Not to mention the fact that she had to get out before Gabriel got back. The man seemed to know the workings of her mind altogether too well. With him around, there would be no escape.
She had, at best, a couple of hours. And once she was free, Suzy Kazdan was the first port of call. And that lying bitch would tell her exactly what was going on.
Or there'd be hell to pay.
Chapter Six
Gabriel glanced at his watch as he ran across Rathdown Street. Ten twenty. He was cutting it close. Whoever was waiting for the two men would probably be there by now.
But there had been nowhere else to shift shape except the park. Any closer and he could have run the risk of being sensed by those waiting inside the warehouse. He bent his arm back and forth, trying to ease the slight ache. It had been a long time since he'd flown so hard, so fast. He was out of shape — something Stephan had warned might happen.
Still, given his work, and SIU's policy of not flaunting your abilities in public, he'd had little chance of late to get in some flight time. And by the look of things, it was a situation not likely to change in any great hurry.
He dodged a car trying to do an illegal right-hand turn, and headed toward the warehouse. In reality, it was an old red brick factory that somewhere along the line had been converted into apartments. Now though, it was abandoned and waiting for a new owner to refurbish it. Given the scarcity of housing this close to the city, it was surprising that hadn't happened already.
The light breeze whistled through the smashed windows on the upper floors and rattled the loose roofing atop the front veranda. It was a forlorn sound that jarred uneasily against the noise and rush of the morning traffic.
He took the front steps two at a time and stopped when he reached a wrought iron gate. Beyond it, there was a long tunnel that opened out into an expanse of sunshine and grass. From where he stood, the courtyard seemed — and felt — empty. He twisted the handle and pushed the gate open. Then he studied the red brick walls on either side of the tunnel, making sure there were no alcoves or doors. There weren't, so he moved down cautiously.
No one waited in the courtyard. The sun shone on the pond that dominated the center, making the water sparkle like diamonds. In the surrounding patch of lawn, weeds had overtaken the grass. Surprisingly, there was very little litter, just the occasional glitter of glass shards.
He lifted his gaze, studying what remained of the windows that looked out onto the courtyard. The place looked, and felt, uninhabited. But if he went out into that sunshine, he'd be a sitting duck for anyone who might be hiding within the buildings. And unless he did, he'd never know if there was anyone up there to worry about.
He swept his gaze across the silent apartments, and then sprinted across to the nearest set of stairs. Silence greeted him. If anyone was here, they obviously didn't care about, or hadn't yet noticed, his presence.
He searched the entire first floor and found nothing but debris and dust. Stopping near the stairs, he stared down at the pond and wondered if he'd been taken for a ride. It wouldn't be the first time a suspect had lied so convincingly he'd believed him. And it was ten forty-five. Whoever the two men had intended to meet should have been here by now.
Unless, of course, they were stuck in traffic.
He pushed away from the railing. There were only a half dozen apartments on the second floor, so he might as well take a look. He headed up the stairs to the next floor. In the third apartment, he found a body.
After checking the remainder of the apartment to ensure no one else was around, he squatted beside the remains and felt for a pulse. Nothing. Not that he'd expected one. The smell of death, of ripe and rotting flesh, was beginning to permeate the still apartment air.
He rolled the corpse over. It was male, probably in his mid-fifties, and his bloated face was somewhat familiar, though where he'd seen him he couldn't remember offhand. Frowning slightly, he patted down the man's body. No identification card, no wallet, nothing that might even hint at who he was. So why had this body been dumped here? It wasn't exactly the best of hiding spaces, especially when the gates were unlocked and these apartments were so accessible. Maybe —
His thoughts came to an abrupt halt as the stale air found life. He dropped and swung around. Two men approached, one carrying a large club that already arced towards his head. He raised his arm and blocked the blow, but the force of the impact sent a shudder through the rest of his body. Ignoring the resulting pain, he surged upwards and struck out with a clenched fist. The blow smashed into the stranger's face, and bone and cartilage gave way. No vampire then, he thought, as the man staggered back, blood pouring from his shattered nose. A vampire would have been fast enough to avoid such damage.
The second man moved in, fists swinging. Gabriel ducked several blows, and then he threw one of his own. The man went down like a ton of bricks. He frowned. He was fast, and he definitely had more speed and strength than mere humans, but this was almost too easy...
The stale air stirred again, warning him of another approach. He spun, catching a brief glimpse of two men before something smashed into his head and the lights went out.
* * * *
Sam sat on the toilet seat and stared up at the ceiling. Time was growing short, and her hopes of escape even shorter. Finley was watching her closer than a shark did a potential meal, and he had two gorillas as assistants. Hell, they'd even come into the restroom with her, just to check that there were no vents or other likely escape routes present. They were back outside now, but if she sat here much longer, they'd been back in, wondering what was going on.She bit her lip, her gaze sweeping the entire roof for what seemed like the hundredth time. Lots of ceiling tiles, and not one vent. Who could believe that? Christ, people were always escaping via the air ducts in movies. Just this once, couldn't fact have followed the lead of fiction?
Sighing, she rose and turned around. But just as she was about to push the button, she noticed one of the ceiling tiles above her head, near the wall, had a broken edge. They were fibro — or whatever fire retardant material it was they were using these days — not proper tiles. And beyond the broken edge, metal gleamed.
Her heart began to race. She didn't know much about buildings, and she'd never even thought about the fact that the building probably had a suspended ceiling to allow for all the cabling and ducts. But if the electrician and air-con guys could move around in the void between the suspended ceiling and the actual one, she certainly could.
First though, she had to try to get up there. She flipped down the toilet seat cover, climbed from there onto the paper dispenser. Then, with one hand pressed against the wall for support and hoping like hell the dispenser would hold her weight long enough, she rose onto her tiptoes and tried to flip the tile back. But she was several inches too short.
She swore softly. After taking a deep breath to calm the anxiety clutching her stomach, she eased off a shoe and tried to move the tile that way. Her second attempt was successful, and the tile plopped to one side. The void beyond was dark, but it certainly looked like there was at least crawling space.
If she could get up there.
If she could get over her fear of enclosed spaces.
If she could achieve both of those things, all she'd have to worry about was not putting a foot — or more — through a tile and letting everyone know what she was up to.