Just like almost every night I spent in jail my dreams ripped me out of my sleep.

I let out a loud grunt as I tried to figure out where I was, looking around wildly as I waited for my eyes to focus. For a moment I believed that I was still back in my cell, back in that cramped piece of shit with the three men I shared it with. I took a deep breath and cleared my head, realizing that I was still in the Double H bar.

My nails dug into the wood bar counter as I tried to shake the remaining thoughts about my dream. It was always the same one, the night when Zeke died. I’d always try as hard as I could to save him, thinking that maybe if I saved him in my dream I’d find peace, but even in my dream I’d fail.

I felt a burning in my gut, right in the spot where the bullet hit me, I always felt that burn right after having that dream. I lifted up my shirt and looked at the scar, the scar that pierced right through a what used to be one of my favorite tattoos. It just reminded me about how temporary everything really was.

I leaned over the bar and took an opened bottle of water, pouring it into my hand and splashing it onto my face as I tried to wake myself up.

“Can’t let this happen again” I said to myself as I stretched my sore neck. I looked around to see the bar completely empty, even at 5 in the morning that was a rarity, before my stint in Jail I had passed out here a few times before and normally I had a few other people here with me.

The door opened, letting the sunlight in, at least this time my dream woke me up in during the day.

I put my hand up to shield my eyes from the light, I couldn’t make out who it was but I assumed that it had to be Wyatt or Clay coming in to check on me, possibly even to make fun of me for choosing a bar counter over my bed that’s been calling my name for 2 years.

“Jeez you assholes couldn’t have dragged me back home?” I said still trying to make out who it was.

“Shut up!” I heard a female voice shakily cry out.

The door closed, blocking the sunlight and letting me see who was standing in front of me.

There standing only a few feet away from me was a girl, couldn’t have been older than 20. She was wearing a frilly pink dress and had sweat running down her body. She was barefoot and now standing in a puddle of spilled beer, in her hands she held a pistol pointed straight at me.

This had to be some kind of joke.

“What did you get dumped from the prom or something?” I asked jokingly. I looked at her up and down and began to really take her in. The more I looked at her the more I realized that this girl was drop dead gorgeous. Even through that weird getup that she had on I could see that she had an amazing body, accented by her curves that I’m sure would have looked stunning in a proper outfit. Sweat was rolling down her neck and cleavage, glistening in the little light that the bar windows let in.

She had this delicate face, a face that looked innocent yet… in her eyes… deep in those emerald green eyes you could see that she had seen things that she wished she could forget. Maybe whatever she saw was the reason why she was standing here in front of me, pointing that hopefully fake gun right at my face.

I had no idea what she did before she came here but her hair was a mess, a crazy ball of light brown fury that made her look like she got struck by lightning, despite that her beauty was a sight for sore eyes. Well she was, that handgun wasn’t.

Her breathing was short and quick as she struggled to hold onto the gun. I’ve had a gun pointed at me by countless numbers of men before, not to mention a handful of women, but this was different. She was moments away from crying, was she one of the club’s girls? One of the girls our guys passed around for fun and entertainment? We called them club property, but this girl was far too pretty to be one of the girls we practically kept on a leash for whenever we needed to get off.

She struggled with the gun for a few moments before finally cocking it, turns out it was real.

She walked over and pressed it against my head, jabbing me hard in the temple with it.

“Y-you’re gonna empty out that cash register over there” she stuttered out, she could barely even keep the gun steady to my head. It almost sounded like she didn’t want to do this, like she couldn’t believe those words came out of her own mouth.

“And why would I do that?”

“Just do it!” she yelled out.

“Guess you leave me no choice…” I replied.

I slowly stood up and walked around the bar, waiting to see if she would mess up. She kept the gun trained on me the whole time as I reached the cash register, opening it up and putting the money into a neat stack as I began to count it.

“You’re a lucky girl, there’s $1200 here in total, not bad for your first heist.”

I looked up at her as I walked back around the bar and approached her.

“This is your first heist isn’t it?”

She stayed quiet but kept the gun aimed straight for my chest as I walked closer to her, I couldn’t stop myself from checking her out. Even with that getup on and with that gun pointed right at me she was damn fine, but I had let this go on for long enough.

I held the money out to her and just like the amateur she was she reached out to grab it.

Wrong move.