“Lock the front door, you jerk.” The first man gestured furiously. “And no shooting unless I say so. Everybody empty their pockets on the bar. Make it fast.” He gestured the third man into position so that the whole bar was covered. “Wallets, jewelry, too. Hey, you.” He lifted the barrel of the gun toward Lola. “Dump out those tips, sweetheart. You look like you’d earn plenty.”

Nick didn’t move. Couldn’t. He knew the voice. Despite the distorted features, all three gunmen were easy for him to recognize. T.J.’s giggle and shambling walk. Cash’s battered denim jacket. The scar on Reece’s wrist where an Hombre blade had caught him.

These were his friends. His family.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded as T.J. pranced around the bar, scooping the take into a laundry bag.

“Empty them,” Reece demanded.

“You’ve got to be crazy.”

“Do it!” He swung the barrel toward Rachel. “And shut the hell up.”

Nick kept his eyes on Reece as he complied. “This is the end, man. You crossed the line.”

Behind the mask, Reece only grinned. “On the floor!” he shouted. “Facedown, hands behind your heads. Not you,” he said to Zack. “You empty out the cash register. And you—” he grabbed Rachel’s arm “—you look like mighty fine insurance. Anybody gets any ideas, I cash her in.”

“Leave her the hell—”

“Nick!” Zack’s quick and quiet order cut him off. “Back off.” As he emptied the till, he watched Reece. “You don’t need her.”

“But I like her.”

Rachel swallowed as the hand tightened on her arm, squeezing experimentally.

“Fresh meat,” he called out, smacking his lips. T.J. erupted into giggles. “Maybe we’ll take you along with us, sweet thing. Show you a real good time.”

The furious retort burned the tip of her tongue. Rachel gritted her teeth against it. The heel of her foot on his instep, she thought. An elbow to his windpipe. She could do it, and the idea of taking him out had her blood pumping fast. But if she did, she knew the other two would open fire.

When Nick strained forward, Reece locked his arm around Rachel’s throat. “Try it, dishwasher.” His teeth flashed in a brutal challenge. “Do it, man. Take me on.”

“Cool it.” Reece’s attitude toward the woman was making Cash nervous. “Come on, we came for the money. Just the money.”

“I take what I want.” He watched as T.J. scooped the contents of the till into his sack. “Where’s the rest?”

“Slow night,” Zack told him.

“Don’t push me, man. There’s a safe in the office. Open it.”

“Fine.” Zack moved slowly, passing through the opening of the bar. He had to control the urge to fight, to grab the little sneering-voiced punk and pound his face to pulp. “I’ll open it as soon as you let her go.”