His eyes glimmered in the dark. "I carried you."
She gulped. Obviously a few extra pizza pounds hadn't overly strained the guy. "You carried me all the way to the roof?"
"I … used the elevator." He pulled a cell phone from his back pocket. "I'll call someone to pick us up."
Us? Who was he kidding? She didn't trust him any farther than she could spit. But he had saved her from the hit men. And so far, he'd behaved like a gentleman. She ventured toward the edge of the building, keeping a safe distance from the mysterious rescuer.
She glanced down. Wow, he'd been honest with her. They were across the street from the clinic.
Three black sedans were double-parked in the street, and a group of men stood there, talking.
Planning how to kill her. She was so screwed. Maybe she could use an ally. Maybe she should trust the crazy but gorgeous Wolfman.
"Radinka?" He held the cell phone against his cheek. "Can you give me Laszlo's cell phone number?"
Radinka? Laszlo? Were those Russian names? Her skin chilled with goose bumps. Oh God. Big trouble. This guy was probably pretending to be her friend so he could lure her away from the city and-
"Thanks, Radinka." He punched in a new number.
Shanna looked around and located the stairway entrance. Now, if she could just ease over there without him noticing.
"Laszlo." His voice became authoritative. "Bring the car back immediately. We have an emergency situation here."
Shanna moved slowly. Quietly.
"No, you don't have time to go to the lab. Turn around now." A slight pause. "No, I didn't get the tooth fixed. But I have the dentist with me." He glanced her way.
She froze and tried to look bored. Maybe she should hum a tune, but all that came to mind was the one she'd heard earlier in the evening. "Strangers in the Night." Well, that fit.
"Have you turned around yet?" Wolfman sounded irritated. "Good. Now, listen carefully. Do not, I repeat, do not drive past the clinic. Go one block north of the clinic, and we'll meet you there. Do you understand?"
Another pause. He turned to look over the ledge. Shanna resumed her stealthy approach to the stairway.
"I'll explain later. Just follow my directions, and we'll be safe."
She slipped past the patio furniture.
"I know you're just a chemist, but I have full confidence in your abilities. Remember, we don't want anyone else to know about this. And now that I think about it, is our … passenger still in the car with you?" Wolfman walked toward the corner of the building, keeping his back to her and his voice low.
So the rascal didn't want her to hear this. Can you hear me now? The phrase goaded her. No, she couldn't hear,dammit. Quickly she tiptoed after him. Her old ballet teacher would have been impressed with her speed.
"Look, Laszlo. I'll have the dentist with me, and I don't want to alarm her any more than necessary.
So take Vanna out of the backseat and stick her in the trunk."
Shanna halted. Her mouth dropped open. Her throat seized up, making it hard to breathe.
"I don't care how much crap you have in the trunk. We're not driving around with a naked body in the car."
Oh no! She gasped for air. He was a hit man.
He whirled around suddenly to face her. With a strangled squeak, she leaped back.
"Shanna?" He turned off the phone and held it out to her.
"Stay away from me." She backed away, fumbling in her purse.
He frowned. "Don't you want your phone back?"
That was her phone? He was a murderer and a thief. She yanked out her Beretta and pointed it at him. "Don't move."
"Not that again. I can't help you if you keep fighting me."
"Yeah, like you really want to help me." She eased toward the staircase. "I heard you talking to your friend. 'Oh, Laszlo, we have company. Put the dead body in the trunk. "
"It's not what you think."
"I'm not stupid, Wolfman." She continued to move toward the stairs. At least he was staying put and not making any moves. "I should have shot you the first time."
"Do not fire the weapon. The men below will hear it. They'll come up here, and I'm not sure I can defeat all of them."
"All of them? My, don't we think highly of ourselves."
His eyes darkened. "I have some special talents."
"Oh, I bet you do. I bet that poor girl in the trunk could say a lot about your special talents."
"She's incapable of speech."
"Well, duh! Once you kill someone, they tend to be lousy conversationalists."
His mouth twitched.
She reached the stairway door. "If you come after me, I'll kill you."
She pulled the door open, but in the blink of an eye, he was there. He slammed the door shut, wrenched the gun from her hand, and tossed it aside. It hit with a clunk and skittered across the rooftop. She squirmed, wiggled, kicked at his shins. He grabbed her by the wrists and pinned her against the door.
"By God, woman, you are hard to control."
"You better believe it." She pulled against his grip, but couldn't free her wrists.
He leaned closer. His breath stirred her hair and feathered her brow. "Shanna," he whispered her name like a cool breeze.
She shivered. His hypnotic voice tugged at her, lulling her into a sensation of comfort and security.
False security. "I won't let you kill me."
"I don't want to kill you."
"Good. Then let me go."
He lowered his head, his breath tickling her throat. "I want you alive. Warm and alive."
Another shiver zigzagged through her body. Oh God, he was going to touch her. Maybe even kiss her. She waited, her heart hammering in her chest.
His voice whispered in her ear, "I need you."
She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut when she realized how close she'd come to saying yes.
He moved back, still gripping her wrists. "I need you to trust me, Shanna. I can protect you."
Her headache returned with a vengeance, cold pain stabbing at her temples. She gathered all her strength, every fiber of resistance, and rammed her knee into his groin.
Breath whooshed out of him, strangling his shout before it could erupt from this throat. Only a few garbled croaks emerged. He doubled over and fell to his knees. His complexion, pale before, turned a mottled red.
Shanna winced. She'd gotten him good. She spotted her gun beneath the patio table and ran to collect it.
"Holy Mother of God!" he gasped, supporting himself on all fours. "That hurts like hell."
"It's supposed to, big guy." She dropped her Beretta back in her purse, then sprinted for the staircase.
"I never-no one's ever done that to me." He gazed up at her, his contorted expression of pain mellowing into a look of stunned wonder. "Why?"
"Just one of my special talents." She stopped at the staircase door and grasped the knob. "Don't follow me. Next time, I'll shoot you down there." The door opened with a loud, scraping noise.
She stepped onto the stairway landing and let go of the door. With a loud creak, it started to swing shut. She was halfway down the stairs when it closed with a final bang and left her in total darkness.
Great. She slowed her pace. The last thing she wanted was to act like one of those girls in the movies, always tripping and twisting her ankle, then lying there helpless and screaming when the bad guy arrived. The banister ended, and she was on the bottom landing. She inched forward with her hands stretched out until she reached the door.
She yanked the door open and was greeted by light. The hallway was empty. Good. She ran to the elevator. A sign dangled in front of the metal doors. Out of Order. Damn! She glanced back over her shoulder. So the scumbag had lied to her. He couldn't have brought her up the elevator. She looked around for a service elevator, but couldn't see one. However he'd gotten her on the roof, she didn't have time to worry about it.
She located the central stairwell. Thank God it was lit inside. She rushed down the flights of stairs and reached the ground floor. There was no noise behind her. Thank God. It appeared that Wolfman was not giving chase. She inched open the stairwell door and peered outside. The lobby was dimly lit and empty. The building's main entrance boasted two glass doors. Through them, she could see the black cars and hit men.
She slipped into the lobby, and hugging the walls, she retreated toward the back entrance. The glowing red exit sign called to her like a beacon, promising freedom. Safety. She'd find a taxi, go to some obscure little hotel, and then, in the safety of her room, she'd call Bob Mendoza again. And if the U.S. marshal was still missing, she'd empty her bank account in the morning and take a train somewhere. Anywhere.
She peeked outside, saw no one, then exited the building. Immediately a strong arm encircled her waist and pulled her back against a rock-hard body. A hand smacked across her mouth in an iron grip. She kicked at his shins and stomped on his feet.
"Stop it, Shanna. It's me," a now familiar voice whispered in her ear.
The Wolfman? How could he have beaten her down the stairs? She moaned her frustration against his hand.
"Come on." He pulled her down the street, past a row of empty umbrella tables. A banner fluttered overhead, announcing the name of the bistro. The next shop had a glass storefront, lined with burglar bars. He dragged her into the recessed doorway. The awning overhead shaded them from the street lamps. "Laszlo will be here soon. Just stay quiet until he arrives."