Hayden's P.O.V.

*5 hours later*

"Where's the fucking safe, bitch?", one of the masked men blared at me as he pulled my hair ruthlessly.

"I've told you... I don't have a safe here. This is an art gallery not a fucking bank! You guys must be retarded to even think about robbing an art gallery. No one pays in cash here, checks and credit cards is what everyone uses to pay such amounts of money. And you can't walk out of here with paintings under your arms when the police has the whole place surrounded! You're just plain stupid!", I spat defiantly.

"Stupid bitch!", he raised his arm and slapped me hard in the face busting my bottom lip with the impact.

"Slapping me won't solve your stupidity!", I spat the blood in my mouth. He slapped my other cheek even harder.

"Shut the fuck up, skunk! You're gonna call to your bank now and ask them to deliver all the money on your account here... And you all gonna do the same!If you even refuse to it I'll put a fucking bullet to your head.", he threatened me and my seven possible clients.

"You're so stupid it hurts!", I spat. "Even if the bank agrees to something as orthodox as that, the cops will never let them get to the front door. And as soon as you connect that phone, it'll keep ringing until you talk to the cops.", smashing all the cell phones against the walls had been their first move which only left the telephone now.

"You'll talk to the cops and tell them whatever we allow you to. If you try anything smart I'll start shooting your precious clients.", he threatened. "Connect the fucking phone."

As I had foreseen, as soon as I connected the phone it started ringing. "You'll ask to talk to someone other than a cop, got it?", he ordered me. I nodded before I picked up the phone.

"Hello?", I said through the speaker.

"I'm officer Taylor from the LA PD... Who am I talking to?"

"My name is Hayden Somerhalder, I'm the owner of the gallery.", I said firmly as I felt his hatred gaze on me.

"How many people are being held hostages? Is anyone hurt?"

"Eight...Me and seven of my clients.No one is irreparably hurt, so far.", I replied earning a harsh push. "Can I talk to a civilian? They'd rather deal with someone other than a cop."

"They can't just do their demands to a civilian, miss Somerhalder. But they can talk to a negotiator." , officer Taylor explained me.

"He's saying that you can't do your demands to a civilian, but they can arrange it for you to talk to a negotiator.", I said to the criminal standing in front of me with his gun pressed against my temple.

"They'll do as I say if they don't want you dead! You'll be the one talking, and you'll be talking to a civilian. Not a fucking cop, not a goddamn negotiator, you'll be talking to a fucking civilian. Put that shit on a loudspeaker!", he demanded keeping his voice low.

I pressed the loudspeaker button and put the speaker back on its place. "No cop, no negotiator... They want a civilian or else they'll start shooting each one of us. Can you please get a fucking civilian on the phone?", I spat exasperated.

"It's not that easy! Not any civilian will agree on this. Could you please give us a few minutes to find someone willing to do the negotiations? I'll call you back...", officer Taylor asked.

"Five minutes is all you have...", I informed him as I saw the gesture the criminal was showing me.

"I won't need that much time.", he assured me and hanged up the phone.

I looked around the room; everyone was scared, no one seemed to be brave enough to put up against five armed men. If I knew someone would back me up, I would have taken care of the situation the soon as I was over the initial surprise but I knew just by looking at them that no one in that room would stand up against those fuckers.
The phone began to ring before the five minutes had passed.

"Put it on loudspeaker!", he ordered.

I answered the phone and put it immediately on loudspeaker. "Hello? Who am I talking to?", a familiar voice resonated in the room.

"Matt?", I asked warily.

"Hay? Is that you? Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Is anyone hurt?", he asked worriedly.

"Matt? What are you doing here? What the fuck are you doing in front of my gallery?", I asked harshly.

"Does it really matter?"

"This is not a fucking reunion! Who the hell is Matt? Is he a cop?", the assailant asked coldly.

"A cop? Are you fucking kidding me? Matt's my ex-boyfriend... He's a priest now!", I replied in the same tone.

"Who told you?", Matt asked.

"Word travels fast, Matthew. You haven't told me yet what you're doing outside my gallery!", my tone was bitter.

I hadn't heard his voice in over eight years, but it still had the same effect on me. All my body reacted to his voice the way it used to when we were still together. As much as I tried to deny myself all these years, I still loved him.

"I heard about the robbery on the TV, but it was my father who told me this was yours. I don't know how I got here."

"This ain't the place or the time to deal with your shit! Tell him our demands.", the man hissed at my ear.

"They're gonna call to the bank and they want that the cops let the bank clerk pass through them to the front door so he can deliver them the money.", I explained their demands.

A few moments of silence while Matt passed the word to the cops. "They'll allow it, Hay.", that was all Matt was able to say before the man standing in front of me leaned a bit and hung up the call.

"Call the fucking bank, now.", he ordered.

I picked up the phone again and made the call. "Hey. May I talk to the manager?", I asked as soon as someone picked up the phone.

"Good afternoon. Who should I announce?", a woman's voice asked.

"Hayden, Hayden Somerhalder."

"Could you please hold for a few minutes?", she asked politely.

"Sure, I'll hold.", I mumbled.

"What can I do for you, miss Somerhalder?", a male's voice asked a few moments after.

"I'd like to withdraw all the money from my account and have it delivered at the gallery. Is it possible?"

"When would you like it done?", he asked.

"Today... Is it possible?"

"I'm afraid I can't put that amount of money together till the end of the day. But I can have it delivered tomorrow afternoon. Is that okay for you?", he asked politely.

I looked up at my kidnapper and he nodded in response.

"Tomorrow is just fine. I'll see you tomorrow, then.", I said before I hung up.

"All of you, call your banks and do as she did!", the man demanded.

"We're gonna need something to eat if we're staying here the night.", I said bitterly.

"Call your ex-boyfriend and order him some take out.", he spat.

"I don't know their number... they called us, remember?", I replied coldly.

"You! Go to the fucking window and sign those fucking cops to call us.", he said pointing to one frighten girl.

She did as she was told and seconds later the phone was ringing. "Hello?", Matt's voice echoed in the room as I answered the phone.

"We're gonna need some food... Have someone deliver food for eight people, please.", the gun pointed to my head was now pressing harder against my temple. "Thirteen people, Matthew.", I corrected.

"Okay! Someone will the at the front door in a hour and a half with the food.", he assured before the kidnapper hung up the call again.

Everyone called to their bank asking for their money delivered at the gallery the next day, like I had done it for the next hour. One hour and a half had passed when someone knocked on the front door with our food.

"Go open the door!", he ordered pushing me up from the chair.

He followed me close by when I walked to the door. The boxes of pizza were keeping the delivery guy's face hidden.

"Get the fuck in if you don't want me to shoot her!", the kidnapper squealed.

The guy got in and it was only when I saw his colorful arms that I recognized him. My heart dropped when I realized who he was. I'd know those colorful sleeves anywhere. I offered to help him carry the boxes and the criminals allowed it.

"Brian? What the hell are you doing here? Are you crazy?", I whispered only for him to hear.

"Matt's idea! Now shut up before they suspect anything! What happened to your face?", he raised his hand trying to reach my broken lip, but I backed out a bit and he dropped his hand to his side.

"I don't know how to keep my mouth shut... You know me!", I half smiled only to regret it the moment later when my busted lip 'screamed' in pain. "What is Matt thinking, Bri?", I asked him.

Notes

hey ;)
Any thoughts about what is Matt thinking?
Comments? please?