And that’s when things took a nasty turn.
A man, at a table for two about twenty feet away in the left corner, dove for cover behind a nearby booth. His sprawl sent a plate of food and utensils off the table and on to the floor.
The robber’s eyes went moon-sized as he spun toward the sound, dragging Molly with him by her throat.
She screeched, a sound that turned to gagging for air.
My weapon swung up as I yelled, “Stop, police!”
Like an echo, Roy’s voice boomed, “Stop, police!”
Somewhere in my brain there’s shock at his stupidity. How could he even say such a thing and why couldn’t he just leave well enough alone?
Is he some sort of vigilante?
Followed by the thought, That sounded a little too practiced.
At the same time, a man across from me about fifteen feet away in shorts and t-shirt, leapt to his feet and yelled, “Stop, police!”
With the same message repeated by a woman three tables to my right. “Stop, police!”
From out of nowhere, the question pops into my head. And I came here to be away from other cops?
“No. No. Noo,” whimpers the man in the mask.
A butter knife drops to the ground, landing in the yellow puddle forming around his feet.
I watch as his empty hands rise above his head.
Molly grabs her throat and staggers clear.
“I jussh needsh tha money,” he sobs. “Or they won’t let me have my dog back. I neeed it.”
My heart breaks.
The grip on my weapon softens, but I keep my voice firm. “I need you to place your hands behind your head and get on your knees.”
“No.” He says. “Can’t get on my kneesh.”
The cop in shorts, weapon still high and ready, approaches the man in the mask. “Sir. The officer told you to place your hands on your head and get to your knees. Are you refusing to comply?”
Shaking his head, the man looked to the cop. “My kneessh.” He took another breath and tried again. “Knees. Don’t bent so good. They took my knee top.”
I gave the other officer a nod that he returned to show we’re on the same page about giving the man consideration for his claimed injury.
“Understood. Then, hands on your head,” said the officer.
He laced them together as Roy moved toward him.
“What in the world?” I whispered. “You need to stop.”
He chuckled, “Why? Because I’m a mall cop?”
I rolled my eyes in embarrassment.
The female officer called over to me, “Are you really on a date?”
My cheeks found a way to blush double-time at the question. “Uh, yes I—er, we are.”
She grinned. “Want us to take it from here?”
Roy and I looked at each other and he answered, “If you don’t mind, yes, please.”
He took his wallet out, a badge tucked into its sleeve, and gave her his card.
I followed suit. “If you guys need anything, just call us.”
“Us?” said Roy, “Does that mean there might be another date?”
“Another? We’re not done with this one.”
“Oh, really?” Roy stared off into the distance as if in thought. “I don’t know,” he said, before laying it on thick, “officer. Are you sure you want to date someone who isn’t a mall cop?”
I rolled my eyes. "You still hungry?"
He shook his head. "No chance.
"Good. We need to go somewhere quiet.”
Already pulling bills out of his wallet, he grinned that gorgeous grin. “Way ahead of you, again, officer,” and slipped the money under my coffee cup.
We made our way to where Molly was in deep conversation with the female officer and insisting she didn’t want to press charges. I’d leave them to sort that out and decide what charges had to be laid.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Oh, sweetie, you know me,” She said, her smile big as ever, “I’m always fine. Just like that man you’ve got there.”
I rolled my eyes. “You never stop.”
“Nope. Not while I got time left.”
We gave each other an enormous hug. The first of what I was sure would be many, and she said, “Now you two go and enjoy your third date in the way you should.”
Roy laughed. “You’re the best, Molly.”
“Hey, now,” I said, “give me a chance.”
“You’re right.” Roy extended his hand to me, “Staff Sergeant Jenkins, pleased to meet you.”
I huffed out a sigh and swatted his hand away. “Let’s get out of here, Officer Giggles, and see what you’re made of.”
“My pleasure, ma’am,” he said, and followed me out the door and into what would become the best, and last date, I’d ever need to have.
About C.J Lazar
C.J Lazar was born and raised in Steeltown, Ontario, Canada. A city where fun and trouble were always just around the corner and he made the most of both.
Now that experience fuels romantic adventures of twists and turns with enough heat to keep the pages turning.
We See You Too
Allison M. Cosgrove
Not all heroes wear scrubs — We See You Too
We See You Too
I sighed and looked in the mirror. The face looking back at me smiled but inside I wasn’t feeling it. It had been weeks since my life had been ripped away from me.
I bit back the tears that threatened; no sense in crying. It wouldn’t fix anything, but I couldn’t help but feel like the world was ending; that nothing was ever going to be the same again.
Momma kept saying that it was for the best, that it was our job and our duty to do the best that we could for everyone.
I knew logically what she was saying was true, but I missed my friends. I missed my boyfriend, Mason. I missed the life that I had been building since I had moved away from home less than a year before.
I just wanted my life back.
“Alyssa, are you ready?” Momma called from upstairs. “We should get going. You don’t want to be late.”
“I know, Mom! I'm almost ready,” I said, grabbing my knapsack and tossing a charger in it as I raced out of the basement up to the kitchen to make myself some lunch for work.
“Didn’t you make your lunch already?” she called out.
“No, Mom, I was getting ready,” I mumbled back.
“My God, child, you are so disorganized sometimes. I’ll go start the truck—hustle it,” she said and I heard her walk out the door as I quickly put cream cheese on a bagel and grabbed a granola bar, throwing both in my bag.
I ran back down the stairs and tossed on my shoes and grabbed my jacket before stepping into the cool spring night air.
The moon was bright in the sky. It was the perfect night for a fire out back—not too hot and not too cold. Maybe next weekend Momma would light one.
“Let's roll out,” Momma said as we backed down out of the driveway.
I slumped in the seat.