for an instant she considered taking the gun. Given the way he was standing, that was a fairly simple thing to do. It was a revolver and if she were fast, she could jam the web of her hand between the thumb and forefinger, between the hammer and the firing pin. That would keep the gun from firing. If she was fast enough. But she’d only done it in class, and this was a real gun pointed at Sam. If she missed, if it went off… She couldn’t risk Sam’s life.
The front door opened, and a man came in. Brad whirled to face him, his gun aimed at the man’s face. She saw the shock on the man’s face. He put up his hands, holding them in front of his face as if they might stop a bullet. “Hey, I just wanted a beer, man!”
“Lock the door,” Brad said.
The man looked perplexed, and Brad waved the gun. That got him out of his trance, and he went to the door and looked at it, finally noticing the bar that dropped across the door. He brought it down, barring the metal door from the inside.
“Everyone put your cell phone on the table in front of you,” Brad said. The customers complied, and Brad turned his attention to the newcomer again. “Grab them and yours, and put them on the bar.”
When the customer did what he was told, Brad smiled at Sam. “Give the man a beer for doing a nice job, Sam. And add your phone to the pile.”
As Sam tossed his phone on the bar, Brad waved the gun at Simone. “Turn around,” he said. When she had her back to him, he came close and reached around her. His touch made her skin crawl, and she felt the pressure of his hand in the pocket of her apron. He pressed the gun to the back of her head and his crotch against her ass, then let the hand in her pocket rub her body before he grabbed her phone. He tossed it on the bar as well.
“What happens now, Brad?” Sam asked.
“Whatever I want.”
Sam blinked. “Really?”
“If you want this bitch to stay alive… yes, I think so.” He looked around, noting that a couple of the men had gotten out of their chairs. “Put the phones in a bag for me. Cell phones to go.” As Sam complied, Brad turned toward the captive audience. “Okay, everybody better relax. Sit back down and look calm, or I’ll blow her head off and then I’ll shoot you. And then Sam will be pissed because this gun has big bullets that will splatter brains all over the fucking bar.”
The men eased back down.
Sam pushed the bag of phones toward him and snorted. “So, are we supposed to just sit here and watch you be the big man? I don’t think the lady is impressed. I know I’m not.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Sam.” His free hand gripped her arm tight, and she forced herself to relax, not give him anything to hold onto. He was stalling, giving himself time to think. He had reacted, exploding, just needing to do something. He had no plan. Sam probably had told him about the gun in his desk at some point, and he’d just taken it, thinking it would give him power. And it had, but he hadn’t worked out what happened next. Simone could see it in his face—he was considering his options. He pressed his body against hers, and she stood still. Let him stall. The longer he took, the better chance Rafe and Max would get there in time.
Sam leaned on the bar, trying to be casual. “Think about what you’re doing, Brad. Every step you take leads you into deeper water.”
“Advice from Sam, the fucking boxer philosopher, right?”
“I’m just saying that you’re standing at the edge of a bottomless pit, Brad. You keep moving in this direction, and it is a long fall. So far no one is hurt, but using that gun is gonna hurt you as much as anyone else.”
“Fuck you.” He rubbed up against Simone. “It doesn’t matter anymore. All that’s left is to make a statement.”
“A statement?”
“That this whore is like all of them—you know how they are, Sam. She thinks she can just tempt a man as much as she wants, that she can be a cock tease and not have to put out unless she wants to. She needs to be taught a lesson.”
“There is a time and place…”