Free Blue Steele - Box Set - Captures 1-6 by Donald Wells

it had nothing to do with Ernesto. It came in the form of three armed, masked men dressed in black.
    The first one to enter fired a shot into the ceiling, while shouting, “Get down on the floor, now!”
    When no one moved, he shot the event’s lone security guard in the chest.
    A second later, everyone was on the floor, and a great many of them were whimpering.
    The shooter’s black T-shirt had a white number one on the front, while the other men wore the numbers two and three on theirs.
    The shooter’s companions carried two duffle bags each, a red one and a blue one. As thug number two went right and number three left, we were instructed to throw our wallets and jewelry in the blue duffle and our phones in the red.
    I was down on the floor when thug number two approached Ernesto and me.
    As I said, my dress was haughty naughty and my girls were practically spilling out of it as I lay on the floor. Even as he gathered the belongings of the people near us, I could see the bandit’s eyes leering at my breasts, meanwhile, my eyes were coveting the gun on his hip, even from the small amount of it that I could see protruding from its holster, I could tell that it was a semi-automatic Glock .
    When it was our turn to hand over our belongings, I tossed my phone in the red bag and then sat up on my knees. The movement not only made my breasts jiggle, but now my face was also level with the thief’s crotch. As he gazed at me with a look of longing on his face, I reached into my purse as if to retrieve my wallet, took out my .38, and shot him in the right leg.
    The wounded man fell beside me and I used him as a shield as I yanked the gun from his holster and fired at the man who had shot the security guard. My second shot just missed hitting him in the head and he backed out into the hall.
    As I ducked behind the man I had shot, I felt him tremble, even as a cry escaped him.
    He had been hit by friendly fire, as the third man closed in steadily. I stuck my gun under the wounded man’s chin and backed up toward the rear hallway, where the rest of the guests were already fleeing in panic.
    The third man seemed to have no regard for his partner, as he kept firing in our direction. My human shield was struck at least three times and as his knees began to buckle, I struggled to hold him in front of me.
    It was a losing battle. The man outweighed me by eighty pounds and I was still holding a gun in each hand. I let go of the man, fired off a shot, and dived behind a statue. When I peeked out to see where my assailant was, I saw him running away with the two blue bags in his hand and the red bags with the phones were sitting abandoned on the floor.
    Next, I heard the ping of the elevator, but when I reached the hallway, the elevator car was already at the basement level, where the cars were parked.
    I rushed back inside and stared down at the dying bandit. He was lying in a spreading puddle of blood. I reached down and pulled the hood off his head and he gasped in pain. He was white and average looking, but his teeth were yellow.
    “Who are your partners? Where can I find them?”
    “The bastard who shot me; his name is Joe Cordell.”
    I saw movement from the right. It was Ernesto, creeping toward me with a fascinated, but frightened look on his face, behind him, men and women peeked in from the hallway, and outside, came the sound of sirens.
    “And what about the other man, the one who shot the guard?”
    “He... he goes by the name Jones and you can find them at—”
    The man went rigid as pain shot throughout his midsection. I counted four separate holes in his shirt and a large tear on his left side, where an exiting bullet caused most of his blood loss. As the light faded in his eyes, he got out his final words.
    “The money’s hidden... in car... three... near... the... brakes.”
    And then, he died.
    ***
    T he cops arrested two men who were leaving the building via the garage’s exit ramp. Neither man was carrying a