base of the stairs, she was able to think straight.
“Head west,” she said, recognizing her surroundings.
He didn’t fight her when she led the way toward the elevated station. Thankful they were the only ones on the platform, she dropped to a bench and let out a long, long breath.
This wasn’t what she’d envisioned when she’d gone looking for Sullivan in the Keys. Not running for her life in downtown Chicago, twice in two days.
Someone wanted them. Wanted them dead, from the looks of it. One attempt on her life she could chalk up to Sullivan’s shady career choice and a case of bad luck. After two, she was starting to think this was personal.
Common sense told her this was all about the Furies and Doug’s research. But she still couldn’t figure out why. Doug had been dead for fifteen years. If someone had wanted his notes, they’d waited a helluva long time to go looking for it.
Criminy. All that crap had been in her parents’ attic, not locked up like the U.S. Mint. One simple break-in and whoever wanted the damn boxes would have been set.
One simple break-in…
Her breath caught. Those boxes had been moved to her parents’ place only about two years ago. After Keira and Catrine had cleaned out their junk from her parents’ attic. Before that, they’d been stored in a back room of her father’s store. A place no one ever visited, let alone remembered was there. When the store had closed, her mother had moved all Lisa’s stuff back to the house.
And before that…how many times had her parents’ place been broken into over the years? Five, six times? Shane was always bugging them about the declining status of the neighborhood and the fact they needed to sell and relocate to sunny Florida in their golden years.
Her father had only shaken his head and scowled at each of Shane’s attempts. “Heat like that does things to people’s brains. Better to be here where it’s safe.”
Safe.
She’d never once considered the possibility that leaving her things—Doug’s things—with them would put them in jeopardy. The neighborhood was declining. Shane was right. Her father was just too bullheaded to listen.
Just as she’d always been too bullheaded to heed Shane’s warning that her little apartment in downtown San Francisco was a bad idea. She’d had break-ins there, too. And she’d always chalked them up to living in the big bad city. Now she couldn’t help wondering if it had been more. Maybe someone had been watching her a lot longer than she thought.
A chill spread down her spine, and she tugged the tux jacket around her shoulders. Paper crinkled in the inner pocket, distracting her from the dread settling in her stomach. Curious, she reached inside and grasped the slips—research Rafe must have pulled from Landau’s house. Something about it registered in her mind. Something she’d seen before.
Rafe passed in front of her, dragging her attention from what she was reading. He hadn’t stopped pacing back and forth like a caged animal since they’d climbed the platform stairs, and he didn’t show any signs of stopping. She couldn’t focus on the words in front of her.
“Give it a rest, Slick.”
When he didn’t seem to hear her, she folded the papers and replaced them in the breast pocket of his coat, sure they meant something, but lacking the energy to figure out just what that was at the moment. He’d obviously been spotted, which accounted for their quick flight from the party, but she still didn’t have a clue what had really happened and who, exactly, was after them.
And she was still a little staggered by what had gone down in that library. She’d watched—okay, heard—as Rafe had taken the other man out like he’d been trained in more than just the art of common thievery. Her sexy thief had been in stealth mode the moment that door had opened. Swift. Efficient. Dangerous. Her stomach clenched at the memory of how fast he’d disarmed and immobilized the other man, and she realized there were layers to Rafe Sullivan she’d had no clue existed.
Now that layered man was pacing by her again, making her stomach tighten with concern. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his forearms. The bow tie stuck out of the pocket of his slacks, and his hair was disheveled from wind and his fingers. He didn’t seem to notice the cold and didn’t look her way, even when she spoke. Only rubbed a hand over his mouth and continued