Last Chance To Run

by Dianna Love

  Zane set his phone on vibrate, shoved his Sig into a holster that clipped inside the waistband of his jeans, and fit it against his hip. He threw a poncho on and shoved his hands into a pair of leather work gloves.

  Now would be a good time to have the thermal imaging system he’d used in his fighter plane. Even a small night vision monocular would be a great substitute, but he didn’t have that either. The binoculars would work, but would be in the way if he had to climb. He’d do without.

  He was just thankful he’d had Ben’s tracking device.

  Lightning ripped across the black skies and rain continued in a steady downpour. He reached in the back seat for the roll of anchor rope and wound about fifty feet into a loop, hanging the pile over his shoulder.

  Using the tight beam of his LED flashlight, he jogged down the track, then flipped the beam off as he neared the sport utility.

  On close inspection, the Land Rover was branded with a gold triangle logo identical to the one from the airport. He picked his way around the tall metal structure, stumbling through a minefield of piled buckets, weeds, and scattered boards. Rain drummed against every hard object in its way, camouflaging any unintentional noise.

  Most tall warehouses had a ladder for accessing the roof, but as he rounded the last side, checking out the building, this one proved him wrong.

  He felt his way around toward the front.

  When his hand plowed through a web of thick vines and caught on a metal rung, he expelled a sigh of relief. Vines wrapped the ladder and covered the wall as high as he could reach. With no idea if the metal was rusted to pieces or still strong, he tentatively placed his weight on each step. Once he stood on the roof, shafts of light shone upward through small holes in the ceiling.

  The only illuminated room was near the front quarter of the structure.

  Lightning flashed and exposed gaping holes in the roof where water funneled into the building.

  He switched on his small flashlight to hunt the center beam at the pitch of the roof rather than risk crashing through a weak area. Once there, he navigated to the light source.

  He knelt down and crawled close enough to peer into a bright opening.

  One of the largest men Zane had ever seen sat reclined in a chair with his tree-trunk legs propped on a crate. His meaty fingers tapped a rhythm to hard rock music vibrating out of a boom box. What had Trish said? Angel’s attacker could be a professional wrestler.

  If Angel was here, Zane would have to get her without tangling with this brute, or he’d be forced to use his weapon. He had to squint into the opening and move around without stopping the roof leak while he searched the room’s layout.

  There were two doorways in the small room. One exited the building and the other accessed another room. Zane shined his light over the roof to what should be the next room. Water streamed into the pitch-black hole through two ragged openings in the tin.

  He crawled to the edge of a hole as wide as his overstuffed chair. He couldn’t see a thing inside until lightning fingered across the sky, turning the dark night to daylight for several seconds.

  During the momentary brilliance, a dash of yellow brightened one corner.

  He’d found Angel.

  Chapter 46

  CK’s phone vibrated against his hip. He turned down the music, but still had to click up the receiver volume to hear over the downpour pounding the metal roof.

  “Speak.”

  “This is Joe. The plane just landed. I’ll let you know when I have ML and we’re on the way. Shouldn’t be more than thirty minutes.”

  “I’ll be here.” CK thumbed the phone off and cranked up the music.

  His leggy captive should be primed for Mason after today. Mason wanted her pliable. Last time he’d seen her, she was close to being putty. Wouldn’t take much more to have her begging.

  Chapter 47

  Angel shivered hard. She tucked herself into a tighter ball on the damp floor. Rain clattered down on the building. The racket echoed through the room, sounding as though a thousand nails showered against the metallic surface. Something furry bumped her hand.

  She went from exhausted to terrified in less than three seconds. A rat? She wobbled to her feet, ready to flee if the animal jumped on her.

  Lightning exploded outside, sending a flash of light charging through the wide hole in the ceiling.

  A figure appeared in the center of the room. Was the giant sneaking up on her? Mason would be next.

  She couldn’t take any more. Fear snapped her control.

  Angel ran in the direction of the door, praying he’d left it unlocked when he came into the room. Halfway across the room, she was snatched off of her feet.

  “Noo...” died in her throat when a hand clamped over her mouth. Strain and fear had taken a toll. She made one puny attempt to struggle against the rock hard body and knew she couldn’t defeat his strength.

  She crumbled emotionally. Tears gushed down the sides of her face. Her knees gave way.

  Before she could fall to the ground, the hand covering her mouth slid away and two strong arms wrapped around her chest to support her. She heard, “Shhh. It’s me, Zane.”

  That was the last straw. Her mind had snapped if she actually thought Zane would materialize out of thin air.

  Unable to stop, she cried in broken sobs smothered by the deafening rain. She felt herself shifted around until she cried against a broad chest. Long fingers on one hand supported her around the waist as another began stroking up and down her back.

  Her phantom kissed her forehead and whispered next to her ear. “Shhh, baby, it’s okay. I’m going to get you out of here.”

  Zane was so very warm, even if he were a hallucination. She wanted to climb inside his heat. A shudder racked her body and he tucked her closer.

  “Honey, don’t cry. I swear I’ll get you out of here.”

  A hand cupped her chin, lifting it. Warm lips she recognized kissed her gently. He was no hallucination.

  Nothing had ever felt as real as Zane.

  Finally, she quieted and ran a hand over Zane’s face. “It is you,” she said, her voice full of awe.

  “Are you hurt, honey?”

  The concern in his voice soothed her.

  “I’m okay n-now that you’re here.” She remembered the giant nearby and whispered, “We have to get out. How’d you get in here?”

  His hot breath flowed over her ear when he spoke. “We’re going out through the roof. You ready?”

  The roof?

  If he said so, she would do it. She nodded then realized he couldn’t see her and said, “I’m ready.”

  Zane’s arms fell away. Her body mourned the loss. He whispered, “I’m pulling a poncho over your head. Don’t panic.” When he had the poncho on her, he took her hand and led her to the wall with the windows.

  “Do you know how to climb a rope and walk your feet up the wall?” he asked quietly.

  She’d done that plenty of times in her training classes. “Yes.”

  “You go first, I’ll be right behind you. When you get on the roof, don’t move until I’m up there.”

  “Okay,” she whispered and grabbed the rope to start up. At the sharp pain in her side, she sucked in air and hesitated.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Angel gritted her teeth. She could do this. Adrenaline kicked in. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

  Hand over hand, her moves painfully slow, she made it to the roof while rain pelted her face. She struggled over the edge until she was on her hands and knees, waiting.

  Zane popped up right behind her.

  Water ran over the top of her shoeless foot from the flood rushing across the corrugated roof. He handed her the flashlight then pulled the rope up in loops and slung it over his shoulder. With his hands on her shoulders, he bent down close to her ear.

  “Hold my belt and walk in my tracks as close as you can.” Before letting go he brushed her lips with his. “Hang in there just a little longer a
nd we’ll be out of here.”

  Reaching zombie state, she nodded, but he must have caught her movement. He gave her a little squeeze then hooked her hand through his belt and took the flashlight. She slipped twice on the slick metal as they scooted across the roof and down the ladder.

  ~*~

  Zane could feel Angel’s fear and heard her soft whimper more than once, enough to know she was in pain, but they couldn’t stop yet. He towed her through the thick weeds. When he neared the entrance to the building, headlights from the alley shot crossways in front of them. He hauled her up between him and the building.

  That way he could see who arrived without being spotted.

  Another sport utility swung around the first one to park.

  The driver stepped from the vehicle and raced around to open the passenger door. When a statuesque blond male stepped out of the new vehicle, Angel stiffened against Zane. Was that the bastard who’d hurt her?

  Zane spoke very low. “Do you know him?”

  She hesitated then nodded under his chin.

  The two men moved out of view then a door banged shut.

  “Let’s go.” Zane dragged her quickly through the thicket. At the Land Rover, he made her squat down next to one of the vehicles, telling her not to move. With a knife from his boot, he slashed the tires, moved to the second vehicle and did the same, then shoved the knife back in place and grabbed her hand, taking off again.

  They rushed along the tracks in a jog, slower than they’d go if she weren’t minus one shoe. Zane needed two or three more minutes to get Angel to the truck. They’d made it a third of the way there when shouts erupted behind them.

  High-powered searchlights beamed frantically, scouring the ground outside the building.

  Zane jerked Angel to a stop. “Take the flashlight and keep it pointed the way we were running. Go to where the tracks meet the street. My truck is there. Stay out of sight when you get there. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “No. I – ”

  “Arguing will get us both killed. Do as I say,” Zane ordered, whipping out his weapon.

  A beam of light shined down the tracks, picking them up.

  “Now!” Zane shoved the light into her hands.

  She stumbled away.

  A zing sounded on the tracks just short of where he stood. He fired two shots, then sprinted down the tracks behind Angel and the bobbing flashlight.

  Shots rang out, landing all around him. He tripped once, caught his balance and fired back, this time lower.

  One high beam disappeared.

  At the truck, he threw the rope in the back. Angel dove in on the passenger side. He cranked the engine and spun the wheels over the loose, muddy ground, tearing onto the dark road with his headlights off. A shot pinged off the body of the truck. He shoved Angel’s head to her knees.

  “Stay down.” He wove through turns and side streets until he felt sure nobody could have followed on foot, then headed for the I-95 and turned north to Ft. Lauderdale.

  Then where? This group knew his apartment. They probably had his Titan under surveillance.

  While keeping his eyes on the road and rearview mirror, he removed his hand from Angel’s back then used his arm to lift her up to a sitting position.

  One look at Angel worried him.

  She hadn’t taken the poncho off and still shivered violently, even with the heater blowing. He reached over and ran the back of his hand across her cheek. She turned a deathly white face to him, her eyes glazed with shock.

  Zane had to find a secure location soon. No one appeared to be following them, but he couldn’t be sure. They might have planted a tracking unit on his truck at some point.

  He didn’t have the time it would take to go over the truck thoroughly to find it.

  Chapter 48

  Mason walked out of the warehouse as two more sport utilities rolled up. He stepped past the two incapacitated vehicles sporting flat tires.

  At the door to his ride, he stopped to give CK his parameters. “You have twelve hours to find her if you want your money.”

  Weapon still in hand, CK said, “I’ll find her. I always have a backup plan.”

  Mason did, too, and doubted CK would like his. But the bounty hunter had a reputation of never failing to produce. CK did not walk away from this much money. “I don’t care what it takes, just do it.”

  “Now you’re talking my language.” CK grinned.

  Chapter 49

  Traffic thinned along Sunrise Boulevard after ten at night. Zane crossed over the bridge and peeled off north on Bayview Drive to a small upscale community east of downtown Ft. Lauderdale. The rain had slacked to a drizzle. He zipped into an expansive parking lot for a high-rise apartment complex.

  “There’s a hotel a block from here. We’re going to check in for the night. I know you’re tired, honey, but we’re close,” Zane said.

  Angel nodded mutely, giving him reason to believe she’d hit her physical and emotional limit.

  His overnight bag was still in the truck, forgotten when he’d returned from Jacksonville. After tossing his cell phone into the bag, he left his weapon on his hip and pulled his shirttail loose to cover it.

  Zane circled the truck to Angel’s side and helped her down. Her icy hand barely clung to his as she shuffled along beside him.

  They stepped into the lobby of La Shasta, Ft. Lauderdale’s newest five-star hotel, and dripped puddles on the marble floor fit for a palace.

  As he approached the front desk, Zane kept his arm around Angel, who still wore the black poncho.

  An impeccably dressed middle-aged man, wearing a charcoal gray suit and crisp white linen shirt, stared at them in momentary shock. After a moment, he closed his severe mouth, affecting the perfect hotel manager demeanor.

  “Can I help you?” the manager asked with a hint of doubt in his voice.

  As the son of a powerful man who’d amassed a fortune in the oil business, Zane knew exactly how to handle this guy. He read “Robert Sommers” on the man’s name badge.

  “I certainly hope someone can, Robert,” Zane said, biting out each word in an annoyed tone. “First the damn flight lands three hours late, then they manage to lose our Louis Vuitton luggage. Next the rental car leaves us stranded two blocks away. So much for a vacation.”

  Robert’s face shifted into his concerned manager expression from Hospitality 101. “I’m so sorry, sir. What can I do for you?”

  “Just don’t tell me our reservation has been lost. If that happens, I’m calling my sister, so she can warn the world against this disaster zone. She writes a syndicated travel column and does an occasional stint for the Travel Channel.”

  That got Robert’s full attention.

  La Shasta hadn’t been open long. Zane recalled that a simple problem with a recent high-profile guest had been blown out of proportion in the local news. Everyone had talked about the embarrassing event for days.

  Robert punched up his computer screen. “Can I have your last name, sir?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Black.”

  At his words, Angel cocked her head towards him.

  He winked at her shocked expression. In addition to a wad of cash he kept on hand to pay for information, he’d been supplied a credit card under the name Zane Black. Even better was the Tallahassee, Florida payment address. Far from his true home in Ft. Lauderdale, which wouldn’t support Zane’s “vacation” story.

  The Tallahassee address was just another layer of protection Zane had wanted in place in case he ever had to use the card.

  Robert clicked keys furiously, frowned, squinted, clicked more keys, narrowed his eyes at the computer and glanced up. “Is that spelled B-l-a-c-k?”

  “Yes.”

  More clicking and deep sighs followed. Robert relented and offered a professional, but completely artificial, smile when he said, “I have your room, Mr. Black.”

  Several elderly couples strolled through the grand lobby, casting appalled looks toward the desk as Zane ha
nded over the card, instructing Robert that there had better not be a charge made until he determined the room and hotel were satisfactory.

  Robert paused at that, which was going to be a deal breaker for Zane. He didn’t want to risk any chance that someone chasing Angel might have a way to track his credit card before they left. But Mr. Helpful at the registration desk made quick work of processing the paperwork before handing over two room key cards.

  Zane took them and said, “Please call when the luggage arrives. In the meantime, we’ll need some toiletries. I have mine in a carry on, but my wife’s things were in the other suitcases.”

  Stepping into an office behind the desk, Robert returned with a bag full of items. “Please take these, compliments of La Shasta. We’d like to do whatever we can to make this a pleasurable stay for you.”

  Zane nodded his appreciation, thanked him, then guided Angel to the elevator. If Robert had any concerns about her single bare foot, he didn’t voice them.

  She continued to tremble while they rode silently on the elevator, her shivers worrying Zane as much as her near-catatonic state. He had an endless list of questions, but those could wait until she’d gotten a hot shower, food, and he’d assessed her injuries. Plus she could probably use some sleep.

  He opened the door to a luxurious room with a single king-size bed. The dainty sofa in the corner didn’t appear to hold a foldout or be long enough for his frame. Returning to the lobby to request a room change was out of the question. He’d sleep on the floor before he put Angel under any more strain. He had no idea what she’d endured, but her clothes had been ripped down the front, and she had bruises on the skin he could see.

  Someone was going to bleed, from multiple wounds, the next time they tried to hurt her.