Her husband removed his hand and stared at his fingers. There was blood on them.
“What the hell do you want?” he demanded.
“Shut up,” the first one said. The man was large, his voice husky. A tuft of red hair peeked out from behind his mask. He had a gun, accounting for the blood in Marc’s mouth. “Just shut the fuck up and you might just live.”
“Oh, God, Marc, please…,” April murmured, her heartbeat now accelerating wildly. Her thoughts flashed to her children sleeping down the hall. Just keep them away.
The second man shut the bedroom door behind him. The one with the gun came over and pulled April off the bed. “Get up. Put your hands behind your back.” His accomplice took out a roll of duct tape from his uniform and twisted April’s wrists behind her back, binding them tightly. She looked at her husband with fear in her eyes as he ran a second piece of tape across her mouth.
“What do you want with us?” Marc pleaded, helpless, watching his wife being bound. “Listen, I’ve got a safe downstairs. We’ve got some money…” He shot April a steadying look, as if he was trying to say, Hang in there, honey. It’ll be okay. That’s why they’re here. For the money.
This isn’t the first one. No one’s been hurt so far.
“Where?” the one with the gun demanded.
“Downstairs. In the study. I’ll show you. Look, we haven’t seen your faces. We don’t know who you are. Just take what you want and let us go, okay?”
“Show me.” The man with the gun grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up.
That was when, to both their horror, the bedroom door opened again and their daughter, Becca, halfasleep, wearing a baby-blue Greenwich High sweatshirt and rubbing her eyes, wandered in. “What’s going on, guys…?”
Before she could even let out a scream, the second intruder grabbed her and covered her mouth.
“Please don’t hurt her!” Marc begged, seeing his daughter’s face turn white with alarm. “She’s just a kid…”
Eyes wide, April struggled against her bonds, trying to go to her. Oh, baby, no, no…
Becca tore the man’s hand away. “Mom!”
They watched, unable to do a thing, as the second intruder wrapped the tape around Becca’s mouth and roughly bound her hands. Her uncomprehending eyes were round with fear.
“Throw ’em in there,” the man with the gun directed his accomplice, pointing to the master closet. Becca, who had always had a fear of small spaces, twisted her head back and forth, trying to resist. Unheeding, the accomplice shoved the two of them in. April fell to the floor, twisting against her bonds. Don’t do anything foolish, she tried to say to Marc, desperation in her eyes. Just give them what they want. Please…
They shut off the lights in the closet and closed the door.
Her daughter let out muffled screams, writhing against April in the dark. All April could do was huddle as close as she could, trying to convey with all her strength that everything would be okay. Just stay calm, baby. They’re only here for money. They’re going to leave and this will all be okay. Daddy will come get us. I promise, honey, please…
Tears glistened in her teenage daughter’s eyes. April put her head against her, trying to transfer all her conviction and strength, and she began to think, Her hair is so soft and she smells so pure, my little girl…Now she’ll remember this the rest of her life. You bastards. You’ve stolen the innocence from her. Her trust. Her thoughts flashed to Marc downstairs—Marc, please, just give them anything! Don’t do anything heroic. Just let them go—and then to Evan, only seven, sleeping down the hall, her sweet little baby. Just sleep, honey, through it all. It’s going to be okay…Please, Evan, please. It’s—
That was when she heard the sound: two far-off pops, coming from downstairs.
April and Becca looked at each other. She’d heard it too. April’s heart began to leap with fear.
Marc.
Panicked, tears started to run down her cheeks. What did you do, Marc? What did you fucking do?
Suddenly, there were footsteps. Heavy ones, pounding back up the stairs. Becca squealed, her large eyes doubling in size. The whole house seemed to shake.
What did you do?
Desperately, April fought against her bonds. She looked at her daughter. All she could do was simply press herself into her as tightly as she could, panic building in her daughter’s eyes.
My babies…April started to cry, her thoughts flashing to Evan as the approaching thuds entered the room. Oh my God, what’s going to happen to him, my poor little sleeping boy? Do whatever you have to do to me, but please, not him. Not to Becca.
The closet door flung open. Light burst into their eyes.
Not my babies, April tried to scream. She threw herself in front of Becca. Not them, not them…She stared back at the hooded faces with eyes that were both begging and defiant.
Please…
“Remind me again,” Annie Fletcher asked, wiggling out of her navy U of Michigan T-shirt. “Why is it they always call it blue Monday?”
“No idea,” Hauck gasped, his breaths quickening, gulping in air.
She rocked above him, hands balanced against the rattling headboard, swaying in perfect rhythm to the thrust of his thighs. Annie’s body was small and light, but her breasts were full, and her short, dark hair fell over her face, still messy from sleep.
In the background, the newscaster on the early morning show announced brightly that it was going to be a clear and sunny day.
“Never gonna think that way again,” she said, starting to really heat up. Because of the demands of her restaurant and Hauck’s new job—not to mention her son, Jared, moving east with her and boarding five days a week at a nearby school for kids with special needs—they only got to see each other a couple of days a week, and so things tended to be very physical between them.
“Me either,” Hauck huffed, cupping her thighs, the rush of climax coming on.
They had been together for six months now—on and off, mostly on—Annie’s responsibilities at the restaurant clashing a bit with Hauck’s commitment to the new job. She didn’t push for more. He didn’t offer. Annie was trusting and open. It wasn’t so much a relationship as it was a loose, easy friendship—with benefits—what time would allow.
Their rhythm grew faster and faster. Sweat coated their skin. “Thought you had to get to the market…,” he said to her, feeling her breaths beginning
