Page 86 of Rescued Dreams
TWENTY-NINE
“You really think I’m going to just do whatever you say?” Amelia stared at her brother, a sick feeling in her stomach. She’d always disliked him because he had been nothing but horrible. She tried not to hate, but the amount of pain that had been dished out in her direction by him and others…
She’d have every right to be bitter at the world if she allowed it.
But something told her that if she did that, if she succumbed to the justification to hate, she would turn into a shriveled-up version of herself. If it went on long enough, she would never be able to come back to the kind of person she wanted to be.
So as she stood there, staring at her brother, she tried to feel nothing. She wanted to feel sorry for him, that he’d wasted his whole life working toward this.
She wanted Ridge.
Her brother jerked toward her. “You’lldowhatever I tell you to.”
“I’ll sign my half over to the women’s shelter in town. The church. The foundation that saves stray cats and nurses them back to health. Anyone who wants it can have a donation from me. Anyoneexceptyou.”
His arm swung out toward her. She tried to flinch away, but it was too fast. The butt of his gun slammed against the side of her head.
Amelia blinked and realized she was on her hands and knees.
Knocked down, but not out.
How many times in her life had she been forced to get back up?
She’d lost count.
Amelia stared at the industrial-style carpet on the floor of the manager’s office, her head pounding with pain. Her blonde hair hanging down on either side of her face. A nail chipped. The mother of all headaches ricocheted around her skull.
She sat back on her heels and braced her hand on the edge of the desk when she swayed. There was barely enough room to turn around in here. The manager sat at the desk, and she could see his feet under it, curled back with his ankles crossed in a defensive position.
He was nervous.
She looked over the desk and saw the fear on his face. Sweat rolling down his heavy jowls.
Elam said, “Is it done?”
He nodded, his cheeks wobbling. “It’s printing now.”
“Good. I’ll need the safe open so y’all can get me my money.” Elam backed up two steps and turned around to face the bank lobby. “All right?—”
A swarm of police officers in SWAT gear raced into the room, spread out so that it seemed like they filled every spare inch, and started to call out.
“Police, hands up!”
“Hands up!”
“Drop that weapon!”
“Freeze! I said, freeze!”
Amelia backed up, clapping her hands over her ears. She wouldn’t have been surprised if Elam had turned his gun on the cops and ensured they killed him. But he didn’t. He froze, held the gun where the cops could see it, and set it on the floor when instructed.
He wanted the money.
Even if he had to wait until he was out of jail again to get it.
Amelia lowered her hand and heard a choking sound from the manager’s direction. She glanced over, spotted the telltale gasping. Clutching his chest, confused why his arm hurt. “Medic!” She screamed the word and ran to the manager. “What’s your name?”
She grabbed his wrist with one hand to feel for a pulse, and with the other, tore the top couple of shirt buttons free. He gasped, but his eyes rolled back in his head. “I’m a firefighter and an EMT.” Her head still pounded, but it didn’t matter when a man’s life hung in the balance. A man who had just passed out.
