10:30 p.m.
Ray's first impression was pain.
His second was of Sarah.
Sitting beside him on the floor, she touched him softly, her hands cool and gentle as they dabbed at his temple. Despite her care, he jerked as he became aware of his surroundings and tried to sit up.
"Stay still," she demanded. "You'll bleed if you move." She was biting the end of her tongue, the tip of it sticking out as she concentrated on his wound. "I'm no nurse, but I found a first aid kit with bandages in it. I think I've got the bleeding stopped. You've been out almost two hours."
Ignoring her words, he eased up, and a swell of dizziness hit him. He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and looked around, touching the gauze at his temple. They were in a small room lined with shelves filled with paper goods and file cabinets. "Where in the hell are we?"
"They locked us up in the supply room, in the back of the bank."
"What about everyone else?"
"They're gone," she said calmly. "I traded the other hostages for time. The SWAT team threatened an entry, but I got them to hold off. In return, the robbers let everyone go and sent out Tommy's body. I tried to get you out, too, but they wouldn't release you. I made them untie us, though. I think they're saving us to exchange for transportation."
"What do you think they'll want?"
"Who knows," she answered. "Some kind of car, maybe a plane. As much sense as they've apparently got, they might want safe passage to Timbuktu, who knows?" she repeated.
Ray nodded, then grimaced at the pain.
She put her hand out and touched his shoulder. "Don't move. It's a nasty wound. You're lucky to be alive."
Her touch etched itself into his skin, her fingers warm, the nails painted a pale shade of pink. It was the same color she'd always used, he realized with a start. How many times had he imagined her skin against his since they'd broken up? He answered himself quickly: too many to count.
He reached out and covered her hand with his, raising his eyes to hers. Her blue gaze turned unsettled as he made the connection and spoke two words. "I'm sorry.
She hesitated for a long moment, then said, "For what?"
"For not trying harder. There should have been something I could have done"
She shook her head quickly, her hair swinging back and forth, brushing whispers across her neck. "Don't worry about it. The team will come through — Beck's a great negotiator and it'll work out. With the hostages out of the way, they have a lot more options." She paused. "You did the best you could."
"Did I?" His face shifted and grew hard. "That's what I tell myself all the time about us, too. That I did the best I could. But you know what?"
She licked her lips, her heart freezing in place as she waited for him to continue.
"I didn't do the best I could. I screwed up, big time. And I've regretted it every day of my life."
To be continued
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