Hot Pursuit by Christina Skye Read Free Book Online Page B

casual.
    â€œAnd what did you ask for? Maybe I have it.” The man’s voice ran over her like greasy fingers.
    Uh-oh.
“Water,” Taylor said coldly. “Pellegrino water, I mean. And good chocolate. The Belgian kind,” she added. “Dark, no milk chocolate.”
    Once it was clear they didn’t have what she wanted, she would head for the door. Then she could call 911 on her cell phone.
    But the big man in the sweatshirt had other plans. He gave a little upward twitch of anger. “Water, old man. The lady wishes for the bubbly kind, yes?” As he spoke in accented English, he glanced toward the side of the store. The stocky man in the denim jacket had moved up behind Harris Rains.
    â€œWater, we have.” The clerk stood doggedly by the register. “But American kind only. And American chocolate only. Better the lady goes now.”
    Without warning, the man with the sweatshirt shoved the shopkeeper against the narrow counter. Taylor saw his hand slip into his front pocket.
    Not a gun. People pulled guns in the books she wrote, in scenes summoned from her imagination—not in living, breathing reality, inches away from her. The worst crime she’d ever witnessed up close had been an old woman trying to stuff Manolo Blahnik heels into her purse during Nordstrom’s annual summer sale.
    Toto, I think we’re a loooong way from Nordstrom’s.
    At the back of the store, the man in the denim jacket was speaking quietly to Rains, whose face was sheet-white.
    Taylor watched in shock as the man caught Rains in a wrestling hold and shoved him against the wall, searching his jacket. Taylor didn’t move, feeling the outline of her cell phone deep in her pocket as the man in the torn gray sweatshirt gestured angrily to his accomplice at the back of the store.
    â€œFinish it now,” he ordered. “We must go before they use the silent alarm.” Sweatshirt glared at the elderly Asian, shoving him against the counter again. “Is that right, old man? Did you just hit the alarm button?”
    â€œNo alarms here.” The old clerk shook his head forcefully.
    â€œOn second thought, American water will be fine,” Taylor said quickly. “Any kind will do.” As she spoke, she smiled and fingered the cell phone in her leather jacket. 911 calls via cell phone were automatically traced, and she prayed that the conversation would be audible through her pocket. “I’ll just take two of these little bottles right here on the shelf and be on my way.” She set two bottles of water firmly on the counter.
Business as usual. Ignore the psycho glaring at you.
“Can you ring that up, please?” she asked the frightened clerk. “I really need to get going.”
    Sweatshirt Man wasn’t having any of it. He hit the water bottles, knocking them to the floor. “Nobody will go anywhere until we’re done.”
    At the far side of the store, the man in denim gripped Rains’ arms and searched his pants pockets.
    Sweatshirt looked at Taylor. “A pretty lady like you should have whatever thing she wishes. I will help you, no?”
    Taylor stiffened. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”
    The odd, restless eyes scanned the store. There was intelligence behind the cold energy, Taylor realized. There was also a plan at work. “Maybe you like to take a trip.”
    Taylor took a quick step back, only to feel a display case behind her. “Stay away from me.” When the man kept coming, she reacted without thinking, hurling her purse wildly toward him. But in her panic, the purse flew wide, sailing through the air and striking Harris Rains on the shoulder.
    Across the room, the pregnant woman fainted, knocking down a row of soda cans, which exploded across the floor. The man in the sweatshirt scowled, nodding at the third man in sunglasses, who pulled out a knife.
    The old man shot forward. “
No
. Leave her