A/N: Just one chapter in and I get spammed with all of your reviews! :) You guys are awesome for giving this story a read, and I am happy to know that you are enjoying my first POV story. Now, as I stated before, there will be other character's POV's other than Emma's at times during the story. This second chapter for instance, starts with Killian's POV before following Emma's. I hope you all enjoy it. Happy reading!
Another crime in the lowest part of the city of Boston. Fucking surprise.
I exit my vehicle, glock strapped to my hip inside its holster, badge strapped to my belt as my hand lifts up the crime scene tape. My eyes move directly to the orange van blazing in flames and turning to ash right before me.
Bloody hell. Had I known I would wake up to another bank robbery this morning, I would have called in sick. Oh, well. At least I had some sense to spike my coffee before leaving the comfort of my home.
"What's up?" I ask another agent as he meets up with me in front of the First National Bank.
"Boosted a city work van, which hasn't even been reported stolen yet."
"Yeah, they're probably too busy working," I chuckle at my own sarcasm. One could use a little sarcasm once in a while with the pressure of being in the FBI.
"Can you believe this? They used the van to screen the door." He shook his head, watching me take a sip of my spiked coffee.
I allow the taste of my coffee linger on my tongue for a while before I allow myself to speak. "Was anyone hurt?" I ask.
"Nothing major, except for the traumatic event. The assistant manager, Sidney Glass, got his face bashed in pretty good."
"What about the manager?" I ask, taking another sip.
"It would appear the robbers took her hostage. Mr. Glass informed me that they blindfolded her, held her at gunpoint and took her."
"Well," my chest puffs up as I inhale a sharp breath before harshly releasing it. "Let's go see what awaits us inside. Shall we?"
"After you, Jones." Briggs motions toward the back door of the bank and I walk ahead.
I was thankful this wasn't turned into a crime scene, but boy, what a mess. The scent of bleach hit my nostrils so much, they burned. No matter if I placed the side of my hand against my mouth and nose, I could still smell it.
"I'm guessing the video surveillance was destroyed?" I asked Briggs, the obvious evidence before me as I look toward the lunch room and see the microwave up in smoke with fried hard drives inside.
"You guessed right." Briggs replied, walking along until he stepped inside the bank lobby. "And they covered the entire floors and vault with bleach. It kills all the clothing fiber so we can't get a match."
"Perfect," I mutter under my breath, removing my hand from my nose and mouth. My eyes moved over to the other employees of the bank and some clients of the bank, who still looked terrified. As to be expected.
"Silent alarm came from desk two. These guys waited until the time expired on the lock and had the manager open the vault, just like saying 'open sesame.'"
"Under duress?" I stand in front of the open vault, seeing it completely empty of all the money. Whoever robbed this bank, did an excellent job at it. For someone like me to recognize that- it's because it was true.
I'm no stranger to bank robbery, and in all my years as a cop, I've never seen a more clean job.
"I don't know." Briggs replied, his eyes watching me work.
"Ten foot-steel safe. Only as strong as the guy with the key." I observe the vault and walk right in, hearing Briggs footsteps behind me.
My hand reached inside my jacket pocket as I fished out for my ringing cell phone, answering the call. "Detective Jones… Where?... I'll be right there."
"A lead?" Briggs asks.
"Police found the van. Torched." I place my cell inside my pocket.
"Where?"
"I'll give you three guesses." I rush out the back door, Briggs right on my tail as we go to said location given to me. This was going to be another busy/long day.
I walk along the sidewalk with my hands stuffed inside my leather jacket as I head toward the Charlestown hockey stadium. Leroy, the owner- good guy- allowed me to come in here with my boys any fucking time I wanted. And the man loved his drink.
"Hey, Leroy," I nod my head at him, walking into the dark and empty stadium.
"Hey, Swanny," He grinned, knowing well I hated that fucking nickname of his.
"You know I fucking hate that nickname." I reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels I kept in my jacket pocket, pulling it away from his eager grasp.
"Come on," he glared at me, his face falling. "You gonna tease me like that?"
I tossed the bottle right at him, hearing the paper bag it was placed in crackle as his hands caught it in the air.
"Tell me something, Leroy- how the fuck is your liver still functional with the amount of alcohol you drink a day?" I watch him in awe taking a long swig of the bottle before he answers me.
"It likes the drink," he smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. "I should have been a fucking pirate."
"Yeah, I just bet you were in your past life," I pat him on the shoulder. "Go home. Get warm."
My hands tuck inside my jacket pockets while my boots click along the floor of the stadium, echoing in the air like Graham and August's voices as they whispered in conversation. Their eyes turned to me as soon as they spotted me.
"Where the fuck is Robin?" I ask, wondering why ask to see us here and he's a fucking no-show.
"He stopped on the way down here to light a couple house fires, stick up a liquor store, maybe- I don't know." August shrugged, leaning against the edge wall that divided the ice rink and bench area.
"Listen, Em," Graham scratched his scruffy cheek while releasing a frustrated sigh, "Level with me, cause I gotta know."
"What?" I ask, my eyes taking notice in his discomfort.
"Now, you know August and have your back, right?" His eyes locked with mine. And somehow, I knew what he was about to say. "Always, but… Are we taking hostages now?"
"No, we're not taking hostages now." I shook my head, speaking the truth.
"So, are you going to talk to this fucking asshole, or what?" Graham motioned toward the double doors as soon as Robin made his way through them.
"I will," I nodded, trying to keep the peace. I was thankful for Graham and August. They were like me, they didn't care about killing people. They just wanted money. While Robin… We all knew he was a little more careless, and these boys were beginning to become fed up with his shit.
"Because, we aren't cut up for this." Graham continued, his eyes turning to August who spoke up next.
"Yeah, I'm not going back to jail," August shook his head.
"No one's going to jail, alright?" I glanced quickly over my shoulder, keeping my voice low, seeing Robin through my peripheral vision as he was nearing us. "Calm the fuck down. Both of you."
"Hey," Robin removed the sunglasses from his face, and I could tell something was up.
"Hey, speak of the fucking devil." August's eyes landed on Robin as he climbed up the three step stairs.
"Nice of you to join us," my eyes fall on Robin as he stands before me. "Did you take the scenic route or what?"
"We got a fucking problem," Robin releases a sigh.
"What?" I ask him.
"Well, look," I see his hand come up with something out of his jacket pocket before handing it to me. As I take it and look it over, I realize that this asshole stole the bank manager's driver's license.
"So what?" My eyes meet up with his.
"Hold on a second, let me see that thing." August reaches for the driver's license as I hand it to him.
"Oh, shit," Graham leans in, his eyes falling on me. "Have you seen the address?" He asked me.
"Em, this bitch lives four blocks away from here." Says August, his face growing pale. "Now, that's a problem."
"I'll say it is," Robin leaned up against the wall, his palm smacking hard against the wall it echoed. "Fuck!" He shouted.
"So, what, we're just going to risk running into her everyday?" August asked, his eyes on me.
"She didn't see anything," I shake my head.
"Fuck, are you sure about that?" Graham asks.
"Well, taking her for a ride didn't help." My eyes glared up at Robin as I said this, and if my blame on him wasn't subtle enough, I raised my voice a little just to throw in the hint.
"Yeah. Fuck." Robin muttered under his breath, running a free hand through his hair. "Alright," he sighed, snatching the driver's license card from August's hand. "I'm gonna take care of this."
"Oh, you're gonna take care of this?" My eyebrows shot up as sarcastic as my tone.
"Yeah, I'm gonna take care of it."
"How the fuck are you going to take care of this, Robin?" August asked, "You gonna walk up to her and shoot her in the back of the head in the middle of the fucking street, or what?"
"No- what- you think I'm a fucking idiot?" Robin sneered at August. "I'm gonna stalk her, watch her, find out what she knows. Maybe she needs a good scare."
"She's already scared." I mutter under my breath, but not quiet enough to where I wasn't heard.
"Yeah?" Robin's eyes glare right at me. "Well, maybe not scared enough."
While August, Graham and Robin entered into a discussion on the best way to handle this pickle of a situation we now found ourselves in, I analyzed everything in my head in silence, tuning their voices out to be able to think with some fucking clarity.
First off, there was no way I was going to allow Robin to follow this woman around. He already made a mess of things back at the bank, even if we were able to rob it just fine. But there was really no need to take her hostage in the first place. That was his mistake. A mistake that I would have to clean up after. And if anyone could follow this Regina Mills without being spotted- that would be me. And, why lie to you? I wanted to see her again.
"All of you, shut the fuck up," I finally said, all eyes turned on me. "You aren't handling shit," I told Robin, snatching the driver's license out of his hand. "I'll take care of it."
"Wait a minute," Robin reached out, trying to snatch the driver's license back but wasn't fast enough. "Why are you taking care of this?"
"Because you're the fucking reason we're having this conversation in the first place." I glare back.
"Yeah, but I'm gonna get the job done." He pointed at his own chest with his digit.
"What are you gonna get done? Huh?" I can't help but chuckle at his stupidity. "I know you, Robin- you're gonna go, you're gonna follow her around and get picked up for intimidating a witness. If you walk within a hundred feet of her, that's ten years, okay? You have two strikes against you already, alright? You get your ass locked up again, they're going to bury you under the fucking jail."
"Right," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
The last thing Robin wanted, like the rest of us- was to end his ass back up behind bars. And if it took me to remind him of that to pull him off this woman's trail, I was glad to do it.
"How much money's in the sack?" August asked, his eyes on Robin.
"We have ninety a pop," he replied. "Minus what I had to shave off for the florist."
Maurice, the florist, was who covered for our jobs. He used to steal back in the day with my father, and Robin's father, who under a low profile, he scouted perfect jobs for us to do. So, of course, the greedy fuck asked for his cut of whatever we took.
"Hey, Robin," I gain his attention as I remember him beating the shit out of the assistant manager at the bank. Like I said, reckless fuck. "What happened with the assistant manager back there?"
"Oh, yeah," he chuckled so wide, I could see the pleasure he took in beating the shit out of the poor man. "Well, the next time skeletor comes in demanding money with an AK aimed at his face, I say he's gonna think twice about hitting that alarm, isn't he?"
I shake my head, my eyes glaring at him in warning about doing a nice clean heist.
"How many times do I have to fucking tell you, huh? No one gets hurt," I see him nod, and I know that my words mean shit to him. "We go in there, we take the money and leave."
"Hey, don't look at me like that, alright? He's alive. He's lucky he just got tuned up."
'Tuned up,' I had to chuckle at his choice of words. That was rich, coming from him. That assistant manager was lucky I was there to stop Robin from splattering the man's brains all over the floor. Besides, I grew up with Robin, I knew how to handle him when he needed handling. Growing up together and earning his respect got me the respect I needed from my boys.
Still… That didn't mean I didn't need to keep a close eye on him. The last thing we needed was to be stupid on a job and have every cop in Boston up our asses.
Like my boys… I wasn't about to end up back in jail either.