The Bar

6. Vigilant

Flint scolds himself as Clara abruptly leaves his office. He feels ashamed that he let himself go. He just wanted to calm her but instead he scared her. He felt a sense of guilt overcome him. He needed to let her know that he was sorry before she showed up tomorrow with her resignation.

He stormed out of the office, through the storage room and into the bar. He moved behind the bar and towards the front door, only to stop suddenly. She was in a frozen state, staring out the window. He moved to the side a little and caught a glimce of an angry man standing in front of the window. The man looked to his right, away from the window, he was talking to someone. The man looked familiar. Flint saw the man in the window move his jacket, placing a hand on his hip. A shiny piece of metal gleamed in view.
Flints heart raced as Clara moved slowly, taking her hand away from the doorknob.
He approached Clara from behind. Putting his palm over her mouth and his other arm around her waist. A muzzled shreik came from him palm, but it didn't alarm the man outside.
He lifted Clara up off the floor, slightly dragging her backwards away from the door.
He leaned his head down to her ear and shushed her. The smell of oranges filled his nostrils as he brushed his face against her hair.

He dragged her back to the storage room, out of view. He slightly loosened his hold, only to turn her. He pressed his first finger on his lips telling her to be quiet.
She was silent, her eyes filled with fearful tears and her body trembled, scared of what was taking place.

He pulled her back into his office. Dragging her by the hand, she followed, scared. Flint took her behind his desk. He let go of her hand and went for the shudders that covered the wall full of windows behind his desk. He closed them tightly then turned back to the frightened woman. She was leaning against his desk, frozen. He went to grab the phone behind her, leaning against her slightly. She leaned back nearly sitting on the desk. He took his office phone but once it pressed to his ear there was no dial tone. Be put the phone back and reached into his pocket taking his own cell phone out, he went to dial 911 but a sound shook the two of them.

A sharp blast echoed through the air. Flint felt Clara's hand grasp his t-shirt in fear. He pulled her to him and shifted her to the door by his desk.
He opened the closet and tried to push her inside but she shook her head annd refused.
"Please, its okay, I'm coming back," he whispered as he pushed her back to the closet. Before closing the closet door, he looked at the frightened girl and felt his heart swell with an foreign feeling.
The men had guns that was for sure, but so did Flint. The scottsman was a good shot, and he was willing to kill anyone to protect the innocent brown haired beauty that currently stood in his closet.
Without another thought, Flint leaned to Clara and pressed his lips on hers. It was in the moment, wanting to at least have something of her if one of the intruders got lucky and shot him in the process.
His tongue tasted her bottom lip then moved away, pulling her lips away in the process.
She was shocked, her mouth agap.
What did he just do? Why would he do that? Did she imagine it?
Once he pulled away he closed the closet, leaving her in a frozen, confused, state.

Flint hurried to his desk, he reached under his desk, ripping the taped colt python from underneath.
He checked and made sure it was loaded and ready. With the gun in his hand, he pulled out his phone with the other and dialed 911.

The police arrived. No men were outside or inside. There was a shell found on the ground near the front door. The polie collected it for evidence then took Flint and Clara's statements.

Flint stood close to Clara, refusing to leave her side. She was scared from being in the small closet for so long and from the men who had tried to get in.
Kranston had heard the call on the radio and drove strait to the bar.
The bald detective walked inside with worry. He walked through the bar and to the back office.
When he entered he saw the large red headed scottsman from earlier standing close to a tall, thin, very small framed woman. She was young, pretty, scared and was attached to the large owner.
Kranston approached the pair, as he did, he saw the man place an arm around the woman turning her to him. He leaned down and talked to her, calmly. His hands gripped her arms and looked her in the eyes.
The woman was scared, maybe of him, maybe of the situation, but either way she was somewhat important in this case. Kranston knew in his gut there was something more, something amiss. The pieces weren't adding up.

Flint leaned down to Clara, gripping her arms calmingly.
"Thats the detective whos looking into who broke into the bar," he explains refering to the large bald man approaching them.

"Mr. Adler...hello, I'm detective Kranston," The detective greeted the man then turned his attention to the woman.

"Clara," she said.

"Clara Bowen, yes, I've been meaning to talk to you," the man says.

Flint lets out a deep breath and motions the woman to sit down in the chair in front of the desk, she obeys. The detective sits in the other chair moving it to be in front of her.

"Do you remember what the man from last night looked like? The man who grabbed your wrist," the detective asks.

She thought for a moment.

"No facial hair, no hair at all actually. He was tall, not a large build, he was older, around his late 40s or early 50s. He had brown eyes, very scary eyes actually. He kept smiling so I thought he was nice, but his eyes were...different," she explains.

"Did he wear glasses? Did he have any marks or tattoos?"

"His...right arm I think, was tattooed completely, maybe his left. I don't know what it looked like, it was a bunch of different tattoos."

Flint noticed her shake slightly as she remembered the man. He placed his hands on her shoulders, slightly tightening his grip to rub them.

"Did he say anything to you that might have stood out?" The detective asks, he holds out his phone, recording her answers.

"Um...I can't remember much, he said, he did say that I looked familiar. I didn't recognize him though," she explains, leaning back into Flint's grasp.

"Your sure you don't know him?"

"Yea, i'm sure," She replies then looked up at Flint who stands over her. He looked down into her beautiful green eyes. She looked away, remembering the softness of his lips, feeling guilt.
She looked at the detective again.
He stood up and sighed.

"Mr. Adler, I'll call you if I find anything," he says. Then he looks back at the small woman.
"Call me if you remember anything," he says extending a card.
She nods as the man turns and leaves.
Once the man is gone, she lets out a sigh and stands up, her legs weak from her fear.

"You okay?" Flint asks.
"I think I should go home...I um..." she mumbles a little then turns to the door, leaving Flint in a state of confusion, not knowing what to do next.