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  A tremor of disappointment shook her. One thing was for sure—she didn’t want to be here when he woke up.

  First, she had to find out who he was. She bent down and reached into the inside pocket of his coat. A metallic object filled her palm. She pulled it out and held the object up to the shaft of light. The blood pumping through her veins slowed to a crawl as she read the writing on the badge: Swiss Polizei.

  She sucked in a breath and shook her head. A cop? He wasn’t dressed in uniform, not wearing a radio . . . what the hell? Wouldn’t there be more of them if they’d come to arrest her? They sure as hell wouldn’t have broken into her apartment.

  Ubrigg must have the cops working for him illegally—but why? She tucked the badge back in his coat and turned her attention to the gun near his hip. She lifted the heavy weapon out of his loose grip, turned, and fled to her bedroom. A flash of lightning lit the space. Her mattress was flipped over, half on the bed, half on the floor. The drawers of the dresser either hung out or lay on the carpet, their contents scattered across the room. A long piece of gray material dangled from one of the open drawers, and she snatched it. Changing clothes was a must. She’d stick out like a sore thumb running the streets in pajamas. She set the gun on the top of the dresser, shucked off her silk bottoms and pulled the yoga pants on, then stripped off her tank top and fit an oversized hoodie over her head. All she needed now was her phone and the drive. Thanks to her paranoia, she had a bag packed in her getaway car.

  Another flash of lightning illuminated the pair of flats on the top shelf of the closet. She reached up, pulled down the left shoe, and dug her fingers inside.

  Oh no! Had they found it?

  Dani shook the shoe and sighed with relief as the drive fell into her palm. Slipping into the flats, she turned to survey the disaster. She couldn’t waste much time searching for her phone—the brute would wake any second. But if the police found it, they’d see Sven was involved. The whole job would be compromised and he’d be in danger, too. Her toe hit something small, and the object skittered under the bed frame. She dropped to the floor and groped in the direction it had gone. Her fingers brushed a smooth glass surface.

  Ah-ha! Yes!

  She scooped up the device, tucked it into the pocket of her sweater, and then placed the flash drive in the tiny pocket in the waistband of her pants. Grabbing the gun, she retraced her steps down the hall and paused near the kitchen, holding the weapon low in front of her. Splayed black shoes were visible through the doorway, assuring her one of the intruders was still unconscious. She opened the apartment door, searched the hallway for moving shadows—empty—and rushed out. The vise squeezing her lungs loosened. Almost free. As long as she didn’t bump into the other guy, she’d be in the clear.

  She blinked as she shimmied down the hallway. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. Trailing her fingertips along the wall, she counted the units. Three more and she’d round the corner to the old woman’s apartment and the fire exit would be only feet away.

  Her fingers floated off the cliff of the wall, alerting her to the corner. She turned left and the red light above the stairway shone like a beacon. She placed her palm on the door handle and shoved. A scuffle sounded behind her and her stomach lurched. She tried to whirl around but rough hands snagged her shoulders, shoving her against the wall.

  “Fucking bitch! Where is it? Where’s the data?” The man lifted a gun to her head. The red light above the door coated his skin in a blood-like glow. The gun in her hand grew heavier. Energy bubbled over her nerve endings as she lifted the weapon to his waist. Terror gripped her consciousness, robbing her of the ability to speak.

  “Talk or I shoot!” He lowered his gun so it was level with her heart. Her throat clenched. If she shot him, he’d shoot her right back.

  Meow!

  Her attacker jumped, jostling the gun away from her.

  Yes! My little buddy.

  She curled her finger around the trigger and pulled.

  Crack!

  The man’s body jerked back as he howled. His hands released her to staunch the blood flowing from the wound at his midsection. She ripped her back away from the wall and dove for the exit. The poor animal flashed through her mind, but all she could do was pray it had fled.

  When her feet hit the stairs, gunshots whistled from the end of a silencer. She didn’t stop. One emergency fluorescent light lit each floor of the stairwell, and they flashed over her senses as she barrelled downward. She slammed into the last door and the stench of wet grass hit her face. Cold air rushed into her nose as her lungs seized the opportunity to gulp air. Sirens screeched, breaking the peace of the night. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Red and blue strobes bounced off the side of the building. She pushed on.

  Water soaked through the thin canvas of her flats and her toes went numb as she sprinted through some trees and across a side street to a back alley. The muscles in her legs ached and her lungs and nostrils burned with the frigid air. Slowly, she brought her sprint to a jog then a brisk walk.

  She had to call someone. But there were only two people in the world she could call for help. Two people who would move heaven and earth to get to her. Indecision warred within her. The last thing Serena needed was to worry about her.

  That left one person. She brought her phone to life and pressed the numbers permanently etched in her mind.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Mmm. Let’s get out of here.” Candace’s gloss-covered lips brushed over his, sending desire through Brock’s body.

  He tangled his fingers in her red locks and pulled his mouth away from hers. A bass beat rattled through the soles of his boots. Tasha’s bar was a happening place, and when his buddy Milo, Dani’s sister Serena’s fiancé, had asked him to help bounce on weekends, he’d agreed. Tonight, he wasn’t on duty, but since he’d met Candace at The Fainting Goat last weekend, they’d agreed to meet here for dinner.

  Only because he needed the distraction. Needed to get out. Needed to get Dani Metcalf off his mind and another woman into his lap. Like Candace. She was full in all the right places. Her red dress hugged each contour and swell of her body.

  Still nothing like Dani’s.

  A memory flashed through his mind, taking hold of his breath. Her laugh. God, he loved her laugh, and he suffered every day that he couldn’t hear that giggling sound that started with a rumble in her throat. Her eyes were the clearest aquamarines he’d ever seen. So sharp, so intense, they could turn from sultry to damn near diabolical in seconds. While he was attracted to Candace’s red curtain of hair, there was no way in hell it was natural. Not like the soft hay color of Dani’s. He shook his head, releasing the image he so desperately wanted to cling to.

  “No? You don’t want to?” Candace said with a pout, bringing him back to the moment.

  He looped his arm around her, dropped some bills on the table, and stood. “Hell yeah, I do. Let’s go.”

  Her palm pressed down on his shoulder. “Wait here. I need to tinkle first.” She winked, scooped up her small purse-thingy, and sashayed away.

  Tinkle? Geez, why did some grown women talk like they were children? So annoying. He lifted his phone, which he’d laid facedown on the table. One missed call. He usually didn’t check his phone while he was at the bar. Any one of his associates would know where to find him, and Milo had just left. He frowned. The number was longer than his arm. Something from overseas. Telemarketer, probably. Whatever. They’d called over an hour ago. Couldn’t have been important.

  A few minutes later, Candace’s swaying hips caught his eye. She curled into him. Her frame was much taller than Dani’s slight one, which could snuggle under his arm.

  Jesus. He hadn’t had it this bad before. When he and Dani broke it off a few years ago, he’d been too mad to miss her this much. But after she’d been kidnapped and he’d forked out a hundred and fifty grand—plus organized a heist with Milo—to get her back, he hadn’t been able to chase her from his mind.


  And in true Dani fashion, she’d run.

  His phone buzzed against his thigh and he fished it out. The same foreign number lit the screen. Long, red fingernails covered his phone. “Hey, no distractions,” Candace sang sweetly.

  He met her heavily made up eyes. He needed this release, to get lost with Candace for a night, but for fuck’s sake he’d never enjoy himself if he had the nagging sensation of someone trying to reach him.

  “One sec, honey.” Plucking her hand off his device, he swiped to answer it. The number blinked off. He’d missed it. Oh, well. He shoved open the bar door and let Candace precede him outside. The night air, cooler than the inside of the bar, hit his cheek.

  He was about to place the device back in his pocket but a short vibration alerted him to a voicemail. He stopped at the curb. Candace’s voice lolled on, not penetrating his thoughts. A little ball of dread unwound in his chest. Who the hell left voicemails anymore? Usually a text was enough. But if someone was in trouble . . .

  Dani.

  Fuck! Milo had mentioned that Dani had left the country. But she wouldn’t call him. No, it had to be a wrong number. She’d avoid him in almost every circumstance. He tightened his grip on the phone despite wanting to chuck it against the sidewalk. Candace lifted her fingers to signal one of the many passing cabs.

  Goddammit. He couldn’t ignore the message—for peace of mind, and to enjoy the sex that lay before him, he had to check it.

  “One sec, hon.”

  She made a face as he hit the Voicemail icon. He took a few paces back, entered his password, and turned his back to the scowling redhead.

  “Brock!” Dani’s voice burst against his eardrum, sending a shockwave to his core. Sharp pants followed the word. Was she running? He ran his hand through his hair. Though the possibility of the missed call being from Dani had crossed his mind, nothing could have prepared him for hearing her voice. Calling him.

  “Brock, I—I’m in trouble. I can’t say too much.” Her voice broke, and splashes sounded in the background. “Someone’s after me. I need—just call me, please. I know . . . I know you’re probably pissed at me. But I need you.” Pain tugged at her words, and if he didn’t know her so damn well, he’d think she’d just sucked back tears. Rage heated his blood. He needed to be there. To get to her before whoever was after her did.

  If she was still alive.

  “Don’t tell Serena.” Menace replaced the panic in her words and the line went dead.

  He curled his fist around the screen and let out a growl. “Motherfucking shit . . .”

  Candace stepped in front of him. “Cab’s waiting.” She cupped her hands around his fist and tugged. He didn’t budge, and the sultry glimmer in her eye vanished.

  He dropped his hand and her hold loosened. “Sorry. I just got some bad news. I need to go.”

  “Are you serious? You’re bailing?”

  He towed her by her elbow toward the cab. Was he really bailing on sex just because he’d received a frantic long-distance call from his ex? How pathetic was that?

  “I’m sorry.” He peeled out a fifty-dollar bill, placed it in her hand, and tucked her into the cab.

  “Wait.” She dug in her purse and slapped a card in his palm. “Call me if you come to your senses.” The cab rolled away and he turned to pace in the shadows. All Brock wanted to do was kick his own ass. Not for ditching Candace but for once again putting his life on hold for Dani.

  He couldn’t fucking help it. He had some kind of compulsion—she called, and he came running. He found the number that had cockblocked him and hit redial. The line rang once, twice, three times . . . Christ. If he’d just canned Candace for nothing he’d—

  “Hello.” Dani’s raspy voice broke through his consciousness.

  “Yeah, it’s me. This better be good.” A sound crackled in the background and she inhaled. “What’s that? Where are you?”

  “Uh. Just a storm.” A beat passed. “I’m in Geneva.”

  He folded his arm under his elbow. That didn’t surprise him. After her kidnapping, he’d told her about his cousin who’d just moved to Geneva and she’d gushed about always wanting to travel there. Dani was the type to follow through with all her wants.

  Except when it came to him.

  “You’re breathing, I hear. Not being held captive, I assume. What’s the emergency?” If his voice was a little terse, too bad. He’d put his life on the line to rescue her from Milo’s dad just three months ago. Although he hadn’t expected that to mend all the broken pieces between them, it had to stand for something. Especially since she’d been glued to his side for the first two days after she was safe. Then her shield of armor went up again, blocking him out. A day later they’d had a blowout fight about all their past shit and went right back to not talking. Dani had a lot of great qualities. An ability to forgive wasn’t one of them.

  A long, exhausted sigh met his ears. “’Course you’d bring that up. Yes, physically I’m fine. But a couple hours ago, two men were in my apartment. I climbed out my third-story window and into one of the neighbor’s units, cut the building’s electricity, stabbed a man in the leg, then beat him in the head with a frying pan.” Her voice trembled on the last part. “Then I shot a man and here I am. So yeah, I guess by your standards, I’m perfectly fine.”

  Brock fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked his SUV. He couldn’t get that involved again, but he also couldn’t not help. What the hell he was supposed to do from halfway across the world was beyond him, though. He opened the door, dropped into the driver’s seat, and turned over the ignition. He’d had only two drinks over the last three hours, and even if he’d been drunk as a skunk, this conversation would have sobered him right up.

  He stretched his fingers around the steering wheel and measured his words. “Dani, are you all right?” He kept his voice even, controlled. Something about her always softened him. Trying to stay mad at Dani was like trying to squeeze water from a rock. Was he bitter? Yes. Hurt? Hell yeah. Angry? No.

  A memory of the day he’d met her, sixteen years ago, floated into his mind, and a smile tugged at his mouth. He’d come out of a CD store to find her cutting the lock on his bike. He’d been sixteen at the time and she’d been twelve. Even though he’d caught her red-handed, her defiant blue eyes had dared him to do something about it. He’d promised her ten bucks if she’d let him walk her home. At the time, she’d been far too young to spark any interest in him other than for her well-being, and it was at that moment that he’d nominated himself as her protector of sorts.

  “Mmm.” The sound came out strained, as if she were holding back a wave of emotion.

  “Take some deep breaths for me.” Silence stretched almost as long as the distance that separated them. He knew her well enough to know that if she could have sent a laser beam through the receiver and blasted his head off, she would have. But a second later, three inhales and exhales followed.

  “Better?”

  “Yes.”

  “When did all this happen? What time is it there?”

  “It’s almost six in the morning. I heard them come into my apartment just after three.”

  “What have you been doing this whole time?”

  “Driving.” Fatigue laced her voice and worry tugged at his heart. She was exhausted, being hunted, and too afraid to stop. “I just pulled into a hotel parking lot. I figure they need to get their wounds taken care of before they look for me again.” She chuckled, but the sound pitched.

  He buckled his seatbelt and pulled away from the curb. “I want to know more about what got you into this, but for now, you need to get somewhere safe. Remember my cousin Leland?”

  “Yeah, I thought of him. I don’t want to risk staying with anyone, though. It would be too dangerous.”

  He rubbed his thumb under the edge of the seatbelt at his chest. She was right. And the last thing he wanted to do was endanger his family. But there wasn’t anything else he could do from California to keep her safe. He’d ca
ll Leland in the morning anyway. Maybe he had a connection.

  “It’s fine. I’ll rest my eyes until checkout and then find somewhere else to go.”

  “You should come home.”

  She scoffed. “That’s the last place I want to be. Once I finish this job, I’ll go somewhere else. All I have to do is deliver the device. After I get ahold of my contact.”

  “Sounds too simple.” Of course she was working a job. He should have known that’s why she’d left the country. Milo had given him some bullshit line about Dani wanting an adventure. But Dani found trouble easier than a new shoe found dog shit. “Look, do me a favor. Trash your phone and get an encrypted—”

  “Got one. I’ll get rid of this one when we hang up.”

  “Text me the number and where you’re staying.”

  “Okay.” She clipped the word out, alerting him that she was ready to disconnect. The great chasm between them ripped at his heart. He ached to touch her, to ease her dismay. He swiped his thumb over the smooth cracks of the leather steering wheel. He couldn’t let her go.

  “Bye.”

  “Wait . . .” The sound of the dead line echoed in his ear. A beat later a text vibrated his hand. He didn’t need to look at it to know it was Dani’s info. He tossed his phone onto the seat next to him. There would be no point sleeping when he got home. He had work to do.

  * * *

  Dani ran through the shadows. Rocks and twigs sliced her bare feet and branches whipped her face. Her breath came out in hoarse gasps. Her toe caught the lip of a tree root and a scream piped through her lips as she went down.

  They’re going to kill me.

  Her eyes snapped open and she jerked into a sitting position. Just a dream. The bedsheets clung to her sweaty skin. She tore them off, swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and pressed her hand to the base of her throat.

  The hotel’s walls spun in a kaleidoscope of technicolor wallpaper. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Too jumpy, and too little sleep. Nightmares had ripped her from slumber several times throughout the early morning. The sun streamed through the curtains she hadn’t closed tight enough. Was it the same day? Every inch of her body ached as if she’d been thrown on the wash cycle in a machine. Doubt flickered through her. Had she really climbed out a window? Shot a man? Called Brock? God, that was the worst one.