Silas
The woman’s knees buckle, and her body goes limp as I scramble to catch her, tightening my grip on around her waist before she crumples to the elevator floor. As I shift the brunette in my arms, a whiff of her sweet, floral-scented perfume curls up into my nose. I clutch her to my chest. She’s out cold. My muscles bunch, but it’s not from her waifish weight. My gut instincts rise to the surface just beneath my skin. It’s well-honed from doing club business over the years, where ‘kill or be killed’ is like second nature. Every second of the short elevator ride feels more. My eyes trail up to the cameras mounted on a corner of the elevator’s ceiling. When I glance down, my fingers are tightly molded around her waist, knuckles white.
I need to calm down and get a grip.
She barely said a word to me, I have no reason to help her. But I pluck the dart from her upper thigh. A quick examination gives me nothing concrete to go off of. It’s a typical tranquilizer dart. Pocketing it, I realize that whoever did that to her is now coming for me too.
The elevator car groans to a stop as I weigh my options. The first stop is on the fourth floor parking level where my bike is parked, but I need to find this woman some help from the front desk clerk, who’s practically my best bud now. I press the main floor button and wait.
Hopefully, the damn doorman is still on his shift, because things are about to get ugly. If he’s around, I plan to make him earn his keep by hiding the pretty, unconscious lady somewhere until the cops and ambulance show up. My fingers instinctively do a quick check of my handgun tucked into the back of my jeans under my cut.
A simple in and out meeting to firm up a deal.
Yeah right.
I brush back a lock of hair covering her face, and gently prop her up against the back wall of the elevator car. No one’s around to watch my six, but if I stay in this confined area, I can keep her safe.
Fuck, I need to keep her safe.
Why? I have no fucking idea.
My vision tunnels as the elevator doors peel back. My vision tunnels, the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and my heart is pounding hard with the single goal to stay alive.
The four men I’ve never seen before are standing in the middle of the lobby. They see the elevator doors start to open and head toward us. The fucking bellhop is probably hiding in the back room. No one’s at the reception desk.
“Stop right there, Mr. Corrigan,” he shouts from a distance.
How the fuck does he know my name? It doesn’t matter. I’m not up for sticking around to find out. Four to one isn’t bad odds, but with a passed out woman behind me, I can’t control it all. It’s time to swallow my pride and bug out fast. My finger punches the ‘close door’ button, and the lead guy breaks into a run to catch the door while it’s still open. The three guys behind him all reach into their jacket but they’re all too far away. The doors finally jolt close and once it take off, I hit every button above the fourth floor before the high-class elevator stops.
That should keep them guessing where we got off.
Carrying the woman, I hurry across the walkway connecting the fancy condo to the parking garage next door. While those goons are climbing the stairs and stopping at every floor trying to figure out where we are, I’m already back on my bike with this stunningly sexy, passed-out stranger in my arms.
That’s one way to spend an evening.
