Page 6 of Guarding Truth

One of the robbers, the shortest of the men, took a can of spray paint to the fancy artwork. Blood-red paint dripped down the side of one of the paintings as the man etched one word.

Rushmore.

The spray painter joined the other masked man in the back room, presumably to force a bank employee to open the safe. That left Twitchy and one other beefy guy, who looked like he lived in a gym, to guard the lobby. If she was going to make a move, it needed to be now.

Two against one? She’d faced bigger odds than that.

Juliette wasn’t a wait-and-see-what-happens kind of woman. She acted first, then thought about the ramifications later. No way would she let innocent people be hurt on her watch. She was a bodyguard, and she mentally took on twelve new clients.

She glanced at Noelle, sending her a silent message of her intent to intervene.

Noelle squinted and shook her head. She mouthed,Are you crazy?

Juliette shrugged. No way would she cower on the ground while these men took what they wanted and threatened innocent civilians. Now, what could she use as a weapon? Juliette searched the room and spotted an award proudly displayed on the corner of a desk a few feet behind her. The crystal trophy had “best customer service” engraved across the front, but what caught Juliette’s eye was the sharp point at the top of the keepsake. Heavy and sharp—just what she needed for the perfect improvised weapon. She inched her way to the desk and waited until the bulkier of the two men headed toward the back of the bank.

“Do you really think you’ll get away with this?” Juliette stood, faced the bad guy. The man swung his gun in her direction.

“Down. Now.”

Noelle stood. “Listen, just let the people go. You don’t want to hurt anyone.” The second the gunman took his eyes off Juliette, she grabbed the award and rushed the man. He was a hair too slow, and Juliette clocked him in the head with the corner of the crystal before he had a chance to get a shot off. Noelle kicked the gun from his hand.

A few bank customers cheered from their positions on the floor. But this wasn’t over. One down, three to go.

Sirens wailed in the distance. Juliette went to grab Twitchy’s gun. The man clutched the gun but held his sleeve over his forehead to staunch the blood from where the award had clipped him. But a voice stopped her in her tracks.

“They called the cops?” The three men rushed from the back of the bank, guns blazing. Juliette and Noelle held their hands up.

“Back on the ground,” one of the men growled, pointing a gun in Noelle’s face. Juliette and Noelle hit the floor and lay on their stomachs, hands over their heads.

The man Juliette assumed to be the ringleader of the group jumped up on a desk. She noted his blue eyes and pale skin peeking through the eyeholes of his mask.

“Listen up!” The man angled himself right in front of a security camera. He sent a shot into the ornate chandelier in the middle of the room, sending shards of crystal scattering. Shrieks tore through the room, and patrons covered themselves the best they could.

“We are Rushmore.” The man’s deep gravelly voice commanded the room amidst a few muffled sobs. “The CEO who runs this bank is Edward McMillan. He stole money from the people, and we’re here to claim what belongs to the hard-working citizens. The courts might not have convicted him, but we will.”

It would have been hard to have missed the news of Edward McMillan’s acquittal for fraud and other unethical practices. The story had been blasted by all the twenty-four-hour news outlets for days. But that didn’t demand this demonstration of vigilante justice.

The bank robber in charge stuck his hand in a backpack, pulled out a wad of cash, and threw it in the air. Hundred-dollar bills scattered everywhere. From her position on the floor, Juliette watched the four men waltz out the front door, strolling like they were on vacation and not fleeing a bank robbery. Money rained down around them like confetti.

Juliette and Noelle were on their feet the second the door banged shut behind the thieves. “What was that?” Noelle looked at Juliette.

Juliette turned to peer through the front window. People began congregating in front of the bank, scooping up the money.

“I have no idea who Rushmore is.” Juliette nodded to the back room. “Hopefully the police get here soon, but I’m going to check to make sure no one is injured.”

Patrons began to stand and brush glass off themselves. Juliette walked to the vault room and saw the security guard on the floor. He was conscious, and she helped him to an office chair.

“Are you hurt? Do you know what’s happening?” Juliette tempered her desire to pepper him with more questions. But she wanted to make sure the man didn’t have any injuries that required immediate medical attention.

“I’m Daniel Archer, security guard on the nighttime watch. It all happened so fast. They forced me to open the safe. One man hit me on the head, and the next thing I know, I saw you.” He touched the golf-ball-sized lump forming on his head. Tall, mid-thirties, with an athletic build, the man should have been able to put up a vicious fight before going down, but it hadn’t looked like any of the gunmen had been injured.

“Do you know what they wanted?” Noelle asked.

“Looks like they wanted the cash,” Daniel said. “It’s the second branch they’ve hit this week.”

Noelle squinted her eyes, mirroring Juliette’s own thoughts. Bank robberies were hard to pull off with all the security measures banks had in place. These men had waltzed through the front door and grabbed a bunch of cash only to throw it away.

And who was Rushmore?

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