The Emotional Conviction

By Troy Moore

Ryan Johnas has a particular talent. Known as The Black Saint, he robs banks for a living, thriving on the adrenalin rush of excitement that comes with stealing other people’s money. Now, the FBI has had enough and are willing to go to almost any lengths to capture their number one target. They send in agent Jeanne Burns, a woman who is as beautiful as she is deadly, in a bid to finally take him down. It doesn’t take Jeanne long to find Ryan and infiltrate his gang. Before long she isn’t just having drinks in bars. She’s a part of his life, and more, sharing his bed at night as well.

She’s in deep and falling for the man she’s supposed to be setting up to fail. As Ryan plans his last job, the one that will set him and his crew up for life, Jeanne is left in a quandary. Does she do her job and set him up, or does she follow her heart? The stakes are high, and one wrong move could mean the end of not just their relationship, but their lives as well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Troy Moore
• Release date: Nov 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463077849

Troy Moore

Troy Moore a self-taught independent author who enjoys the excitement of city life and the calm of quiet nights.Troy, a city slicker by heart, who has a passion to create and write exciting books grew up in North Philadelphia just as the famous comedian Kevin Hart, rising from the same part town out of Philly, inspiring his memoir, STANDING IN MY LANE, A memoir of an reality urban American dream."Everything that happens in our lives is pages from our life journey," Troy says, "and sometimes the best stories are true."

Book preview

THE EMOTIONAL CONVICTION

BY TROY MOORE

TABLE OF CONTENT

Chapter 1- A very good bad day

Chapter 2- The bar

Chapter 3- Jeanne Burns

Chapter 4- Fireworks

Chapter 5- Passion of the forbidden kind

Chapter 6- Betrayal at it’s finest

Copyright © 2018 by Troy Moore

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact the publisher.

Chapter 1- A very good bad day

The day was good, a very, very, very good day. It was, in fact, such a good day that no one could ever think that something could go wrong, or something could go bad. It was a beautiful day, to say the least. It was a wonderful, wonderful day, and it was amazing. People were out with their children having fun. Seniors were sitting out on the park bench. People were out jogging and cars riding pass blasting music. A day that could be described as one of the most perfect days within the last couple of weeks. The venue was so crowded with people shopping you would think every store on the strip was having a sale.

Of course, the sound of the doors smacking open was nothing that was to be considered beautiful.

GET ON THE GROUND! 5 gunshots left the gun as people screamed and shouted, getting on the ground. No one even wanted to know where the man that had suddenly blasted through the doors had come from, but he had just rushed inside of the bank with a gun in his hand, his face masked and his clothes black. He looked like a typical robber, with a typical gun, and a typical intention in mind. To rob the bank. "By now if you haven’t figured it out, yes I am a robber, and yes, I am going to rob this bank. If you love your life and love your money, you won’t move and I will not kill you!"

Everybody get down! It was a masculine shout being heard over all the other noise. This is an assault! Everybody lay on the floor, face down, hands on the head and stay still!

Some people immediately obeyed, others panicked and tried to run. One of the robbers shot on the ceiling to prove they were serious. Everybody understood and followed the orders. There were 3 men, all in black outfits with black face masks, only the eyes showing. Each one had a semi-automatic pistol and they acted with a confidence that made it clear: they knew what they were doing and everyone understood it was the one that had come in first that was the leader.

People were on the floor too, nose touching the cold dusty floor, hearing everything but not daring to look around. They only hoped that the robbers would get the money and get the hell out of there, and it would be over. It would have been nothing more than a big scare.

There was a woman's scream followed by an aggressive male voice, Shut the fuck up, bitch! but she didn't dare to look.

In seconds, one of the criminals bent down to a girl, passed an arm around her chest and pulled her to himself in one strong movement, making her stand. Caught by surprise, she let a cry out and nearly lost her balance, but the man held her tightly against himself. When she felt the cold metal of his gun on the side of her head, she held her breath and shut her eyes tightly.

Do what I say if you want to live, bitch! he yelled to her, loudly enough for the whole bank to hear. Don't try me!

That was Max. He was a tall man with a built, strong body that, alone, imposed enough respect.

The girl let herself be dragged without resistance. Max stood with her close to the leader of the band, who was dealing with the bankers and hurrying them to fill some bags with money. He had a woman in her early thirties hostage. Mike held a young executive and was busy controlling the bank costumers and making sure no one would get in the gang's way.

Two security guards lay unconscious on the floor, one with a thin thread of blood flowing from his forehead.

The last robber was given three full bags of money and the three men hurriedly left the bank, protecting themselves with the hostages. Before exiting, Donald stood at the entrance door, shot above his head and yelled: If the police even think of following us, these people here are dead!

They hushed into the back of a truck parked in front of the bank, right onto a truck. Of course, they didn’t expect gunshots to come from behind them.

The Leader cursed and threw the hostage that he had taken to the side. He knew that now it was completely useless, the Police had gotten on top of the bank building. That is why he didn’t want to take this building so easily, the building was small, short and was easily scalable. The Police would have hidden down there, and no one had thought of checking behind, he included. He didn’t want to get caught, no way in utter hell.

He noticed a gunshot being fired right into the thief that was beside him and didn’t care. He knew that one of them was going to die, and it had to be the one that was most arrogant and most foolish. The other 2, newbies, as he called them, rarely worked together, and rarely worked with him, and now when they did work with him, they weren’t even shooting back and he wasn’t going to either. The only lucky thing that he had over the others was that his identity was something neither of the 2 knew. They had agreed to work together because of a certain....... someone, and they only did so because of the fact that he didn’t want to work alone on this one, this was a difficult one. But the following gunfight was going to be murderous.

BANK ROBBERY ON THE MAIN COURTYARD.

In a surprising turn of events, the Main Courtyard Branch of the Citibank was robbed yesterday afternoon. The Main Courtyard, which is known to be a very, very peaceful and quiet place was unusually loud and even gory, as the robbers and the police instigated a full-on gunfight at each other. What appeared to be 3 robbers had infiltrated the bank and robbed it of $350,000 in cold, hard cash that day all managed to escape the bank with 3 hostages, and bags full of money. As a saving grace, the police had managed to get above the bank and shoot the robbers from the back, but the gunfight that followed was neither easy nor good. It was bloody and it was dangerous, and it was not what many were looking to when they came to the courtyard for fun that day.

The following account is that of a Contributor and a witness to the entire bank, Mr. Jimmy Carnall, a musician that was playing his little violin on the right beside the bank.

I watched as the three men got out of the car. One was at the trunk unpacking numerous bags, another two were chatting. It seemed like the three men were in uniform as they all wore black; black suits, black shades, black bags, even the car was black. Still, I didn't need to observe whatever they were doing,