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But her first step was escape. Outside the window was a five-to-six-foot drop, then a flat, industrial-style rooftop stretched for a few hundred feet or so. Five to six feet she could handle. Now if she could just get the window to budge. Nope. Not an inch. Great. Breaking the glass would make too much noise and would have her guards descending on her in seconds. She pulled out her pocketknife again. Maybe she could use the blade for leverage. Or…not, she concluded after trying for a couple of minutes. It was meant for cutting, not heavy lifting. So, back to the construction supplies she went. After several more minutes of searching, she located a battered old screwdriver.
She wedged the thing into the tiny crack between the bottom of the window and the sill and pushed down hard. She’d just started to make a bit of progress when the voices returned outside her door.
Damn.
She dove for the tarp and landed on her side.
“What should we do with her?” one of the guys asked.
“We’ll need to take her with us. She’s the bait.”
Bait?
Her heart battered against her chest. They were going to use her to lure Scotty and his team to the canal. Of course they were. The one time she’d had a decent night with a decent guy, and now it would end in bloodshed.
“And the diversion,” another guy said.
Diversion? For what?
“Rigs, you grab her and tote her down,” a new voice said, this one more commanding than the others. “The rest of us will load the equipment in the van.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hayley still had the screwdriver clutched tight in her fist. If she timed it right… She waited until the other footsteps disappeared down the stairs and the new guy’s breathing drew nearer to her side. She could do this. She would take him down. She had no choice.
He tapped her with his boot, and she gathered her strength, then struck, driving the sharp end of the screwdriver deep into his lower leg. The guy screamed and dropped, clutching his shin. Hayley scrambled to the window.
To hell with the noise. Hayley grabbed whatever she could reach and smashed the window. With the way that dude was screaming, his buddies would be up here in seconds anyway. One leg out the window, she peered back and noticed someone else had rushed into the room. The guy’s face looked weird, kind of shiny and pink, like the skin was new and plastic. Her eyes widened. Like a burn patient.
Michael Becks.
“What the hell?” he yelled, but Hayley was already out the window and running for her life.
Get away. Get to Scotty. Get these bastards behind bars where they belong.
She didn’t look back to see if anyone was following her—that would just slow her down. At the edge of the roof, she grabbed hold of a rickety fire escape ladder and climbed down to the ground, then sprinted away as fast as her legs would take her.
Brick buildings and people blurred past as she weaved along the sidewalk. The smells of hot asphalt and bus exhaust stung her nose. She was somewhere downtown—perhaps the old manufacturing district, based on the rusted-out, abandoned spaces around her. Weak sunlight filtered through the clouds above, making her think it was probably around noon. She had no idea how long she’d been out, but it didn’t seem longer than a few hours.
A phone. She needed to get to a phone to call Scotty.
The thud of heavy booted feet behind her kept her zooming forward, though she never once looked back. She just ran and ran and ran.
She made a beeline for the first open establishment she saw—a pawn shop. She ducked inside the dimly lit store and blinked several times to allow her vision to adjust. At the counter, she took a few gulping breaths while the attendant stared at her bug-eyed. She held up a finger, then swallowed hard. “Can…I…use…your… phone?”
“Uh.” The kid gave her a slow once-over. “Is it an emergency?”
“Hell…yes.”
He hesitated, then slid an old rotary dial phone across the counter to her. “Local only.”
“Thanks.”
Hayley started to dial, grateful for her habit of memorizing numbers as soon as she saw them, but the bell above the front door jangled.Crap.She hurried behind the counter next to the kid and plopped down on the floor, the phone in her lap, praying that the dimness of the interior meant she hadn’t been spotted.
“Uh…” The kid frowned down at Hayley, and she held a finger to her lips, silently pleading with him not to give her away. He gave her a confused look, then turned to face the counter again. “Can I help you, sir?”
“I’m looking for a girl. Red hair, curvy. You seen her?”
