"Get back here you idiot," Marla whispered as fiercely as she could. Danny drove her crazy, constantly ogling her and doing little more than he had to around the shop. Now he was going to be the death of them both. She got to her feet a little more smoothly than her co-worker.
Danny reached the phone and realized the flaw in his plan. He wouldn't be able to pick it up much less dial it very easily with both hands behind his back. He glanced around the shop. No way he could go through the door. The bell would be a dead give away. Phone it was then. He turned and was about to try and grab it when he looked up to see Marla close the distance.
She got right in his face, close enough for her spit to spray him. Her face was bright red, but her words were calm and low. "I swear if you don't get on your knees I will kill you myself."
He believed her, so he complied. "I'm sorry Marla. I just don't want to die."
"Neither do I Danny, neither do I." She looked down on him and felt the urge to tousle his hair. Of course she wouldn't have been able to anyway. "Now get back over there." She took a small pleasure in watching him knee-walk back to his spot. Before she joined him she saw a letter opener sitting on the counter. It wasn't much, a replica of Excalibur that dad got at some stupid trade show, but its point was wicked sharp and she couldn’t get to the shears. Marla turned her back to the counter and managed to grab it on the first try. It slipped neatly into her back pocket. Thankfully her jeans had just a little bit of bag to them and it shouldn't be too obvious.
The sound of something shattering came from the back. She moved quickly back to where she had been and crouched back down. Danny was kneeling about where he had been before and looked like he had settled down just a little. His breathing was measured. That was good. If they were going to make it out of here he needed to be able to listen and do what he was told. She didn't really have a plan per se, but she had always been good at improvisation and her upbringing made her no stranger to men with guns.
Footsteps signaled Jacobi's return. She focused all of her mind on Brandi. She was seven when she'd found the Golden Retriever puppy with the bright red ribbon around its neck waiting for her in her bedroom. She had giggled and jumped up and down and showered Daddy with kisses. She loved that dog more than she had loved any human being for the two years they'd had her. Then one day Brandi had run out into traffic. Marla could still feel the burn of the leash running through her fingers. The squeal of brakes and a wet crunching sound woke her from her dreams for months. The emotion from that memory added to the stress of her current situation and tears came easily.
