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They sprinted, arms and legs pumping, straight for the metal door. He yanked it open, and they raced into the stairwell. Before the door swung all the way closed, he spotted four men in dark suits crashing through the shrubbery.
“They’re right behind us.”
“What floor?”
His brain blanked.Think.
She stared at him, waiting.
He blinked.
“Ryan, what floor did you park on?” Her voice was calm, but he saw the fear in her eyes.
The floor number flashed in his mind.
“Fourth. It’s the fourth floor.”
They pounded up the metal stairs, their shoes clattering against the steps. The landings flew by.Two. Three.
The door from the street opened. Heavy footsteps sounded below.
Four.
He wrested the door open, and they ran out onto the parking deck.
“By the pillar.” He pointed at Chelsea’s crossover vehicle.
“Keys,” Leilah panted stretching out her palm.
He dropped the keys into her hand. As he did, he spotted a heavy earthen container near the elevator.
“Go start the car.”
She took off, and he dragged the Savoir Faire’s answer to the ugly metal trashcan from the elevator area to the stairwell door. He pushed it into place against the door. It wouldn’t stop anyone who was sufficiently motivated to come through the door, but it would slow them down.
The Subaru hurtled toward him and stopped. Leilah leaned over and pushed the passenger door open while he launched himself toward the seat. He pulled the door closed and scrabbled for the seatbelt.
“Where’s your parking ticket?” she asked, frantically running one hand under the driver’s side visor.
“It’s not that kind of hotel. Parking’s included. The room key card gets you into the garage. The arm will rise automatically on the way out. Or it’s supposed to at least.”
“Oh, it will. One way or another.”
She sped and spun down the circular levels, controlling the car through the turns but never easing off the gas. When they reached the bottom floor, he held his breath until the barrier gate’s arm began its slow ascent as the car drew near. He glanced in the rearview mirror, then twisted in his seat to look out the back window.
“They aren’t behind us.”
“Probably realized their mistake and went back to their car. The street we exit onto — is it one way?”
He thought for a moment. “Yes, make a left.”
“How far until the first cross street to the right?”
“To the right? Not far at all. We’re near the corner. So, call it a hundred, a hundred and fifty feet.”
“Okay, listen. I’m going to make a right.”
“No, it’s a left.”
