Slow Dreaming by Anne Barwell

I’ll be out once I’ve set the dishwasher going.” He disappeared into the kitchen.
    Jason sat down heavily on one of the chairs. It wasn’t their usual table, he noticed idly, but one closer to the counter. The door to the adjacent bookshop was still closed; it apparently didn’t open as early as the cafe.
    The bell over the front door jingled. Lisa glared at the cup she was putting down in front of Jason. “We’re not open yet!” she called in the direction of the interruption. “Come back in ten… oh hell.”
    “Lisa?” Jason followed Lisa’s gaze and froze. He pushed the chair back. This couldn’t be right. This wasn’t supposed to happen yet. They were supposed to have one more day.
    One of the three men who had entered waved a gun toward them. He was tall and thickset and definitely the one in charge. “Sit down, and don’t move,” he ordered. The second man moved quickly to pull down the shades over the windows to hide the interior of the cafe from outside view. “Check out the back in case there’s anyone else out there.”
    Jason thought quickly. “Look,” he said. “We’re not going to cause any trouble. Just take what you want and leave. Please.”
    The words were a waste of time, but he knew that before he said them. These men were not after the little amount of cash in the till before opening. They were on the run from a murder scene with the Armed Defenders squad in pursuit.
    He’d read that part of the file before the assignment. That, and what would happen next.
    “Hey, I’m cooperating, okay?” Sean protested as the third man shoved him toward Jason and Lisa.
    “Found this one out in the kitchen,” Third Man said gruffly. “This appears to be it, though.” He pointed at Sean with his gun. All three of the fugitives were armed. It shifted the odds into their favor; an attempt to overpower them would be foolish and dangerous. “He says there isn’t anyone else.”
    “You’re telling the truth, yeah?” First Man walked up to Sean, scraping the barrel of his weapon across Sean’s cheek.
    Sean didn’t flinch. “Yeah, I am. I already told your friend that. Take whatever you want and go.” He took a breath. “Let these two go, and I’ll stay and be a hostage if you need one. You don’t need all of us.”
    “Yeah, right.” First man laughed. “Let them go so they’ll tell the cops exactly where we are.” None of the men were taking any trouble in hiding their appearances. They wore beanies under the upturned hoods of their sweatshirts, but nothing pulled over their faces to disguise them.
    Jason swallowed. No witnesses. There weren’t supposed to have been any witnesses. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Just Sean and Lisa, and if Sean hadn’t….
    He laid a warning arm on Sean’s arm. “Sit down, Sean, please. Don’t aggravate them. Please.” Don’t invite them to kill you. Please. They’re fucking planning to do that anyway.
    “Yeah, Sean. Don’t aggravate us. Please.” Second Man chuckled; it was a cold, hollow sound.
    Sean hesitated for a moment then sat on the chair between Jason and Lisa. Lisa mumbled something under her breath. Jason shot her a warning glance. She smiled at him shakily, but there was anger in it too.
    Outside sirens wailed, tires screeched. The flurry of noise was followed by an uneasy silence. The three fugitives glanced around warily. It didn’t take a genius to work out the conclusion they’d come to. Panic crossed Third Man’s face. He was younger than his companions, tall and slender, similar in build to Sean, but there was something wild about him, not quite right. “They’ve found us. Oh God.” The hand holding his gun shook. “I didn’t kill anyone, it wasn’t me. I’ll tell them it wasn’t me.”
    First Man snorted. “Yeah, sure, and where does that leave the rest of us? You were there. You might as well have pulled the bloody trigger.”
    “But I didn’t!” Third Man whined. He glanced toward the front door,