“You still carry that thing?” Riggs asked.
“Of course.”
The very corners of his mouth quirked slightly. “What else is in there?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Tae looked at Ms. Riley. “We good?”
“Everything, Tae Holmes.”
Tae sighed and pulled out a just-in-case tampon. “There. Happy?”
“Not until the kid empties his pockets.”
The kid shook his head.
Tae eyed him. She’d been right. He looked to be barely fourteen, and he was definitely still a flight risk. “Listen,” she told him. “She’s not kidding, okay? Whatever you’ve got in there is way less dangerous than Ms. Riley with a gun, trust me.”
He shifted on his feet and yep, it was in the whites of his wide eyes. He was going to bolt. “No!” she cried. “Don’t—”
The little idiot darted for the door.
Ms. Riley swung her gun his way.
Riggs dove for Ms. Riley—and the gun.
And suddenly life became a slow-motion movie montage. Riggs literally flying through the air toward the locked and loaded gun. The kid running faster than the speed of light. Ms. Riley taking aim . . .
On Tae’s left was a bank of coolers holding last-minute items like eggs, milk, soda. On her right was a display of beer, the cans stacked like a castle turret against the endcap. She snatched a can and flung it, beaning the kid right between the shoulder blades. He went down just as Ms. Riley’s gun went off with an earsplitting BOOM.
Immediately on its heels came a shattering sound, and more ceiling tile rained down on them, and glass from the lights. Everyone but Ms. Riley hit the floor. Tae felt a piece of something, either part of the ceiling or a shard of glass, smack her in the face. Raising her head, her eyes locked on Riggs as he got to his feet. No big hole in him anywhere, thankfully. She crawled through the ceiling debris, insulation, and broken glass on the floor to the kid, who hadn’t moved. “Hey, are you okay?”
Riggs tried to nudge her aside, voice gruff. “Careful, we still don’t know if he’s armed.”
Tae patted the kid’s back, going for that bulge Riggs had seen, and lifted up his jacket to find a sweatshirt rolled around his waist. She glared at Riggs. “Some weapon.” Then she pulled two granola bars and a small carton of milk from the kid’s various pockets and sent Ms. Riley a scathing look. “Shame on you.”
“Stealing is stealing,” the woman said, not looking sorry in the least.
“I swear I’ll never do it again,” the kid whispered.
Tae stood, feeling an ache around one eye and the sting of glass cutting into her skin from several different places. Since she’d had worse, she ignored all of it and pulled the kid upright. Glass and bits of ceiling tile rained off them both to join the mess on the floor. Miraculously, the kid didn’t appear to be hurt. “You really picked the wrong place to steal from.”
He looked panicked, and tried to scramble free, but Riggs had him by the back of his jacket. “I was seventy cents short,” the kid burst out with. “My little sister’s been crying all day and there’s nothing in the apartment.”
Tae felt a clamp on her heart. She pushed one of her two twenties toward Ms. Riley. “Here. For what he’s got. Keep the change.” The other twenty she handed to the kid. “What’s your name?”
“Ty.”
“Okay, Ty. Go across the street to McGregor’s market. Make sure you pay this time.”
The kid nodded like a bobblehead as he took a step backward, keeping a wary eye on Ms. Riley.