“You think I wanted to give Frayn’s kid up?” he asks, and oh, shit.
One of the adults. They must’ve blabbed without realizing they were blabbing. Had the teller asked about Casey? I couldn’t blame her, but she couldn’t have kept her mouth shut about the kid being related to the bank manager?
Still, I try not to feel too hostile, because if it was the teller who spilled, she’s probably the hurt one.
I can’t think the dead one. Not yet. Not without proof. Wishful thinking? Absolutely. I’m hanging on to it.
“Yeah, I figured it out,” he says.
Denying it will make him angrier. I don’t want that. I need to bring him down and then build him up. His ego’s not just bruised; I battered it. He wants to take that out on me.
“If I say too little, too late, are you gonna hit me again?” I put just enough shake into my voice to make his mouth twitch.
“You conned me.”
“I was very clear who I am.”
His hand rises, and I jerk; it’s not fake or practiced. It’s one hundred percent real, and my mouth throbs at the idea of more damage. My cheek is swelling up, but luckily he got me in my lower jaw, so my vision isn’t messed up. Yet.
“Who did you hurt?” I ask again.
“Why does it matter?”
I bite the inside of my swollen cheek to keep from screaming, the pain more than a little mind clearing. If he’s just attacking people to blow off steam, we are so fucked. If he starts shooting, the deputies will find a way in. Or Lee will tear the bricks apart with her bare hands to get to me.
“Why do you care so much?” he persists.
“I’d like to get out of here before anyone important shows up.”
“You care,” he says, with the kind of stubborn awe that tells me I am fucked. “You’re smooth. You didn’t even try to get me to hand you over to the cops. You could have. But you protected the kid.”
“She’s a kid.”
“Stone-cold bitch like you shouldn’t mind that. You left a mess in Florida, but you got free. Why aren’t you trying to get free now?”
He’s skirting too close to the truth. I want to wrench away from him—he’s still gripping my arm, holding me too close, and now I know why: He wants to look into my eyes. He thinks they’ll tell him something.
“I don’t want to get caught in the crossfire, is that so weird? It’s not like the deputies out there get a ton of storm the bank training around here between traffic stops and busting pot grows. And your friend is trigger-happy.”
“I didn’t shoot anyone.” The yet hangs there, unspoken, but so clear. I have no idea how to flip this. I gave away what he wanted. But why does he need leverage over the bank manager when he’s got the welding machine?
The safe-deposit box keys. The ones I found in the manager’s office. They’re still tucked in my bra.
Gray Cap thinks the manager has them on him. He doesn’t think they’re in the bank. That’s why he’s so mad about Casey.
I lick my lips and take a step back. He doesn’t let me go, but he doesn’t step forward, his elbow straightening, allowing me the space. Good. Good. That’s good.
“Who did you hurt?” I soften my voice. “The teller?”
“She should’ve told me who the kid belonged to.” He almost smirks at his bad pun. “And you . . .” His grip tightens up again, and my teeth clench even as I try to keep my mouth soft. He wants to see pain. I’m not giving him that.
“I did you a favor,” I say stubbornly. “The news that a kid was inside would’ve brought in the big guys from Sacramento faster. It’s in your best interest to get out of here before SWAT comes.”
“And you’re all about my best interest?”
“Normally, no: I care about me. Unfortunately, that means I have to give a shit about you, because how did you put it? The guy with the gun never has to say sorry. The only reason you haven’t shot me is because I’m betting you’ve done the math and whatever score is waiting down in the basement is not even close to the seven million my stepfather will pay if you bring me back to Florida, all alive and grown up.”
“Sounds like a sweet deal,” he says. “But I know you’re trying to stall. It’s not gonna work. We’ll be out of here soon.”
I know he’s not talking about him and Red Cap. He knows I know he’s not talking about the two of them. He’s talking about him and me.