in glee when the unit opened like a door hinging back.
She crawled through the space, dropped into the driver’s seat and eyed the ignition. No keys.
Dammit. Well what did she expect? An engraved invitation to motor her way to freedom à la Greg Biffle?
She chewed on her lip. She needed to get to the authorities and get word to Pete about Minyawi. She could get out and run, or…she could hotwire the thing like Rafe had taught her to do when they’d been dating. Crap, she wasn’t sure she remembered which wire went where.
Indecision brewing, she glanced up. Then realized in a flash where she was.
No goddamn way.
Forget NASCAR. She had a faster idea.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Pete was warm all over. Even his toes were toasty.
He smiled as he lay on his side watching Kat sleep, curled up facing him on the mattress in Maria’s guest room. He’d turned the light off earlier, and now only the glow rising from the city outside the huge windows highlighted the angles and curves of her face, the soft skin of her shoulder, the way her hands were tucked in close to her body.
Man, he could just lay here for hours, staring at her.
The rain had turned to a light patter against the windows. The night sounds of the city were drowned out by her rhythmic breathing.
He couldn’t bring himself to wake her, even though he desperately wanted to make love to her one more time before dawn. So he contented himself with lying next to her, watching her sleep. He stroked her arm, marveled at the way her lashes fanned against her cheeks, how her lips parted as she breathed and that little mole near her mouth beckoned him to kiss her. He traced the line of her shoulder, drew his finger across her collar bone, followed the chain around her neck to the medal that fell between her breasts.
St. Jude. Patron saint of lost causes. She’d told him once she wore it because she was the biggest lost cause of all. But she was wrong. She was so much more than she realized.
A muffled thump cut through the night silence, and Pete’s finger halted on Kat’s medallion. He lifted his head and listened, only to have a second thump meet his ears.
Rolling to his back, he looked toward the tangle of clothing on the floor. He seriously didn’t want to get out of bed, but some strange instinct was telling him to get up and check on that noise.
Maria slept like the dead and didn’t get up for anything. And no matter how he tried, he couldn’t come up with a logical reason for her housekeeper to be up and moving this early.
He hesitated until he heard it a third time, then rolled out of bed as quietly as he could so as not to wake Kat and pulled on his slacks. Most likely it was something simple like the wind lifting loose material on the roof of the building, but considering the situation, he didn’t think it wise to ignore it.
He closed the door quietly at his back and moved barefoot through the upstairs. Every room he checked was empty. Nothing moving. Nothing out of the ordinary. He tiptoed down the stairs and hesitated when he reached the entryway.
The heating system hummed. Outside, wind howled, and rain pattered against the panes of glass in the living room. He was just about to turn around and go upstairs when he heard it again.
A thump. Like something heavy being moved. Coming from Maria’s room.
He eased down the hallway, staying in the shadows. Then wished like hell he’d grabbed his gun from upstairs. Glancing around the darkened passage, he spotted a tall, chunky candlestick on a side table.
Not a bat. But the best he could come up with. He grabbed it with a frown and turned it upside down to use like a weapon. Then he wrapped his hand around Maria’s doorknob.
The room was dark, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust, but he didn’t miss the muffled gasp.
Maria was on the floor between the bed and the window, hands and feet cinched tight, gag stuffed in her mouth and tied behind her head. Her flailing was the noise he’d heard from upstairs.
Oh, shit.
His blood ran cold, and he turned to race back upstairs. Maria’s muffled scream echoed at his back.
He made it as far as the base of the stairs before he was coldcocked from behind and went sprawling to the hardwood