Ria's Bank Job: Ria Miller and the Monsters, #1.5

By Nigel Henry

This bank has killer service.

My name is Ria Miller, and I'm a monster hunter. Whenever vampires, werewolves, and trolls get to biting, my parents and I are the ones who bite back.

Like our current case: a group of shapeshifters that has been robbing banks and dropping bodies across New York City. It's up to us to stop them before their next withdrawal. So I'm trading my mask and nightstick for a pantsuit and going undercover as a bank teller. But I might not be cut out for the service industry, because if the monsters don't kill my customers, I just might. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nigel Henry
• Release date: Oct 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9798201214722

Book preview

One

Cal tried to stifle the shiver that ran down his spine as the bank came into view. He wanted to be brave, but his heart began racing the moment he saw the bright green NightTrust Financial sign as it illuminated the corner of West 4th Street. Fear coursed through him, filling his every muscle and making him feel like he would tremble apart into bits.

A loud snort sounded to Cal’s right, and he turned to see Bryan rolling his eyes. Cut that shit out, will you? Bryan snapped. He put a brown hand to his face, adjusting his sunglasses and pulling his blue baseball cap down. "You’re making me nervous."

Sorry, Cal said, wishing he could will himself to be strong.

It’s fine, Cal, Rachel said as she moved past Bryan and gently stroked Cal’s head. Don’t you worry about it. Everything’s going to be just fine. Her words and touch soothed him, and Cal felt a little less afraid. He liked Rachel. She was always kind to him.

Then there was Dale. Cal watched Dale as the group drew closer to the bank entrance, seeing the way his lips pressed together tightly and his eyebrows furrowed. Dale didn’t say anything to reassure Cal. But that’s because he didn’t have to. Cal knew Dale would kill him if he screwed up.

You’re damn right, I will, Dale said, reading his thoughts. The words only served to make Cal more nervous. He didn’t want to screw up.

Just remember why we’re here, Rachel said. Just two more and we’re done. Done forever.

Exactly, Bryan said. So don’t fuck it up.

Cal suppressed another shiver and adjusted his wings. He hated being in the sparrow form right now. He felt so vulnerable, perched on Dale’s shoulder. The moment they walked into the bank, all eyes would be on him. The pressure made his stomach churn.

Bryan rolled his eyes. You don’t even have to do anything. Just look around and make sure we don’t get killed.

Everyone shut the fuck up, Dale hissed, and the entire pack fell silent. Such was the power of the pack leader. Dale glanced at his watch. Six-thirty. If Eric’s right, they should be arriving right … about … now.

At that moment a red armored car with the words STERLING SECURITY on it chugged past them and pulled up in front of the bank. Dale watched as two blue-shirted security guards stepped out of the vehicle and made their way to the back. Then he nodded to Cal.

Go.

Struggling to contain his nerves, Cal stretched his wings and took off. He circled the armored car twice, trying to notice every detail about the guards from his birds-eye view. Both were men, one tall, white and muscular, the other brown-skinned and slightly pudgy. They both had guns, but the pudgy one wore his pants slightly lower than his waistline. That meant it would take him an extra moment to reach the weapon. Rachel could take him. Bryan and Dale would handle the other.

He landed back on Dale’s shoulder, not needing to relay the information. That was one advantage of being part of the pack. Information flowed between them. Emotions, too, which is why Bryan wanted him to calm down. Thankfully, he felt a bit of Rachel’s poise. It helped.

Let’s go, Dale said. We do this quickly.

Cal’s fear grew as Dale started into the bank, Bryan and Rachel just a step behind. He felt dizzy and had to dig his feet into the threads of Dale’s denim jacket just to keep from falling off.

With Cal perched on his shoulder, Dale made his way to the back of a three-person line in front of a teller while Bryan and Rachel walked over to another banker and asked questions about opening an account.

Fly, Dale whispered. Cal took off, fluttering around the bank once, taking in the room. One extra security guard. He had a gun, but he was at the door. The others could take him. Everyone else was either old or weak. They wouldn’t fight. He hoped.

He landed on Dale’s shoulder as a small, gray-haired lady in front of them moved up to the teller and dropped a plastic bag on the counter with a clang.

I’d like to deposit these. Could you count them? she said to the teller, a skinny, clean-shaven man with orange hair. The man sighed, opened the bag, and sighed again.

Next in line?

A woman at the opposite end of the counter waved Dale over. She was thin, with dark black hair and a smile that made Cal feel sorry for what was about to happen.

She beamed at Cal as Dale walked