Taking The Heat Read Online Free PDF Page B

conservative heels, and a sleeveless silk top that looked like it had a thousand wrinkles in it. He was wearing slacks, a dress shirt, and a jacket three sizes too large. She shifted her gaze to meet mine, smiled, and immediately looked down as if embarrassed. He, on the other hand, focused his nervous eyes on the deposit pouch I held, eventually broke his stare, and forced his mouth to form a half-assed smirk as he looked upward.
    I have always seemed to possess an uncanny knack for reading people. She appeared to me to be apprehensive or as if she felt out of place. He seemed nervous and quite anxious. My efforts to make eye contact with him as they walked past me and into the bank were unsuccessful. As soon as he entered the otherwise empty bank, his eyes began to nervously shift back and forth throughout the lobby. He either had a plan and was too damned nervous to implement it, or was assembling one quickly in his mind. Either way, I stood by the door and watched his every move with interest. As he walked into the center of the lobby, she remained at my side; standing beside the door.
    A man’s physical size may have something to do with his capacity to intimidate other men, but in all honesty, size has very little to do with actual ability. Although I was a good six inches taller than he was, and clearly physically larger and stronger, something about him made me nervous. I was in no way intimidated by him or scared, but his nervous behavior was beginning to make me feel more and more uneasy. As my eyes shifted between him and her, his plan became crystal clear.
    You’ve got to be fucking kidding…
    “Nobody fucking move; and if anyone pushes a panic button, I’ll kill every motherfucker in here!” he screamed as he began waving a pistol at the bank tellers.
    Immediately, my military instinct took over. I damned sure wasn’t new to fighting, combat, gunfire, or stupid fuckers armed with guns, but I wasn’t so self-centered that I didn’t realize he was twenty feet from me and armed with a pistol while I had nothing more than a knife and a pouch full of money. If I could only get him close enough to touch him, I knew I could disarm him before he knew what happened. Having received my black belt in the Marine Corps Martial Arts Program, or MCMAP, I could have remained in the states and been a Marine martial arts instructor. Instead, I opted to go to war. As I studied him and his manner of holding the weapon, he turned my direction and began nervously screaming.
    “Toss your deposit bag. Throw it over here, you big fucker…” he stammered as he waved the gun my direction.
    If this motherfucker thinks he’s going to rob me, he’s either going to have to get a dozen more men or a hell of a lot more firepower.
    “Throw it on the fucking floor,” he demanded as he shifted his gaze back and forth between the bank tellers and me.
    Sorry, shit hat. Come and get it.
    Nervously, he shifted his eyes to the row of tellers, “Every one of you motherfuckers better get the money out of your drawers right now . Put it all in deposit bags, and don’t sound an alarm. If a cop comes in here, I’m going to shoot every one of you bitches before he shoots me.”
    As he quickly turned away from where I stood and faced the tellers, I tilted my head to the side and whispered, “Stay right here by the door. Don’t move, understand?”
    His female accomplice nervously nodded her head.
    While he faced the other direction, I took two steps toward him. As he turned around, he blinked his eyes a few times and once again demanded I drop the money.
    “I told you to toss that bag on the floor, big boy,” he snarled as he pointed the gun toward me.
    Did you just call me a boy?
    I figured my best bet was to coerce him to come to me and attempt to take the money. All he needed was a little encouragement. I rolled my shoulders forward, stared down at my boots, and tried to appear as small as a six foot tall 190 pound Marine could