His stomach dropped.
He whispered:
“Oh, God.”
Mike heard him.
“Yes,” he said.
Then he took another sip of coffee.
“And now you understand.”
Leo had imagined many ways a robbery could go wrong.
He had imagined an alarm.
A hidden police officer.
A customer fighting back.
A silent alarm bringing patrol cars.
He had never imagined realizing, halfway through a robbery, that he had accidentally walked into a room full of men who were more dangerous than he could understand.
Corey still stood near the register.
His revolver shook in his hand.
“Leo,” he whispered.
“I know.”
“No, man.”
“I know.”
“Look outside.”
“I saw.”
Corey's face had gone pale.
Brenda slowly opened the cash drawer.
There was less than three hundred dollars inside.
Leo stared at it.
Three hundred.
That was all.
Three hundred dollars.
He had risked his life for three hundred dollars.
Then he looked toward Booth Nine.
Mike Callahan hadn't moved.
Bobby Gallagher was watching Corey.
Declan Reed was watching Leo's hands.
Garrett Hayes was watching the door.
It was the way they watched that frightened Leo most.
They weren't staring like ordinary customers.
They were measuring.
Leo had spent enough time around criminals to recognize that behavior.
These men were calculating possibilities.
Distances.
Timing.
Exits.
Weapons.
Weaknesses.
And Leo suddenly understood something terrifying.
They had been doing it since the moment he entered.
He had been the only person in the room who thought he was in control.
“Open the drawer wider,” Leo said.
Brenda obeyed.
“There.”
Leo looked at Corey.
“Take it.”
Corey grabbed the money.
Then he looked at the four men.
Mike sighed.
“Take a breath, kid.”
Corey blinked.
“What?”
“You're shaking so badly you're going to drop the money.”
“I ain't your kid.”
“No,” Mike replied. “But you look like someone's son.”
That sentence hit Corey harder than any threat could have.
His eyes dropped.
Leo noticed.
“Corey.”
“Yeah.”
“Keep moving.”
Corey shoved the money into his pocket.
Then he looked toward the door.
Leo followed his gaze.
The motorcycles were still there.
The desert was still empty.
No police.
No sirens.
No rescue.
Only the four men in Booth Nine.
And the old waitress.
Leo realized something else.
If the bikers wanted to stop them, they already would have.
Why hadn't they?
“Why aren't you doing anything?” Leo asked.
Mike raised an eyebrow.
“Doing what?”
“You know what.”
Mike looked at Bobby.
Bobby shrugged.
Then Mike looked back.
“You haven't hurt anybody.”
Leo frowned.
“So?”
“So there's still a line.”
“What line?”
“The line between a stupid decision and a terrible one.”
Leo tightened his grip.
“Don't lecture me.”
Mike nodded.
“Fair.”
He lifted his cup.
“But you should understand something.”
Leo waited.
“You came here looking for money.”
Mike's eyes hardened.
“You haven't found what you were really looking for.”
Leo's pulse jumped.
“What does that mean?”
“It means people don't usually point guns at strangers because they need three hundred dollars.”
Silence.
Corey looked at Leo.
Leo looked away.
Mike had hit something.
Something neither of them wanted to discuss.
Because the truth was that Leo hadn't planned the robbery for the money.
Not really.
He had planned it because he was terrified.
Terrified of Richie.
Terrified of losing his apartment.
Terrified of being beaten.
Terrified that his life had become a tunnel with no exit.
The shotgun had made him feel powerful for the first time in months.
But now it felt heavier with every second.
Mike watched him carefully.
“You borrowed money,” he said.
Leo's eyes narrowed.
“How do you know?”
“You have the posture of a man being chased.”
Corey looked at him.
Mike continued.
“Your cousin doesn't want to be here.”
Corey swallowed.
“You're carrying a gun that isn't yours.”
Leo's expression changed.
“And you're trying to look brave because you're afraid your partner will see how frightened you are.”
Leo said nothing.
Mike leaned back.
“That's my guess.”
Declan finally spoke.
“It's a good guess.”
Leo's face burned.
“You don't know me.”
“No,” Declan said.
“But we've met men like you.”
Leo pointed the shotgun toward him.
“Don't.”
Declan didn't move.
“You don't have to.”
Leo's finger tightened.
Bobby's eyes narrowed.
Garrett's chair moved half an inch.
That tiny movement changed everything.
Leo noticed.
His breathing became faster.
Then Brenda spoke.
“Please.”
Everyone looked at her.
She stood behind the counter.
Her voice was quiet.
“Whatever happened before tonight, don't let tonight become something you can't undo.”
Leo looked at her.
“You don't understand.”
“I understand more than you think.”
Brenda's husband had died twelve years earlier.
Her children lived in different states.
She worked nights because loneliness was easier when there were people around.
She had seen men come into the diner broken.
She had seen men leave broken.
She had learned something over the years.
Anger was usually fear wearing a louder coat.
Leo looked down.
For one second, the shotgun dipped.
Mike noticed.
“That's it,” he said softly.
Leo looked up.
Mike pointed toward the weapon with his eyes.