Rescued by the SEAL Davenport, Fiona (most recommended books txt) 📖

trust. Before turning around, I zipped my jacket to keep them from spotting the Glock in my shoulder holster.

I dragged my gaze away from Cora, and as soon as she was out of my line of sight, my brain finally kicked into gear. I shoved away the rage and jealousy that coursed through me when she mentioned dating another man. I’d figure that shit out later. I needed to focus on what was going on since I’d been too distracted to notice what had been about to happen in the first place.

My eyes scanned the room, cataloging every detail. Four robbers dressed in black and wearing ski masks: all men from the looks of their build. I memorized their height, weight, and any other distinguishing features I could see.

Between the four of them, they were packing four M4A1 automatic rifles and four openly visible Desert Eagle handguns. I clocked two more handguns, both shoved into the back of two of the robbers’ pants.

As I watched their movements, one barred the door and lowered the shades while another collected cell phones from the patrons and instructed them where to sit. At the same time, one disappeared into the back—presumably to flush out any other employees—and the last one tossed an Army green duffel bag to each teller and demanded they fill them from their tills.

Their actions were well-coordinated, and they moved in sync with each other, suggesting they were a crew who worked together frequently. I doubted many would have spotted their earpieces, but I’d seen the best of the best when it came to equipment in my job.

The tall, skinny guy corralling the patrons pushed us all into a corner and told us to sit down. After the rest of the employees were ushered over to join us, a guy built like a brick house—I could tell he was the one in charge—made a hand signal, and they grabbed the bank manager by the arm, lifting him to his feet and escorting him to the back.

The tellers were told to sit with the rest of us, and Cora hurried over to drop down beside me. I put my arm around her and tucked her close to my side. She glanced up, but I shook my head when she looked as though she might speak.

One of the two men left in the lobby touched his ear for a moment, then his gaze scanned over the hostages, eventually landing on Cora.

Fuck!

I wasn’t about to go John McClane on his ass and risk anyone getting hurt, but it took everything in me to let Cora go when he stalked over and demanded she stand. Her frightened eyes met mine before he squeezed her arm and dragged her to the back.

The remaining robber was slowly pacing the room, his rifle resting on his shoulder. He did a sweep of the area every few minutes, including a lingering glance out the window on the opposite side from us.

Whenever his eyes left the hostages, I scooted backward inch by inch. I knew I was an intimidating presence, and most people tended to let me lead in any situation without even realizing it. So, it wasn’t surprising when the crowd parted a little at a time, allowing me to make my way to the back. Then they swallowed the hole. I was impatient, but I kept myself in check, knowing that too much too fast would bring my movement to the robbers’ attention.

Once I was behind everyone, I crouched low and slowly unzipped my jacket. Being a SEAL, stealth had become a habit, and I carried a suppressor with my subsonic 9mm. I withdrew both and screwed the silencer on.

A few of the hostages were gazing at me with worried expressions, and a nervous few looked as though they might cause a ruckus, drawing the robbers back into the room. I met their gazes with a look of authority and warning. Then I locked eyes with a few who looked like they could help keep them calm and lifted my chin. I received nods in return so I focused on the robber once more.

I held my weapon under my jacket, watching and waiting for the right opportunity. When the silence was broken by the sound of police sirens, the robber skipped his scan of us and walked over to the window to peek through the slatted shades.

Removing my pistol, I aimed and waited until the very last second, allowing the sirens to become louder and hopefully muffle the sound of my gunshot. Silencers only suppressed the noise so much, and I didn’t want the crew in the back to realize I’d taken out their man.

Thankfully, the criminal telegraphed his movements, and police cars had reached the building by the time he made a move to turn around. I slowly straightened and took aim. Before he noticed me, I had a clear shot and put a bullet in his temple. He dropped to the ground, and I shot another warning glance at a woman who tried to scream. Thankfully, someone pressed their hand over her mouth before she made a sound.

I made my way to the fallen robber, checking to make sure he was dead, even though I had no doubt. Then I removed both of his guns, unloaded them, and set them on a desk. When the phone rang, I thanked my lucky stars that I was standing right in front of it. I grabbed it up before the first ring was done.

The woman on the other side of the line introduced herself and asked who she was speaking with.

“Lieutenant Huntley Reed,” I replied in a low tone. “I’m with the other hostages in the front lobby. Currently unguarded because I took one of their men out.”

Before she could ask any more questions, which would only try my patience since I was used to efficiency, I gave her the rundown of everything I knew. The only time I nearly lost my cool was when I told her