Hot Pursuit by Christina Skye

alone.”
    Everyone’s attention flashed to the clerk, who was brandishing a baseball bat which he had pulled from behind the counter. To prove his seriousness, he slammed the bat into a plastic candy display so that M&M’s shot through the room.
    Taylor noticed that the stocky man was on one knee, where he had stumbled on a soda can. Rains was now hiding behind a big plastic garbage can.
    Sweatshirt lurched across the aisle and began grappling with the clerk, who struggled to hold on to the bat. But the older man’s burst of energy was fading, as Sweatshirt yanked hard straining for control.
    Taylor decided now was the time for her to leave. Once outside, she could call for help. As she turned, the bat clattered to the floor behind her.
    A hand gripped her elbow. “You come too. We can use some company on the long drive ahead of us.”
    Taylor felt her stomach dive to her toes. “No way.”
    Just then the front door swung open, its discreet electronic chime announcing a new visitor. The man in the sweatshirt jerked Taylor in front of him, cursing as a tall man stepped in off the street. The new arrival was wearing sweatpants and a University of California T-shirt, looking as if he’d just come from a hard jog.
    When he turned, Taylor realized she was staring at Jack Broussard, her neighbor. She tried to get his eye, but he was nodding at the elderly clerk. “Afternoon.”
    The old man nodded slightly but said nothing.
    Sweatshirt Man shifted, holding Taylor so his arm was hidden by a display of lotto tickets. “We’re closed,” he said harshly. “Inventory to finish. Didn’t you see the sign?”
    â€œNo problem. Two beers and I’ll be out of your hair. Only take a minute.” Jack strolled along the racks filled with snack food, oblivious to the tension in the room as he tucked three bags of barbecued potato chips under his arm. After careful deliberation, he added a can of black bean dip.
    Why didn’t he look up? How could he not notice the tension in the store?
    â€œSomething fall down over here?” Jack shoved aside several cans, then frowned as he saw the pregnant woman, who was just coming awake on the floor. He crossed the aisle and bent down beside her. “Are you okay, ma’am?”
    The woman looked around the room, then nodded tensely. “I’m—fine.”
    Jack helped her to her feet, then patted her hand. “Glad to hear it. You need some help?”
    â€œN-no thanks. I’ll be okay.”
    Jack stood up slowly. He seemed oblivious to the stares as he walked silently down the middle of the store. He swung open the big cooler door and studied the array of foreign and domestic beers.
    In the glass, Taylor saw the whole room reflected in eerie detail. She wanted to scream a warning, but she didn’t dare, because the man in the sweatshirt was right behind her now.
    â€œTake your beer and then go,” Sweatshirt ordered. “Hurry up.”
    Broussard nodded calmly, then pulled out a single can of beer. He tucked it under his arm with the bean dip. “No problem. Almost done.”
    Taylor tried to step away from her captor, but hard fingers gripped her arm, tightening painfully as sirens whined in the distance.
    Jack turned, scratching his neck. “Anybody hear a siren?”
    Outside the singsong drone grew louder. Taylor stumbled as Sweatshirt jerked her back along the checkout counter, and something metal jabbed her side.
    â€œStart walking backward” came the low hiss. “Any noise and I kill you, understand?”
    Taylor understood perfectly when the gun muzzle dug in harder.
    As she walked, she cradled her cell phone, keeping the line open and praying that someone was listening.
    Harris Rains was still crouched behind the garbage can as Jack strolled back up the center of the store with his purchases under one arm. His hands hung loosely at his sides, and some part of Taylor’s