Faith: Biker Romance (The Virtues Book 2) (15 page)

As we drove south toward the bank, Eddie put his hand on top of mine, squeezing it with a gentle care. Love surged through me. I wanted to tell him right then and there, and if I had known what would happen next, I would have. Maybe it would have prevented him from going through with it. Maybe it would have prevented him from going through with a robbery that we didn’t
need
to do.

I parked a few blocks away to drop Eddie off, and we stared at each other for a long time. I didn't want to let his eyes go. Alarms were going off inside my head, but I didn’t pay them any attention. I should have grabbed Eddie’s hand as he got out of the car. I should have done one million things differently, but I didn't.

When I walked into the bank, Eddie had arrived already, but he was out of sight. I looked around, trying my best not to look suspicious or give the wig enough momentum to fly off my head. I had pinned it over my own hair as soon as we dropped off the Harley and got into the Chevy Cavalier that Eddie had boosted.

I looked past a teller and saw a tool bag near the back of the bank. My heart eased slightly at the sight. Eddie had been able to talk his way back to take a look at the electrical system. Since Eddie had himself caused shorts the previous few days, the bank manager was more than happy to have him in to find the problem.

I didn’t see him, but I knew he’d be going back and forth to the bag, looking for me to come into the bank. I’d give the signal, and he’d empty the bag of tools and fill it with money. There were two tellers behind the counter and a bank manager somewhere, surely. I was the only customer in, which was a small stroke of luck.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” The voice snapped me out of my daze. A tall woman dressed in professional attire was standing before me.

I smiled, feeling the rubber cement scar on my cheek as I did. “I’d like to set up a few bank accounts. I’m in town indefinitely on business, and I’d like to have a bit of a local connection.” My voice was molasses thick with a Texas accent I had picked up from Delores back in Nevada.

The woman nodded, extending her hand to one of the few desks in the small branch. “I’d be more than happy to help you set that up. My name is Cheryl.”

I nodded and followed. “I’m Ella.”

As she turned to head back to her desk near the entrance, I decided it was the best time. I’d catch her by surprise and keep everyone in full view of me. The only way in or out would be to my right, so I could lock the front door easily and unlock it when we made our escape.

I attempted to swallow, but there was nothing to go down.
It’s now or never.

I pulled out the gun.

“Tellers on the ground,” I shouted. When Cheryl turned back to me, I stared at her with cold eyes. “And you, you come with me.”

I grabbed her by the arm, pushing her toward the back of the bank. Once she was behind the teller counter, I pointed the gun at her as I backed up toward the entrance.

“Empty the drawers. Throw the money in the bag. And hurry the
fuck
up.”

She looked back at me, confusion and fear in her eyes. The flip of a coin; that’s what it must have been like. From one extreme to the other. She looked around.

The terrified woman asked, “What bag?”

The tool bag dropped in front of her. She spun around, somehow finding more terror in the situation. Eddie was standing there in the work overalls. One of the tellers reached up and opened her drawer. The other one did the same. As they all wished they had called in sick for work that day, the manager began to fill the tool bag with money.

I stood watching her, my gun trained on the scared woman, but my finger nowhere near the trigger. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt anyone. The money was insured, and they’d all get a week off work for pain and suffering, so I saw myself as a hero. Yeah, right.

Once the two drawers were bare, Eddie grabbed the bag and came back out to the customer side of the bank. He didn’t speak as he passed me. The two of us worked in sync. It was that partnership manifesting in criminal ways. He looked past me, out the front door. After giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, I knew we were clear.

“On the floor, Cheryl,” I called to her, and she obeyed in an instant.

As Eddie held the door open, I backed out, the gun still trained toward the vacant area where the tellers usually stood. I kept backing out until the door closed in front of me. As soon as I did, I began running back toward the car. I could already hear the sirens.

Eddie was ahead of me, running to the car. The tool bag slung over his shoulder was bouncing on his back with each stride. He looked back to me, then off toward the sirens. They were closer than they should have been. I picked up my pace, trying to catch up with my man.

Eddie was a good thirty or forty feet in front of me, just shy of the car, when he turned back. The wail of the sirens grew closer. His eyes looked fearful, and I thought there was something behind me that he was looking at. I turned, still running for the getaway car. There was nothing behind me. I couldn’t tell what direction the responding vehicles were coming from.

When I turned back to Eddie, I froze. He had dropped into the driver’s seat and fired up the engine. The thought that he would take off without me never crossed my mind. He had the money, sure, but it wasn't really about the money.

This wasn’t the “get together with an old friend for one last robbery” heist where one betrays the other. We lived together, we were going to find a place together, and we were going to have a child together. He didn’t know that, but we did love each other. I knew he wouldn’t take off, even though the passenger’s side door wasn’t hanging open waiting for me.

None of that worried me. What caused me to stop completely was the flashing blues and reds I saw reflecting in the billboard beyond the getaway car.

I sprinted, but before I got much closer, Eddie called to me, “Don’t, Faith.” He turned toward the lights. “They’re too close. If I get away, you’ll know where the money will be. If I don’t...”

He gave me that confident smile. I remember it because it was so completely out of place with the sirens and lights approaching.

“If I don’t, I guess you’ll know where to find me.”

Then the smile was gone. There was just the acrid smell of tire smoke and the battle between the Chevy’s engine and the sirens.

My heart must have been shuffling around with the stolen money, because I thought I would die right there. I almost dropped to my knees as he drove away. Later on, I’d understand with complete certainty why he did it. At that moment, though, I thought my world was over.

It was a tragedy watching the Chevy Cavalier speed away. Eddie pulled onto the road the cops were coming down. Again, later on, I’d understand what he was doing, but at that moment, I was without a sane thought in my head. My man was driving away, leaving me alone,
abandoning me
.

It was the closeness of the siren’s wail that snapped me out of it. It wasn’t on me yet, but I knew I had to move.

I turned and ran across the street into an alley behind a church. Once I was behind the building, I ripped the wig (and some of my own hair) off, tossing it into a dumpster. I fought with the rubber cement, but managed to peel off the scar on my cheek.

My change of clothes was in the backseat of the car which had just vanished, and I knew that the place would be teeming with police any moment. I pulled the suit jacket off, throwing it in the dumpster with the rest of the disguise.

Peeking out past the dumpster, I saw some of the cops follow Eddie God knows where, and some hung a right toward the bank. I pulled out of view as they passed. I had a good two blocks’ clearance, but I needed more. Way more.

Even in heels, I began to run through the alley. Two weeks hadn’t given me much of a grasp of the town’s geography, but I knew how to get back to Esther and Matt’s from the bank. It was a five-mile hike.

At the end of the alley, I saw the church’s parking lot. A donation shack sat near the road, and I headed toward it. I got there just in time to duck behind it as two more police cars rolled past, sirens and lights at full blast.

Once they turned toward the bank, I pushed open the swinging doors, hoping to find something. I was in luck. The little shed was half full. A bag of clothes sat near the top of the discarded mountain of minutia.

I leaned in, my feet leaving the ground. Pulling a sweater off of the top of the bag, I dug around inside. It was all men’s clothes, but I found a few things that would have to do. Behind the donation shed, I stripped off the professional blouse and skirt, tossing them back inside.
An even trade,
I thought, pulling the athletic shorts up my legs.

The t-shirt extolled the virtues of Lynyrd Skynyrd, but at least it was a size small so I didn’t swim in it. I leaned in once more, hoping and praying to find some shoes, but I didn’t spot any.

At the last second, I used an old copy of
Atlas Shrugged
to knock a few bags out of the way. I spotted my prize, but it was a far reach to grab them. I was more inside than out, and had to push off the floor to get my top half vertical again, but I managed.

I dropped the flip flops to the ground and kicked off my heels. They went into the donation bin along with the rest of the professional attire. I probably looked like a slob, but the cops wouldn’t be looking for a long-haired brunette in workout clothes. They’d be looking for a professional blonde with a bob and a small scar on her cheek.

I wished for a restroom so I could wipe the makeup off my face, but time was fighting against me. The heat of the sun and the walk would take care of my makeup soon enough, though. I began to beat the streets back toward Esther’s house and away from the sirens and ruckus at the bank.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait for the heat of California to sweat my makeup off. The tears were doing a fine job all on their own.

As I slowly counted down the five miles, I was bringing the t-shirt up to my eyes over and over again. I looked more like I’d been repainting a room rather than working out. Mascara was surely running down my cheeks, but I didn’t care.

Watching Eddie peel away was the most painful thing I’d ever seen. I knew why he did it, but my brain wasn't in any mood to hear rational thoughts. I pictured him speeding away from the police North toward Lake Isabella. The roads wound through the mountains, so I was sure he could lose them before getting back to the Harley. From there, I knew he’d be all right.