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.