Bestial Read Free

getting a little loving on the side.
    Rick said to Chesya, “Get to it. I want that vault open quick as shit.”
    “Lovely phrase,” she drawled, working the big dial.
    “Careful, you don’t wanna piss me off.”
    “I imagine it’s pretty easy to do.”
    Rick bristled, wanting to hit her, but she had finished with the combination, and he could hear the sound of the big security bar withdrawing from the floor and ceiling. She was already working on the locks, inserting the various keys, when the hair on the back of Rick’s neck stood up. Something was wrong.
    Glancing around the bank, he saw that Saul had nearly finished emptying the drawers. The garbage bags bulged with the weight of the money. The idiot had even grabbed the rolls of coins, which would only weigh them down in the end. The hostages were still kneeling obediently; his men were still in charge; the manager was still unconscious. Outside the front windows, he could see the sunlight dissipating between the drawn blinds. It would be dark soon, and Jason was waiting outside in the getaway car. Everything seemed fine, so he turned back to the woman and the vault.
    She shivered for a second, turned her big eyes to him. “Someone just walked over my grave.”
    Surprised, he wanted to say that he’d just experienced the samesensation, but he kept quiet. It wouldn’t do to show weakness. Any kind of weakness.
    As she turned another lock, he asked, “You got a last name, Chesya?”
    “Why? You have some sick need to know who you’re holding a gun on?”
    “I like to know who I’m working with.”
    She laughed, then said, “Work? You call this work? Ha!”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “Mister, all I gotta do is open this here door for you. That’s it. I don’t plan on making nice with just any man who’s pointing a gun at my head.”
    “Oh, come on, we can be civil, can’t we?”
    There was a clank of keys, and a moan. Then the lock’s pins fell into position with a click, and the huge stainless-steel door eased open about a half inch.
    Rick turned to the woman. “Thank you,” he said.
    “Yeah. Whatever.”
    “You know, this attitude isn’t helping matters, lady. How about you grab those garbage bags and get your fat ass in here with me.”
    “You got another five or six minutes before the time lock deactivates,” she said. “Every night, seven-fifteen sharp. Didn’t you do your homework?”
    “This bastard’s got a timer on it? I didn’t think a Class III would …” He began yanking on the heavy door, but it didn’t budge any farther than that half-inch opening. Tugging harder, he realized it was useless.
    She nodded. “Yeah, it’s a new model. It only opens three times a day. Eight a.m., three p.m., and seven-fifteen. Then you still need the two sets of keys and the combination. If you’d robbed us at, say, five, ’stead of now, you’d only get the cash from the teller drawers up front.”
    “Jesus … okay, then. Shit! Okay, Chesya, you going to tell me your last name? May as well chat if we aren’t getting in there yet.”
    “Johnson,” she answered. “Chesya Johnson. And I’m still not going to be your friend.”
    “Fine with me.”
    “Just being neighborly,” she said, although her tone indicated otherwise.
    In the distance, a car alarm started blaring. Rick cursed, knowing that it would alert the police if it continued to honk. He was beginning to think this was a jinxed heist. Too many things going wrong at the same time.
    “You got family, Chesya?”
    “No. Just me and myself.”
    “You aren’t gonna do anything stupid, are you?”
    She looked at him. “My mother didn’t raise any fools. I want to get home in one piece as much as you do. Probably more.”
    “That’s good, then.”
    She looked him up and down, this man who was forcing her to rob her own workplace, this man who held a gun on her. He wasn’t bad looking. Sandy, blond hair, a bit of gray at the temples, high cheekbones. He looked muscular