A Texas Hero. Linda Warren
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her two-year marriage. It stunk. And blew all her dreams to hell.
Douglas Bauman, her ex-husband, did not know the meaning of the words forever and monogamy. Nor did he grasp the concept of the word divorce. After a year, he was still trying to weasel his way back into her life by manipulation, using their three-year-old daughter as leverage.
She swerved in and out of traffic like a Formula One driver, which she wasn’t. If she got one more ticket she wouldn’t be able to afford insurance. But thanks to her conniving ex, she was late.
Doug had Chloe every other weekend, and this was his weekend. As per his pattern, something had come up and he couldn’t pick up their daughter until noon. She told him to forget it and that she would be talking to her lawyer on Monday to change the custody agreement. Hanging up before he could respond gave her little satisfaction. Once again, she had to call her father to ask him to babysit, which took a strip off her pride because she did not get along with her stepmom, who was a Sue Sylvester of Glee double. Gayle shouldn’t be allowed around children.
Since Abby had to be at work at 8:15 a.m. and Doug had called at 7:15, she had few options. And it was a Saturday. Her friends had other plans or liked to sleep in on the weekends. As did Gayle.
Her dad lived twenty-five minutes away in Barton Springs, while she lived near downtown Austin, Texas. She had to ask him to pick up Chloe because there was no other way if she was to make it to work on time. As usual, he agreed. He was a sweetheart. She just hated to cause friction in his marriage. But frantically looking for a babysitter would change once she spoke to her lawyer on Monday. She wasn’t putting up with any more of Doug’s crap.
The light ahead was yellow. She pressed on the gas, zooming through, hoping no cops were in sight. This wasn’t the first time Doug had bailed on keeping Chloe. It would be his last, though.
Her cell on the console buzzed and she pushed speaker phone. “Hi, Hol.”
“Hey, girl. You ready for tonight? Wear something low-cut and short.”
“I can’t go.” Since Doug had Chloe for the weekend, she and her friend had planned a girl’s night out. She’d known Holly all her life. They’d met in kindergarten.
“Don’t tell me he did it to you again?”
“Yes. I wish I had known you were up this early. I’d have dropped Chloe at your apartment. I had to call Dad again and you know how that goes.”
“Sorry. You need a better lawyer, that’s all. Someone who is not intimidated by the wealthy Baumans.”
“I was thinking the same thing. Since you’re a cop, maybe you can get me the name of a good lawyer just in case the one I have gives me any flak.”
“You bet.”
“Come over this afternoon and we’ll take Chloe swimming in the apartment complex pool. Bring your rubber duckie.”
“Oh, gee, I can hardly contain my excitement.”
“Damn!”
“What?”
“I missed my turn.” Without thinking, she slammed on the brakes. A loud thump followed that jarred her car.
“Damn!”
“What’s going on?”
“Someone just rear-ended me. I’ll call you later.” She jumped out into traffic to see a man inspecting the damage to the front of his truck. He turned to glare at her.
“Why the hell did you stop?”
The early-morning August sun beamed down on them, but more heat seemed to be emanating from the stranger, rolling off his tall, lean body in waves of controlled anger. And it was directed at her.
“I missed my turn and...”
“So you just stopped on a busy highway?” She could almost read stupid woman in his narrowed dark eyes. He flung a hand toward his truck. “You’re going to pay for this. This thing is new and you’ve scratched my bumper with your insane driving.”
“Your bumper? Look at my trunk!” She lost her cool for a second but she quickly corralled her rising temper. Glancing at her watch, she realized she had eight minutes to get to work. That put everything into perspective. She needed her job. “Follow me to that bank.” She pointed across the freeway. “I work there, and we can exchange information.” Turning on her heel, she marched to her car.
In her rearview mirror she saw the what-the-hell look on his etched-in-granite face. His dark hair was slicked back and wet as if he’d just gotten out of the shower or had an early-morning swim. He was dressed for the heat in cargo shorts, Crocs and a white T-shirt that had Don’t Mess With Me emblazoned on it. Yeah, she got the message. Jerk.
A slight clang echoed as she pulled away. She probably wouldn’t be able to open her trunk now and she’d have to ask her dad for help. She really needed to find a handy boyfriend, but these days she viewed most guys as jerks. Good guys were out there and she wasn’t giving up on finding one. But lately, that feeling of hope needed a resurrection. Maybe she could talk Holly into taking a mechanics class. Then she could fix her own vehicle. No man required.
She pulled into the parking lot of one of the branch convenient banks scattered across Austin. Mr. Harmon, the manager, pulled in beside her in his Buick. No sign of the big silver truck or the furious stranger. Had she lost him? That would be a stroke of luck, but luck was more inclined to slap her in the face.
“It’s going to be another scorcher today, Abby,” Mr. Harmon said as they walked to a side door. The man was in his sixties and after over thirty years in banking, he planned to retire in October and move to Florida to be near his daughter. He was easy to work for, and she would miss him.
“The weatherman said one hundred and two for the high today,” she replied.
“Oh, heavens. It’s a good thing we have air-conditioning.”
The silver truck pulled into the parking area and the stranger strolled toward them with long, sure strides. He exuded strength, power and control. From his sun-kissed skin to his amazing biceps, he was obviously a man of action and loved the outdoors. Or maybe he spent a lot of time in a gym and a tanning salon. Either way, the arrogant Neanderthal was not her type.
As the stranger approached, Mr. Harmon said, “I’m sorry, sir. Only the drive-through is available on Saturdays. It will be opened shortly and you...”
“Oh, sorry.” Abby hurried to explain. “I had a minor accident on the way here and I just needed to give him my insurance information.” She dug in her purse for her business card, found a pen and scribbled the info on the back. Handing him the card, she said, “Call me Monday and we’ll get everything straight.” And fix your itty-bitty scratch, she added as an afterthought in her head. She didn’t even want to think about her insurance rate going up.
He nodded and turned to walk away. The screech of tires drew their attention. A battered white van swerved into the lot and backed to the curb. The double doors flew open and two guys in Halloween masks holding handguns jumped out and ran to them.
“Open the door. Open the door!” they shouted.
A robbery!
Abby’s heart jackknifed into her throat. Mr. Harmon’s hand shook as he punched in the code and used his key to open the door. The robbers pushed them all inside.
The one wearing a gorilla mask pointed a gun at Mr. Harmon. “Open the vault. Now!”
Mr. Harmon’s fair skin turned even paler, but he managed to open the vault. The bank didn’t carry large amounts. Just enough to cash payroll checks, but it was probably more than the two would see in a lifetime.
The robber shoved Walmart bags at her. “Fill these up. Fast. And don’t push any alarms and no color bombs. You got it?”
Abby nodded, entered the vault and threw wrapped twenties into the bag. Her hands