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Yankee cap said.
    The employees and customers quickly moved toward the nearby wall, but Spencer wasn't about to take his hands off of Max.
    "You, too," the hooded man said, waving his weapon at Spencer.
    "I'm not leaving my brother. At least let me try to keep him alive."
    "He's not important," Yankee cap said. "Let him be."
    The hooded man frowned but followed his partner's lead. They moved further away to discuss their options.
    Spencer pressed his hands down harder on Max's wound. "Hang in there, Max," he whispered. "Emma needs you. And so do I."

 
Chapter Five
     
    The man on the floor was going to die, Hallie thought, seeing the blood pooling under Max's body. He was going to bleed out right here on the floor of the bank. Her head spun with the realization, with the horror to come. Spencer was going to lose his brother. The groom was never going to get to his bride. It was tragic. And it had all happened so incredibly fast.
    She wanted to help. The nurse inside of her needed to help, but what could she do? She'd been ordered to stay put. And even if she hadn't, she'd given up on medicine months ago. She'd told herself that never again would she be faced with a life and death situation—never again would someone's entire existence be in her hands, because she wasn't up to the task. She'd let down her profession, her father, and herself. And she just wanted to put it all behind her.
    But there was a man in front of her who was dying. And Spencer didn't know exactly what to do. He was trying, but he wasn't getting it done.
    She licked her lips, fighting the panic still running around in her head. She could do this. She could try to help, she told herself.
    And then the hooded gunman suddenly pulled out his gun and started shooting.
    She instinctively hit the ground, heart pounding, waiting for the explosion of pain. But all she heard was a shower of glass. She slowly lifted her gaze, realizing that the man had simply shot out the security cameras.
    She tried to breathe, but it seemed almost impossible to take in air. The people next to her were crying. One of the women was praying. She felt like doing both, but in the past neither crying nor praying had gotten her anywhere.
    Max was whispering to his brother, encouraging him to fight. Maybe she needed to fight, too. She cleared her throat, but her voice still came out scratchy and rough. "You need to make a compress," she said to Spencer.
    Spencer looked at her, and she could see the fear in his eyes, but also the determination, and it gave her courage. "Can I help him?" she said more loudly, drawing the Yankee-capped gunman's gaze to her. "I'm a nurse."
    He gave her a long look, then shrugged. "Fine."
    Hallie got up and moved quickly to Spencer's side. She pulled the scarf off of her neck and bundled it up. Spencer lifted his fingers, and she shoved the material under his hands. "More pressure," she said. "Use the heels of your hands." As Spencer did as instructed, she took off her coat and threw it over Max's upper torso, wanting to keep him as warm as possible.
    The phone on the desk rang again. The two men still didn't answer it.
    She looked at Spencer. "They don't know what to do," she whispered, realizing that the robbers' indecision and inexperience might make this situation even worse.
    "No," he agreed. "We have to find a way to make them work with the cops. My brother can't die, Hallie. He's getting married today."
    "Then we need to do something fast," she said, meeting his gaze.
    "It's bad, isn't it?"
    She couldn't count how many times someone had asked her that question, how many times she'd had to crush a dream. She'd told herself she was done with all that, but here she was again. And her only answer was the truth. "Yes, it's bad."
     
    * * *
     
    Emma stood by the small window in the dressing room at the church. She had her arms wrapped around her waist, but she was still cold—icy cold. Fear and worry knotted her stomach, bringing nausea along with the