Secret Admirer Page 10

  Dirk turned and shouted at the two bank officers staring wide-eyed from their glassed-in office areas. "You get out here, too, both a youse!" The women rose from their desks and came out into the main room.

  "Okay, now," growled Dirk once everyone was assembled. "Everybody flat on the floor, facedown." He waved the gun at Annie. '"Cept you, Annie. You get over here, by me."

  Though she'd rather have stuck her hand in a basket of rattlesnakes, Annie moved to Dirk's side. All around the room, folks dropped to their knees and then stretched out, faces to the floor.

  "Put yer hands behind yer heads and lace yer fingers, elbows out."

  They all obeyed.

  "Good. Now, none a youse make another move," Dirk warned out of the corner of his mouth, laying on the Cagney. "Or I'll blow yer brains to smithereens."

  "Put that weapon on the floor, young man." It was Mr. Apoupopolis, the bank's security guard. His .45 drawn and pointed at Dirk, the guard emerged from behind a potted ficus tree in the corner.

  Bless you, dear, sweet old Mr. Apoupopolis, Annie thought.

  But then, in a lightning-quick move, Dirk hooked an arm around her neck and hauled her right up against him. The barrel of that big, black gun dug into her temple. "Drop it. Or Annie's dead."

  Oh, great idea. Kill the one you say you love....

  Absolutely, positively. This could not be happening. Annie's heart was beating so hard she feared it would punch a hole in her chest. Her knees shook. Her hands and feet felt numb.

  "Drop it, I said," Dirk growled. "Now."

  Mr. Apoupopolis did as he was told.

  "Now kick it over there, against the far wall."

  The gun went spinning - away from all the stretched-out customers and bank employees.

  "Now get the hell over here and get down on the floor with yer hands behind yer head."

  Mr. Apoupopolis moved closer to the others and then dropped down to join them.

  Dirk gave Myrna a shove with the tip of his high-topped tennis shoe. "You. Get up." Quivering, making weak mewing sounds, Myrna scrambled to her feet. "Annie." Dirk's hot breath touched her ear. "There's a cloth bag stuck in the back of my belt. Take it out." Annie reached a shaking hand behind him and found the bag. "Give it to Myrna." She passed it to the other teller.

  Dirk took the gun away from Annie's head for a moment to wave it at Myrna. "Now, get back behind that counter." Myrna scuttled to do his bidding as he guided Annie around so they faced the teller area again. "Empty those drawers into the bag - and do it fast. No funny stuff."

  As Myrna went from station to station filling the bag, Dirk put his gun to Annie's side and pressed his sweaty cheek to hers. "I'm getting us outta here, Annie," he muttered. "You and me. Outta this town. You won't be livin' at your folks' house any longer, working here at the bank, taking lessons in flower arranging. Uh-uh. You'll be with me. We'll be outlaws, babe. It's gonna be one wild and crazy ride."

  Annie's stomach rolled. She felt her lunch rise toward her throat and had to gulp it back down. Oh, God. Dirk had always been totally harmless - until now. What had gone wrong? Could what she'd said to him yesterday actually have driven him round the bend?

  She dared to speak. "Dirk. Please. I told you I didn't - "

  "Shut up," He jabbed the gun into her side - hard. "I know you love me, whatever you say." He scowled at Myrna. "Get a move on." Myrna emptied the final drawer and scurried back around the end of the counter holding the bag full of cash. "Here. Give it here."

  Myrna whimpered and shoved the bag toward Dirk.

  "Annie. Take it." Dirk drilled the gun into her ribs again to emphasize the order. She'd be black and blue there tomorrow - if she lived that long.

  She tried, one more time, to get through to him.

  "Dirk. Listen, I - " He jabbed her with the gun again. "Ow!"

  "You want to draw your next breath, then do like I say."

  Annie took the bag.

  "Drop," Dirk said to Myrna, who instantly assumed the proper position on the floor. "Okay, babe." Dirk planted a sweaty kiss on Annie's cheek and raised the gun to her temple again. "Let's get the hell outta this dump." He scanned the floor and all the terrified people spread out there. "None a youse move if you want to keep on breathing." Each word dripped with fake-Cagney menace. "Come on," he said to Annie, and hauled her around to face the door.

  He was dragging her toward it when a police officer came in through the main vestibule, duty pistol drawn and ready.

  It was Greg!

  Annie's pounding heart stopped dead in her chest - and then lurched to pounding life again. How can this be happening? Annie asked herself desperately for about the tenth time. This just can't be real....

  Greg had his gun trained on Dirk. "Let her go, Jenkins."

  Dirk only tightened his stranglehold on Annie - and turned his gun on Greg. "Annie's with me now, Flynn. Get down on the floor."

  Slowly, Greg shook his head.

  "What are you, crazy? I'll kill you, just watch me."

  Still, Greg refused to drop. Instead, to Annie's abject horror, he bolstered his pistol and began to stride slowly and deliberately toward her and Dirk.

  "Back," Dirk growled, shaking and sweating worse than ever. "Not one more step."

  Annie couldn't keep silent. "Greg," she pleaded. "Don't..."

  But Greg only kept coming. He looked from the gun Dirk had pointed at his broad chest, into Dirk's eyes and back to the gun again. The strangest half smile curved the mouth that Annie had only last Friday so thoroughly kissed. "Jenkins." He actually shook his head and softly advised, "Give it up."

  "Yer dead," Dirk muttered - and fired.

  Myrna screamed as a thin jet of water erupted from the barrel of Dirk's gun and wet the front of Greg's khaki uniform.

  Chapter 2

  …squirt gun," Myrna marveled, checking her hair and makeup in the magnifying mirror she always kept close at hand. "Dirk Jenkins just held up the bank with a squirt gun!"

  By then, two other officers of Red Rock's small police department had arrived on the scene and led Dirk away - to get him the psychological help he so clearly needed, they said.

  Greg stayed behind to get the facts as to what had occurred before he arrived. He conducted interviews with Myrna, most of the other employees and several customers.

  Mr. Apoupopolis took off his uniform hat and shook his silver head. "Don't I feel like a damn fool? But that pistol looked like the real thing to me."

  A murmur of agreement went up. "Yeah, I would have sworn it was."

  "Scared ten years off my life..."

  "I thought it was real, and I knew by the look in those shifty eyes that he meant to use it."

  "And he did!"

  That brought a laugh. Not from Annie, though. She was looking at Greg and he was looking back at her.... She wanted more than anything to run to him, to fling herself into his strong arms. But she didn't. She stayed right where she was. Somehow, now that she knew she wasn't going to die, she was finding it as impossible as ever to show him how she really felt.

  He spoke to her, two words: "You okay?"

  "Fine," she lied.

  And that was it. He looked away and Annie glanced down at her hands. They were shaking. That gun had looked so real! She'd honestly believed for about half a second there that Dirk had killed Greg.

  Myrna looked up from her magnifying mirror, lipstick poised.. "So, Greg..." Myrna had gone to Red Rock High and graduated the same year as Greg. She'd always flirted with him every chance she got. Right then, she was shamelessly batting her thickly mascaraed eyelashes in his direction. "How in the world did you know it was only a squirt gun?"

  Greg shrugged. "My nephew, Leon, has one just like it."

  "Amazing," Myrna simpered, and let out a big fat sigh. Annie tried not to glare at her. Really, she couldn't blame Myrna for going gaga over Greg. The guy was a total hunk - six foot four, shoulders for days, and boy, did he fill ou
t his uniform pants. Females of all ages had always drooled over him and probably always would.

  After the interviews, Greg hung around. He drank the bank's free coffee and chatted with Annie's supervisor and with Mr. Apoupopolis. Annie went about her business, acutely aware of his presence the whole time - and also kind of stunned that she was back at her station, handling deposits and withdrawals, everything more or less normal again, when she'd been certain twenty minutes before that by now she'd either be dead or hauled off to Lord-knew-where in Dirk's ancient Chevy Luv pickup.

  Annie's workday ended at six. She closed out, grabbed her purse and headed for the door to a chorus of see-you-tomorrows and a quick thank-you from her boss, Aleta Andrews, for having the presence of mind to hit the silent-alarm button at the crucial moment.

  Greg fell in beside her. He slipped an arm around to push the vestibule door open for her, then moved ahead to get the outer door, too. "You walk over?" He knew she always did, weather permitting.

  She gulped and managed to answer, "Yeah," a heated thrill shooting through her just to be at his side. They emerged into the bright May sunshine and she slanted him a glance. He was looking straight ahead.

  Was he avoiding her eyes? Her heart sunk at the thought. But no. He was here. Beside her. He was taking her home. And they would talk. She'd tell him...every thing.

  What was in her heart. What she longed for. What she'd dreamed of practically all her life.

  They reached the Blazer with the Red Rock Police Department logo on the side panel. He opened the door for her, as he had done when they came out of the bank. She looked at his strong, tanned hand gripping the door handle, at the golden hairs shining on the back of it....

  And memories of Friday night washed over her in a warm, arousing wave. He had touched her everywhere, that same brown hand cupping her breast and then moving lower, causing her to moan and cry out in delight.

  She felt the pressure of tears scalding the back of her throat. After all these years, finally, they'd shared a beautiful, unforgettable night.

  But then, Saturday morning, everything went wrong.

  "Get in," he said.

  Annie gulped down the tears and jumped up to the seat. Greg shut the door.

  As he'd been doing all weekend and that whole never-ending Monday, Greg Flynn cursed himself for a rotten dirty dog.

  He'd taken advantage of Annie in the worst way possible: he'd taken her to bed.

  He'd also loved every minute of it.

  Couldn't stop thinking about it...

  Saturday, he'd tried to apologize, but it hadn't gone so well.

  Mentally, Greg called himself twenty kinds of low-down, stinking, sorry-assed skunk. Damn it to hell, he felt so bad, he could hardly even bring himself to meet those big brown eyes of hers - and she didn't seem to want to look at him, either. She stared out her side window. They drove the short distance to her place in a silence so total, it echoed in his ears like a siren's wail.

  Annie's mother, Naomi, came flying out of the rambling, ranch-style main house, a dish towel trailing from one hand, when Greg pulled the Blazer into the driveway. Annie barely got her feet on the ground before Naomi was grabbing her and wrapping her in anxious arms.

  "Are you okay? Oh, baby. I just got off the phone with Patty." Patty Flynn, who lived two houses down, was Greg's mother - and Naomi's best friend for the past three decades or so. "Patty said that Lou Lynn Brakefield said that Taffy Miers said that Sherrilee Anderson was at the bank today when that strange Jenkins boy came in and- - "

  "Mom." Annie managed to wriggle free of Naomi's embrace. "Mom. It's okay. Everything worked out all right." She stood back, held her arms wide and looked down at herself. "See? I'm fine."

  "Oh, thank the Lord." Naomi shot an adoring glance at Greg. Somehow, to have Naomi look at him like that made him feel like more of a scum-sucking creep than ever. "And Greg, thank God you got over there. Even if that gun wasn't the real thing, everybody thought it was. That crazy boy could have whisked Annie off to heaven knows where. Anything might have happened if you hadn't - "

  Greg waved a hand. "Like Annie said. It all turned out fine. Nobody got hurt and nothing was stolen."

  Naomi sniffled. "You just get over here," she commanded.

  Dutifully, he went to Annie's mother and let her give him a hug. Naomi was a small woman, about five foot one, several inches shorter than her daughter. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed hard. He looked down at her red head - same color as Annie's, but curlier and threaded now with gray. "Thank you," she whispered.

  He took her gently by her kid-size shoulders. "It was no big deal."

  She gazed up at him as if he'd brought the moon down from the sky and laid it in her little hands. "Thank you," she said again, stepping back, tipping that chin that was so like Annie's to an insistent angle. She swept her dish towel toward the front door. "Y'all come on in. Have some cold tea."

  Annie answered for both of them. "Mama, not right now. Greg and I have to talk."

  "About the incident at the bank," Greg added too quickly. That drew a startled look from Annie. He slid his gaze away from hers and focused on Naomi. "Strictly routine. But I still have a report to fill out."

  "Oh, well, then. Drop by later if you've a mind."

  "Thanks," Greg said, keeping it noncommittal. He wasn't in any kind of mood to be coddled by Naomi - let alone having to face Annie's dad, Ted Grant, who trusted him and counted on him to look after his baby girl.

  Naomi caught her daughter's hand. "You're sure you're all right, hon?"

  "Positive." Annie squeezed Naomi's fingers and then gently pulled free.

  "All right, then. All right..." Naomi headed for the door, dish towel fluttering in the warm May breeze. Greg and Annie stood there in the driveway, watching her go to keep from looking at each other.

  When she disappeared inside, Annie turned to him. "Come on, then." She sounded pretty grim - not that he blamed her. "Let's go to my apartment."

  Annie's place was over the Grant's three-car garage. Ted Grant had built it for Annie's older brother, Hank, the year Hank turned eighteen, so that he could live at home but still have his freedom. Hank had lived there until the accident, seven years ago. And now it was Annie's.

  An outside stairway led up to a wide covered landing furnished with wicker chairs, plump cushions and lots of potted plants, all feminine and pretty. All Annie. When Hank had the place, the chairs had been molded plastic, not a potted plant in sight.

  Annie led Greg inside.

  The moment the door closed behind him, he wanted to spin on his heel, yank it back open and get the hell out of there. Everywhere he looked reminded him of Friday night - the cream-colored sofa where he had first kissed her, the jut of counter that marked off the kitchen. He'd backed her up against that counter and...

  Don't go there. Get it out of your head.

  Annie asked kind of hesitantly, "You want a beer or something?"

  He did. He wanted a river of beer, enough beer to wash away the too-sweet memories, enough to get himself falling-down, blackout drunk, enough to make him forget what he'd done - and what he was damn well never going to do again.

  "No, thanks. Not on duty."

  "On duty?" Her face flushed an angry red. Even the cute dusting of freckles across her nose looked mad. She said his name - his whole name. "Gregory Stephen Flynn. What are you saying to me?"

  Defensiveness tightened his gut. "Well, just what I said to your mom. That I have to talk to you about Dirk Jenkins and the attempted robbery and kidnapping."

  Those brown eyes gleamed with anger. "Excuse me. You needed to be alone with me to talk to me about poor Dirk and his squirt gun? What makes me so special? You interviewed everyone else right there in the bank."

  Damned if she didn't have a point. But the thought of questioning her with half the town looking on, and all those Friday-night memories bouncing around in his brain... He just couldn't d
o it. He baldly lied, "I thought you'd be more comfortable if we talked in private."

  "Comfortable." She was looking at him as if he'd just poisoned her old cat, Muffy, who right then came strolling in from the bedroom, thick gray tail held high. Annie scooped the cat up and scratched her behind the ear. Muffy purred in ecstasy, the only one in the room who looked the least bit happy. "You thought wrong," Annie added flatly. She set Muffy down and turned for the kitchen area.

  He watched her walking away from him, her slim shoulders back and her head held high, that long, silky red hair swaying with each step.

  Greg loved her hair. Always had. Friday night, he'd had his hands in it, buried his face in it, breathed in the clean, warm, sunshiny smell of it. It had poured through his fingers, trickled over his arm, tickled his chest when she -

  Stop thinking about Friday night. "Listen. If you'd rather come down to the station - "

  She halted at the refrigerator and sent him a frosty look. "You're here now. Let me feed Muffy and we can get it over with."

  Dead silence, except for the popping sound as she pulled the ring off the cat-food can, the plop as she dropped the contents into Muffy's bowl, the clunk as she put the bowl on the floor and the tiny meow of glee from Muffy. Annie rinsed the can, tossed it in the bin under the sink, slammed the cabinet door a little harder than necessary and then marched around the jut of counter toward him again.

  She flung out a hand in the direction of the couch, the glass coffee table and the two matching armchairs grouped together near the front window. "Sit down."

  He trudged over and dropped into one of the chairs.

  Once he was seated, she moved to the end of the couch and perched on the edge. "All right," she said, back ramrod straight, hands folded tight in her lap. "Interview me."

  He waded in. "I just need you to tell me what happened. From the beginning."

  "There's nothing to tell that you don't already know. Dirk walked into the bank, came straight to my window and stuck a gun in my face. A squirt gun, as it turned out. But I wasn't aware of that at the time."

  "What did he say?"

  '"Don't move, don't talk”... something like that. He told me to come out from behind the counter. But I didn't, not right away. I managed to push the alarm without him noticing. Then he told me to put my hands up. I did. Myrna looked over and saw he had the gun. She screamed - and I think, the rest, you know."