Silence.
“Okay. I think we might be done here.” The lieutenant was staring at her, face closed like a fist. He blew out a breath. “Can you send me a copy of everything you’ve received over the past three days? No, make that a week.”
Nicole hid her wince. It was borderline unethical, her clients definitely would not want her to be sending out their documents. But this was the police, and they certainly wouldn’t be broadcasting them. “Yes, of course, though most are in foreign languages.”
The lieutenant looked pained. “Yeah, that will be part of the fun.” He stood. “I think we’ve done everything we can here. Jansen—” he indicated the young fingerprint tech, “will be taking your prints for comparison purposes. Will we find anyone else’s?”
Would he? Nicole thought about it. “I don’t know. I actually don’t think so. The last client in here was Maxwell Rubens, the software guy, to discuss an ongoing contract for translations of his programs into Chinese. But he was here ten days ago, and the cleaning service has been in here at least three times since then. So if you find prints that aren’t mine, they might be Mr. Rubens’s. And anyway, as Sam said, the intruder wore gloves.”
“We’ll check anyway.” The lieutenant gave her his card. “If you remember anything, anything at all, call me. Day or night.”
Nicole understood very well that she was getting special treatment because of Mike. No way would a botched burglary, where nothing was actually stolen, be getting all this attention. Not to mention a police lieutenant giving her his private cell phone number and authorization to call him day or night if she needed something.
She put the card in her purse and held out her hand. “I cannot begin to thank you enough, Lieutenant.”
His grasp was firm and dry. “No problem.” He nodded. “Sam, Harry. Mike, you’re with me.”
A source of energy left the room with him, the medic, the young tech guy, and Mike. Nicole felt suddenly drained, exhausted beyond measure. She swayed slightly, then felt Sam’s strong arms go around her. She leaned into him, into his strength, leaning her forehead against his chest for just a second, inhaling the scent that had been imprinted on the primitive part of her brain all last night.
Harry cleared his throat and she straightened, suddenly ashamed of her weakness, but Sam held her tightly before she could pull away.
He spoke over her head to Harry. “I’m taking her home. You look after things here.”
Harry nodded.
“And check our security cameras, I’ll bet you anything we caught him as he was running away.”
“Yeah. I’ll freeze a couple of frames and e-mail them to the SDPD. They’ve got facial recognition software, just like the FBI. If the guy’s in the system, we’ll get him. I’m on it.” Harry closed the door softly behind him. They were alone.
Sam tightened his embrace and bent down to her ear. “Let’s go home, honey.” His voice was so low, she felt the vibration in his chest more than heard the words. His breath washed over her ear and she broke out in goosebumps.
She pulled away and looked up at him. At that strong, unhandsome face. Of course she was going home with him. There was no question of that. He’d come for her in her hour of need, without hesitation. He’d saved her life. In some important, primordial way, a way that was blood and bone deep, she now belonged to him.
TEN
Escaping hadn’t been hard.For someone who’d graduated SERE with only a busted shoulder to show for it, getting out of the fancy building with the pretty, pretend security had been a cakewalk.
Up the fire escape, and up onto the roof. It was night and the satellites that passed weren’t equipped with infrared cameras. That was for war zones.
Outlaw was seriously annoyed at having his work interrupted, though. And by someone who knew what he was doing. Fuck, another few minutes and the lady would have talked. She’d been terrified. He could still feel the deep tremors running through her. He’d even been tempted for a second there. The bitch was a real looker and Outlaw liked his women just a little scared. Made them real accommodating.
But he knew better than to mix sex with the job. It was the kind of mistake that could have gotten him killed in the service and the kind of mistake that would cost him money in his new job. So sex while working was off the table, always.
The job wasn’t done. He’d just sat down to her computer when he’d heard the key in the lock and had barely made it to the door and turned out the lights before she walked in.
And a couple of minutes later, the big asshole from across the way picked the lock and came in and the whole mission had gone FUBAR in a second.
It was a very good thing that the guy cared about Nicole Pearce. Outlaw had seen it in an instant and realized that she was his get-out-of-jail-free card.
He’d tossed her at the window, knowing that if the guy didn’t catch her, she’d fall nine stories to her death and he’d never get the info. But he also knew the guy would rather catch her than him.
Up on the rooftop, Outlaw went to the southern edge of the building. Only two feet separated this wall from the next building. He tossed the trolley suitcase and his briefcase over onto the next roof and jumped.
This building had a service elevator from the roof to the garage, and a quarter of an hour later, Outlaw was dressed in his banker’s suit and driving away in his rental.
Next stop—Nicole Pearce’s house. She would either go home and he could get the job done there or if she didn’t, he’d grab the dad and force her hand.
Outlaw had never understood the hostage thing. There wasn’t anyone in the world he’d give something up for. You could blow up any head you wanted and he didn’t care. But for the rest of the world, it was a surefire winner. There were people who’d give up anything if you held a gun to a loved one’s head. Or knee or elbow, promising to shoot the hostage to death, piece by piece.
