Someone or something was tapping on the bathroom window. Ava bit back a shriek. She was blocked in. She’d heard what sounded like a gunshot in the parking lot and she’d kept low after that, afraid to look out or to somehow draw attention to herself. Now there was someone at the back—her only escape hatch. Her tiny sanctuary had just become her trap. Her heart pounded and she was glad she hadn’t had a chance to eat much or she was sure fear would have her heaving it all. She was poised in the doorway of the bathroom to run and there was nowhere to run to.
She couldn’t breathe and her heart was racing.
That familiar tap again. The tap that had meant so many other things so long ago. Was it her imagination? Wishful thinking? Or divine providence? It didn’t matter if it was none or any of them. She had no choice. She had to take the chance. It could be anyone or it could be him.
She didn’t need any other motivation. She didn’t care who was in the alley. Fear skated over everything her rational mind told her, and she knew that she had to get out.
Her hands shook as she balanced on the tub. She pushed but the window seemed stuck. She pushed again. Her nail ripped. She didn’t stop. Finally, the window opened a crack and with a heave she pushed it all the way up. The faded, blue-checked curtain fell across her face and she pushed it aside as she boosted herself up. Fortunately, the window was big enough that she was easily able to slip out of it without bodily contortions. She dropped to the ground just as she heard the crack of wood splitting and knew that the door to her room had just burst open.
She landed hard and stumbled. She reached out as if intuitively she’d known all along that someone friendly was here, someone who would stop her from stumbling or face planting. That was only wishful thinking. She had to get out of here if she wanted to live.
“It’s me.”
A man. Her heart was pounding so hard that she thought her chest would burst.
She bit back a scream, backed up and turned to run. She’d give it her best. She wouldn’t die from lack of trying. Instead she ran straight into the solid wall of a chest and strong arms that held her tight. There was no escape. She was doomed and if it weren’t for the arms holding her, she was sure she might have expired from fright.
She tried to twist away and at the same time she tried to make herself smaller, to slip out of the iron grip that held her. Her heart was beating so fast and so loud that she thought she might die just from that alone. Fear raced through her and at the same time anger was building. The adrenaline rush was more from anger than fear now. She’d live through this or die trying. She raised her foot to bring it down on the beige canvas high-top sneaker. Not an ordinary shoe. Designer. The words ran through her mind but didn’t connect with what that meant.
“Ava.”
She twisted and managed to sink her teeth into his hand. A curse and then she was turned roughly around to face him.
“Damn it.”
The grip loosened and she was free. But the freedom only lasted a few seconds before he had her again. This time by her waist, her feet off the ground, she was held tight against him.
She kicked backward and clipped his shin.
“Ava, it’s me... Faisal.”
She hadn’t heard right and yet she had. The voice, the words, even the shoes. It all came together. All of it was familiar. The fear fell away. She relaxed in his arms, her heart pounding a zillion miles an hour. The danger she had anticipated replaced by a danger that had a different meaning, different depth.
“Fai?” she said, even though the familiarity of the voice validated the truth.
“If I let you go, promise me you won’t run,” he said.
“I wouldn’t—”
“I’d catch you anyway,” he cut her off darkly.
“Let me go,” she said. “I won’t run.” That part was true, for she had no vehicle and no place to run to. “But it’s a mistake to be here with me.”
His arm eased and she slid down his hard length, landing on her feet, as she turned to face him.
The look he gave her was both intimidating and full of concern. “You could have died, running the way you did.”
“But I didn’t,” she said obstinately, as if her earlier fears had been based on nothing but her imagination. “It was a mistake to follow me,” she repeated, for he hadn’t responded the first time she’d said it. “Fai,” she whispered. “You need to get out of here. Trust me.”
“We’ll get out of here together. This is what I do—protect.”
“I know,” she whispered but she really wasn’t quite sure she did. She knew about his company, even knew about his position but she’d never imagined any of this. She wasn’t sure any layperson actually could.
“It’s dangerous,” she said as if he’d said nothing at all. “Being with me.”
“I can take care of myself, Ava, and you. You need me. Maybe more than you realize.”
Something deep inside told her that he was right. That it had been a mistake to come here alone. “There’s someone after me. He’ll kill—”
“Let’s get you out of here. This place has been compromised.”
A gunshot seared the night and overrode the other sounds. She bit back a scream.
“Damn it.”
He grabbed her hand without another word. They were running down the narrow overgrown alley, where trees grew wild and uncontrolled by a gardener’s clippers. Their branches reaching beyond the confines of the yards they grew in, crowding the alley. He boosted her over a fence, through a yard cluttered with aged vehicles. A dog barked. The sound muffled and slightly ominous as if there was something the dog could see and they couldn’t.
She ran as if he were her only salvation. And she supposed it was true. She’d be dead if Faisal hadn’t been here. Her father had died and she knew that she was next on the list. She clung tighter to his hand and wished she could go back to a place in time when she’d never run from him in the first place. She couldn’t protect him. It had been foolish of her to try.
* * *
BEN COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. Darrell Chan had tried to take him out.
Despite the advice he’d given Chan, despite how convincing he’d believed he’d been, Chan hadn’t listened. He’d told Chan that purchasing land in this area would be slow going. Tristan wasn’t a big place and the land-registry process moved like everything else—slowly. He’d told Chan that it was best not to delay paying the purchase price since that would grease the system’s wheels and get everything moving faster. Apparently, Chan hadn’t believed him, about anything. The deal had fallen through.
He ducked behind a car and could see the man Chan had sent after him was still moving. He’d thought he’d gotten him minutes ago and had gone for the little witch in the interim. That had been a mistake. He rubbed his shoulder. He’d almost got it then.
He narrowed his eyes, watching. He knew who he was up against. He’d done his research. The loser was a hired killer. Chan had used him before; he was good. But he wasn’t that good.
Ben moved diagonally. He was in the open but he was low and it was dark. A shot hit close enough to kick up dirt and make a pebble clip his wrist. He bit back a curse and put his mouth on the wound.
Damn it, he thought with a snarl. He flattened himself to the ground by the back tire of a van and watched, waiting. The loser had taken his last shot. He’d picked the wrong man to try to take out. He hadn’t spent hours at the range for nothing. This guy was done.
He dropped to his chest as he had a brief visual and then nothing. He inched forward, both hands on his gun, his eyes combing the half-empty lot, searching for him. The one who saw the other first was the one who would come out of here alive.
There’d be one more shot.
It would be his.
Movement.
Running. The slap of sneakers on pavement. A shadow of a man.
He took aim and fired. Once, twice.
Someone would hear him.
Damn it. He didn’t care. He shot again.
His target fell.
It was time to get the hell out of here.