a question,” Stanley snapped. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Oh God, he’d find Allen’s body and think she murdered him. Or worse, he’d see Marcus and then Marcus would go to jail. Stanley could place them both at the scene. Even if she wasn’t herself accused of the crime, she could be forced to testify against Marcus.
Something snapped inside her. Rage mounted and swirled like a tornado. She thrust her knee into his groin, balled her fist and swung as hard as she could just as he howled in pain and doubled over.
Her fist met his jaw and he went sprawling.
As he started to scramble up, she ran for the entrance, burst into the night and bolted toward the street. She saw an off-duty cab rounding the corner and she ran in front of it, her arm held up to stop him. The cab screeched to a halt a mere inch from her knee. The driver threw his fist out the window, and obscenities blistered the air.
Ignoring his outrage, Sarah yanked open the back door and crawled in, slamming the door behind her. “Drive!”
The cabbie gave her a disgruntled look in the rearview mirror, then accelerated sharply, muttering about crazy women as he swerved through traffic. “Lady, I was not in service.”
“I’ll make it worth your while. Just drive!”
He heaved an exasperated sigh. “Where to?”
She slammed her eyes shut for a moment as she sought to regain her bearings. Where could she go?
Think. God. What did one do in a situation like this?
She stared down at the purse slung over her neck. She had some cash, her passport, a credit card, her driver’s license. She couldn’t go back to her apartment, could she?
Stanley would have found his brother’s body by now. He’d probably already called the police.
Think, Sarah, think!
“Airport,” she managed to get out.
Her cell phone rang, startling her. She rummaged in her purse and turned it over to check the LCD. Marcus.
Tears burned her eyelids. Her brother. The one person in the world who loved her. He was all she had and now he’d killed for her.
She opened the phone and put it to her ear.
“Sarah,” Marcus barked before she could even get a greeting out.
“Marcus,” she croaked out in a cracked and scratchy voice.
“Sarah, honey, where are you?”
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t ... we can’t ... I have to stay away. I need to go away.”
She was babbling, but she didn’t care.
“Sarah, stop. Listen to me.”
“No.” She cut him off, her voice firmer now. “I have to go. Don’t you see? They’ll know. They’ll know I saw you. They have surveillance in that building. All they have to do is play the security tape back and they’ll know we were both there. You have to get out of here, Marcus. Go. I’m going too.”
“Sarah, goddamn it, listen to me!”
She closed the phone and turned it off so he couldn’t call back. She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
She had no idea where she was going or what she’d do when she got there, but she couldn’t stay here. She could never come back.
“I’m so sorry, Marcus. It should have been me who killed him,” she whispered.
GARRETT Kelly came awake with a start, his muscles tense, sweat beading his brow. His breaths came in rapid, harsh huffs. For a moment he lay there, his unfocused gaze sliding across the window to the darkness beyond.
Explosions echoed in his ears. The staccato of gunfire made him flinch, and the smell of blood and burning flesh assaulted his nostrils, making them flare as his breaths tore from his lungs.
God.
He shook his head and raised his hand to scrub the sleep from his eyes. His shoulder protested, and he snarled with impatience at the ache, which still nagged. He rolled and sat up in bed, planting his feet on the floor. He stayed there, head hanging toward his knees, sucking in air like some pantywaist in basic training about to puke his guts up after a twomile run.
It pissed him off when past memories ambushed him. He’d gone a long time without the images that interrupted his sleep. For some reason, after taking a bullet for his sister-in-law, he’d had a harder time sleeping. His consciousness seemed more vulnerable to things he’d shut out.
He cast a sideways glance at the clock. He wouldn’t be going back to sleep and everyone would be up in an hour anyway. Maybe a run would clear his head and get his