Brad had to be looking up her skirt.

Heat singed Elaine’s cheeks. Her legs were apart and the skirt was hiked up to the tops of her thighs at this point. If he wasn’t looking it would only be because he’d closed his eyes. Despite her best efforts to focus on pulling up into the cavernous area above the ceiling, she had to look down. Incredibly, his eyes were closed. She hauled herself up onto the beam and looked around. Lots of wires. Acres of steel beams. She watched him grab hold of a beam and pull himself up as if he’d been climbing mountains his whole life.

“What now?” she asked. But he just slipped the tile back into its slot on the grid system that supported the dropped ceiling.

“Should we—” Brad held up a hand, silencing her. Even in the near darkness she saw him tense. And then she heard it. Below, the bathroom door had opened….

A Colby Christmas
Debra Webb

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Debra Webb was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it badly enough. She began writing at age nine. Eventually she met and married the man of her dreams, and tried some other occupations, including selling vacuum cleaners and working in a factory, a day-care center, a hospital and a department store. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin, Germany, and Debra became a secretary in the commanding general’s office. By 1985 they were back in the States, and finally moved to Tennessee, to a small town where everyone knows everyone else. With the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing again, looking to mystery and movies for inspiration. In 1998 her dream of writing for Harlequin came true. You can write to Debra with your comments at P.O. Box 64, Huntland, Tennessee 37345 or visit her Web site at www.debrawebb.com to find out exciting news about her next book.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Brad Gibson—He has been offered a position at the Colby Agency, but he may not be able to stay out of jail, or alive, long enough to accept.

Elaine Younger—The Colby Agency receptionist. It takes a near-death experience to propel Elaine into the land of the living. Can she trust Brad Gibson to help her stay that way?

Victoria Colby-Camp—The head of the Colby Agency.

Ian Michaels—Victoria’s second in command and a man who knows how to spot trouble well in advance.

Lucas Camp—Victoria’s husband. Will he make it home for Christmas?

Jim Colby—Victoria’s son. He has a life-altering revelation for his mother.

Tasha Colby—Jim’s wife. She is about to give birth to the first Colby grandchild.

Joseph Reynard—Building security.

Welton Investments—Brad Gibson’s former employer.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One

December 23, 4:30 p.m.

Inside the Colby Agency

Christmas.

How could Christmas be here already? Day after tomorrow. The year had flown by.

Victoria Colby-Camp smiled as she watched the snow float down past the floor-to-ceiling window behind her desk. She loved the snow—loved this city. The flurry of pedestrians rushing to and fro on the street below made her tingle with excitement. Such vibrancy, such diversity, all rolled into one fabulous town.

Her smile stretched into a grin. And any day now she was going to be grandmother. A grandmother! Imagine it. For so many years her son had been lost to her. Just having him home again had been such a blessing. That he’d found a woman who loved him despite his horrific past was simply icing on the cake. But to be blessed with a grandchild, too, Victoria just didn’t know how she could possibly be more fortunate. She had worried after last year’s failed pregnancy. Thank heavens there had been no problems with this one. Her son deserved every moment of happiness that came his way.

The glittering lights draping every office and shop window twinkled especially bright this evening. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and Victoria couldn’t wait to share this special holiday with her family. She had very special presents wrapped and waiting to tuck beneath the tree for Lucas, Jim, Tasha and the coming grandchild. Watching their faces as they opened those gifts and anticipating their surprise had her giddy already and there were still twenty-four hours to go.

She glanced at her wristwatch, the tiny diamonds embellishing the face winking at her like the Christmas lights outside. Lucas had given her this watch for her birthday. She put it on every morning and cherished the feel of it against her skin. Her husband wouldn’t be home until late this evening. She hoped there were no significant delays with inbound flights with this winter storm surrounding the city. She couldn’t bear the idea of spending the holiday without him. The very idea sent an ache through her soul. That he’d had to rush off to Washington so close to the baby’s arrival date had worried her, but Lucas had commitments to his work just as she did. She certainly couldn’t deny him his work, even if she would prefer to have him all to herself every minute of every day.

Clearly she had grown quite selfish as she moved farther past the mid-century mark.

“Victoria, could I have a moment of your time?”

She turned around to face her personal assistant, Mildred Parker-Ballard, who waited just inside her office door. “Certainly, Mildred. Is everything on schedule for tomorrow?”

Mildred looked even lovelier than usual this morning. She wore her hair in a smartly coiffed pageboy style that flattered her oval face, and Victoria was certain she’d lost a few more pounds. Perhaps it was the recent workouts at the gym she and her new husband had joined. Or maybe it was nothing more than wedded bliss. Mildred and Dr. Austin Ballard had finally gotten married last month, in the very same church where a Ballard grandchild had been christened only weeks before.

Victoria had already ordered a very special christening gown for her first grandchild. She and Mildred had pored over magazines and catalogs for weeks before finding the ones they’d wanted in a local shop, where the gowns were handmade, one-of-a-kind creations.

Nothing was too good for the next Colby generation.

“Unless this storm takes a turn for the worst,” Mildred assured, “all will go as planned for tomorrow’s Christmas party.”

Victoria clasped her hands in front of her. “Excellent.” Anticipation welled in her chest. “Think, Mildred, how long it has been since we’ve had Trevor Sloan and Nick Foster here. I can’t believe they were all willing to work their holiday schedules around the agency’s Christmas party.”

With her eyebrows arched high, Mildred peered at Victoria over her glasses. “Don’t go jinxing things, Victoria. We still need the full cooperation of those big silver birds.”

Mildred was right about that. Cancelled and delayed flights were par for the course around the holidays in Chicago. Thankfully most were traveling this evening or very early in the morning. Even Angel Parker-Danes and her enigmatic husband Cole were coming. Jack and Katherine Raine. And so many others. Victoria’s pulse skipped with the mounting excitement. This would be the very best Christmas ever.

“You’ve touched base with the caterers one last time?”

Mildred nodded. “And the entertainment folks. In fact, they’re coming in tonight after hours to set up their instruments and equipment in the big conference room. Elaine has kindly offered to stay and oversee their work.”

Elaine Younger, the agency’s receptionist. She was very good at her job. Very pleasant, very dependable. But untouchable in so many other ways. Despite having been with the agency for more than two years already, she hadn’t bonded with the rest of the staff as most new members did.

“I worry about that girl,” Victoria said, voicing her thoughts to her closest confidant outside her husband.

“She’s asked for tomorrow off again,” Mildred commented, a note of concern in her tone as well. “She does it every year. It’s as if she doesn’t care for Christmas in the least. She never volunteers to help put up the decorations, but she’s always more than happy to help take them down. I don’t understand it.”

Decorating the agency was a bit of an undertaking, Victoria wasn’t so sure she could blame Elaine or anyone else for avoiding that task. Mildred required perfection. Still, it did seem odd that Elaine had no desire to join in any of the holiday traditions. The rest of the staff had welcomed her warmly when she’d come on board.

There appeared to be no rhyme or reason for her distance. And it certainly wasn’t as if Elaine’s parents lived far away, requiring that she leave the city early on Christmas Eve in order to be home for the holiday. She clearly didn’t want to be a part of the agency’s celebration and that saddened Victoria.

“I’ll speak with her,” Victoria offered. “Perhaps I can persuade her to drop by for a few minutes anyway.”

Mildred lifted her shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

A rap on the door drew Victoria’s, as well as Mildred’s, attention there. Ian Michaels, Victoria’s second in command, waited for an invitation to enter. He looked elegant as always in his black suit. Black shirt, black tie. The man always wore black. It was his trademark. Tall, dark and incredibly handsome as the saying went. There was just one difference in Ian’s appearance today. He wore a little Rudolph pin on his lapel and the famous reindeer’s nose flashed like a beacon. Victoria was entirely certain that one of Ian’s children had insisted he wear it.

“Pardon me, ladies,” he said in that charismatic voice that kept all the female employees swooning, and Victoria and Mildred were no exceptions. “May I have a moment of your time, Victoria?”

“I’ll call Santa to make sure nothing’s come up that would prevent him from appearing on time tomorrow,” Mildred volunteered as she headed for the door. She smiled at Ian as she passed him. “If he’s looking for Rudolph, I’ll tell him to give you a call, Ian.”

Victoria put her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh at Ian’s unamused expression. When Mildred had closed the door he strode straight up to Victoria’s desk, his countenance turning infinitely serious as he neared.

“We may have a problem with Gibson.”

“Please.” Victoria gestured to a chair. “Sit. Fill me in.” The last she’d heard all was a go with the selection of the newest member of staff. Bradley Gibson had completed the series of interviews required, each done on his lunch break since he worked such long hours with Welton Investments down on the second floor of this very building.

Victoria and Ian had gone out of their way to facilitate the young man’s schedule. Truth was, they wanted him that badly. Though he would be an investigator in training, Victoria had offered him a starting salary that he couldn’t easily ignore. The agency needed a man with his caliber of expertise in the area of high finance. So many of their clients were snared into scams within that complex world it made perfect sense to employ the very best in the field to work on those cases. Hence Bradley Gibson had been wooed away from Welton. Victoria wasn’t the least bit apologetic. The young man had admitted to being unhappy in his present position for some time. She would hate to lose him at this point.

“A friend from the local Bureau office called to warn me about an imminent announcement that could possibly affect us if the media discovers Gibson is connected to our agency. Apparently they’ve been watching him and are aware of his visits to our offices.”

Victoria let the frown tugging at her brow have its way. “What sort of announcement?” She’d been extremely impressed with Bradley Gibson. She couldn’t believe her instincts had failed her so completely. Only once in her entire career had she misjudged a new hire and even that one time had turned out for the better of all concerned. The idea that the FBI had been watching didn’t faze her. It was the new millennium; with terrorism at epidemic proportions, vigilance was essential.

“Apparently the FBI has had Welton Investments under surveillance for months now. My source wasn’t at liberty to disclose the suspected charges, but I can hazard a guess. Money laundering, perhaps embezzlement. In any event, it appears our Mr. Gibson may be one of the top players involved in this distasteful business. The warrants will be served late tomorrow afternoon, ironically at approximately the same time that our holiday party is scheduled. That’s as much information as he could give me and I doubt I would have gotten that much had he not owed me a tremendous debt.”

Victoria could see where he was going with this. “You think we should withdraw the invitation we made to Mr. Gibson that he join our holiday celebration? Let this play out without our involvement?”

Ian propped his elbows on the arms of the chair, steepled his fingers and considered his response a moment. “I believe we should do what’s best for the agency. If the media gets wind of this sting, they’ll be right behind the arresting agents. You know there’s always a leak to the press. The Bureau likes every move they make to be high profile.”

A former U.S. Marshal, Ian was married to a former FBI agent. But Victoria didn’t need Ian or his lovely wife Nicole to spell out how this would go down. She’d been in this business long enough to know it wouldn’t be pretty.

“Tell me, Ian.” She sat back in her chair and studied the one man she felt with absolute certainty could run the Colby Agency every bit as well as she. She trusted his judgment implicitly. “It’s not that I’m dismissing the Bureau’s assessments, but did you get any sense whatsoever that Mr. Gibson was anything other than what he presented in our interviews?”

Ian moved his head from side to side. “This feels exactly like a setup. Of course, there is always the risk that I’m wrong, but I believe Mr. Gibson may need us far more than we need him just now.”

“We can’t exactly warn him,” Victoria confessed, more for her own benefit than Ian’s. As much as she’d like to help Mr. Gibson with his coming woes, the agency fiercely protected its many sources. Without those sources they could never accomplish the results Colby Agency clients had come to expect. However, she felt obligated on some level to the young man.

“No, we can’t warn him.” The glint in Ian’s eyes told her he had a plan. “We can, however, bring him in early for one final test in an attempt to preempt tomorrow afternoon’s untimely episode.”

“You want to explore more deeply any problems he may be having with his current employer?” Ian couldn’t outright ask about any suspected wrongdoing but he could pose theoretical questions that might prompt certain responses.

Ian nodded. “And I’d like to invite O’Brien to sit in.”

Victoria nodded her understanding. “Outstanding idea.” The newest Colby Agency investigator on staff, besides the two new recruits they’d hired a few months ago, Patrick O’Brien was a former college professor. Not just any sort of college professor, he’d achieved his Ph.D. in psychology, which technically made him Dr. Patrick O’Brien. But he preferred not to be addressed that way. His absolute brilliance when it came to the human mind was uncanny. Victoria wasn’t sure Mr. Gibson would appreciate an on-the-sly analysis, but she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt where the accusations against him were concerned. This route would be discreet and, hopefully, helpful to all involved.

“Shall I see if Mr. Gibson is available during his lunch hour tomorrow?” Many of the offices were either closed or shut down early on Christmas Eve. Like the Colby Agency, Welton Investments was not one of those.

Ian stood. “I’ll make arrangements with O’Brien before I leave for the day.”

Almost five o’clock. “Very good. I’ll let you know if I can’t reach Mr. Gibson.”

Victoria entered the number as Ian left her office. When the receptionist two floors below completed her company spiel, Victoria said, “Brad Gibson, please.”

The moment’s hesitation that followed set Victoria on edge. Even before the woman’s response finally came, dread had started to well all too rapidly. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Gibson…” She cleared her throat but even that didn’t stop it from wobbling as she continued. “Mr. Gibson is no longer with this firm.”

Victoria thanked the woman and placed the handset in its cradle. She immediately buzzed Ian, but he was already back at her door.

“Gibson is missing,” he said as he moved into her office. “My source just called. Apparently Gibson didn’t show up for work this morning. An hour ago a neighbor reported that his apartment door was standing open. The apartment was ransacked. No clues as to what was taken, at this point. No body was found but there was a considerable amount of blood. Forensics is attempting to determine if the blood belongs to Gibson.”

Uneasiness added a few extra beats per minute to Victoria’s heart rate. This didn’t feel right. She’d spoken to this man on several occasions. Bradley Gibson was no bad guy and he certainly wasn’t a killer.

“Let’s put someone on this, Ian. The boys at the Bureau won’t like it, but I can’t let this go without seeing if there is any way we can help Mr. Gibson.” Dead or alive, she didn’t add.

“I’ll look into the case myself,” Ian offered.

“I would appreciate that. This doesn’t feel right.”

Victoria sat very still for a long moment after Ian had gone. It was almost Christmas….

She stood and moved back to her spacious window. The snow was falling harder now—big, lush flakes. Life was so fragile. All that one cherished could be lost in a mere instant.

She offered a quick, silent prayer for Bradley Gibson.

This would not be such a happy holiday for him.

Chapter Two

December 23, 7:45 p.m.

The sound of children laughing woke Elaine Younger from a dead sleep.

She sat straight up and pushed the hair out of her face.

The office…she was still at the office.

She could feel the imprint of her forearm marred into her forehead. She rubbed at it with the heel of her hand.

The sound she’d heard had come from the radio. Christmas music…“Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”

Disgust groaned out of her as she pushed up from her desk. She’d listened to that stuff all day long, every day for the past three weeks. Enough already.

She moved around her desk and headed for the lounge. The media control center was in the lounge supply room. Everyone else had already gone home except her. She could turn off the music now and no one would care.

It was nearly eight. Where the heck were those musicians? Hadn’t Mildred said they’d be here about seven? Just her luck that they’d be running late. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep at her desk.

Elaine flipped on the overhead light, crossed to the far side of the lounge and went into the supply room, where cases of soft drinks and other refreshments, as well as stacks of napkins and disposable cups, were stored. She opened the control panel door and entered the sequence to shut down the piped-in music.

The silence that followed was truly golden.

She nabbed herself a bag of chips and a bottle of water before turning off the lights and heading back to her desk. Maybe she’d call security and see if they’d heard anything. If the musicians weren’t coming until tomorrow morning there was no reason for her to hang around.

Maybe there’d been a miscommunication but she doubted it. Mildred never got things like that wrong.

Elaine had the day off tomorrow. She couldn’t wait to get home and plug in an action flick—anything to escape the holiday hoopla. Her folks would call at nine and they’d talk about whether to have hard rolls or soft with the ham. It wasn’t as if Christmas had ever been a big deal with her family. She didn’t get why the whole world had to go into such major pandemonium over this time of year.

Christmas should be private…without all the fuss.

She’d just popped a chip into her mouth when her line rang. Hurrying to her desk, she washed the chip down with a sip of water. If she were lucky that would be security letting her know the musicians had arrived. She placed the bag of chips and bottle of water onto her desk and grabbed the phone.

“The Colby Agency.”

“Yes, ma’am, this is Joseph in security. I’m at the front door and there are three gentlemen here who say they have to set up their instruments on your floor.”

“Thank you, Joseph. This is Elaine Younger and I’ve been expecting them. Please send them up.”

“They’re going to have to use the freight elevator, Miss Younger. Some of these cases are quite large.”

“That’s fine, Joseph. Whatever works best. I’ll meet them at the freight elevator.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Elaine dropped the receiver back onto its cradle and hurried around behind her desk to get the ring of keys, including the one for the freight elevator. She scratched around in the middle desk drawer. Didn’t see anything even remotely resembling keys. Where the heck had she put them? “There you are.” She grabbed the bracelet-style key ring, automatically slid it onto her wrist, and headed to the west end of the building.

The freight elevator was set up to allow stops on any floor in the building, but only an authorized employee on each floor could enter the necessary approval code for the elevator doors to open. A key was required to access the digital control pad.

The Colby Agency encompassed the entire fourth floor. The main elevators stopped in the lobby, directly in front of Elaine’s desk. From the lobby, a wide main corridor to the left of her desk led past the conference room, restrooms, the lounge and the offices of several of the highest ranking investigators. At the end of that main corridor was Victoria’s suite of offices, including the one belonging to Mildred, as well as the emergency exit to the stairwell. That was where the main corridor ended, but a slightly narrower hall took a right from there and moved around the perimeter of the building, coming to an end at the freight elevator. Along that long, L-shaped hall were several additional smaller offices, the massive research department, the files room and a larger main supply room.

The agency’s last remodeling had included extensive decorating changes, including new carpeting and lush furnishings, for every square foot. Even the files and supply rooms were aesthetically appealing.

Elaine didn’t rush. It would take a few minutes for the musicians to load up their goods and set the elevator in motion. Joseph had said that some of their cases were pretty large. She wondered about that. Wasn’t the entertainment for tomorrow’s party supposed to be a small three-or four-piece band?

Oh well. She knew nothing about the equipment required to put on a musical performance. For the first time she wondered how long it would take for these guys to set up. She’d be lucky to be out of here by ten.

Elaine rolled her eyes and picked through the keys on the ring to locate the right one. Well, it wasn’t as if she had any real plans anyway. She pushed the designated key into the lock and turned it to the right. The door opened, revealing the keypad.

She got as far as the second digit of the code when the lights went out.

Total darkness swallowed her up for the space of two heartbeats before the emergency lights kicked on.

Elaine let out the breath she’d unconsciously held.

“Well, okay, then.” No electricity. No elevators.

She did an about-face and strode back in the direction of her office.

Blackouts in the dead of winter weren’t unheard of but they were generally precipitated by a serious snow or ice storm or plummeting temperatures. It was still snowing outside, she noted as she walked briskly down that long semi-dark hall, but it wasn’t that bad. She hesitated a moment or two to stare out that long wall of glass. Just a thick dusting on the ground so far. No big deal.

But there were lots of other things that could cause this kind of power outage. A major traffic incident involving a relay station would do the trick. The system could be overloaded. It was damned cold outside. She chafed her arms. Getting chillier in here as well. She should have grabbed her sweater.

When she reached Victoria’s suite of offices and the wider corridor beyond, she had the almost overwhelming urge to break into a run.

Ridiculous. She’d been here alone at night dozens of times. This wasn’t the first time the power had failed. Falling asleep at her desk had her feeling off balance. Not to mention she was running on overload herself where the holidays were concerned.

“Sheesh,” she muttered, “that’s it.”

The holidays. The whole city was decorated to the max, especially with lights. Lots and lots of extra lights. No wonder the power had failed.

At her desk she snatched up the receiver and entered the number for security. She waited through ring after ring. No one answered. Joseph was probably at the freight elevator with the musicians and their equipment.

“Damn.”

Usually there were two guards. Why didn’t the other guy answer?

“Don’t panic.” Both guards were likely busy doing whatever had to be done during a power outage. She should just calm down.

She had two choices. She could either wait for the power to resume or she could hustle down to the main lobby and see what was going on. It would be just her luck that halfway down to the first floor the lights would kick back on and she’d have to run back up to authorize the freight elevator doors to open.

Waiting was the best course of action. If she were wrong, Joseph or the other security guard would call and let her know what she should do.

Not a problem.

While she waited she tidied her desk. Separated the few messages she’d taken the last couple hours of the workday. Each investigator had his or her own slot in a carousel on her desk. Victoria’s messages were passed on to her assistant, Mildred. The week’s supply requests lay in a neat stack in Elaine’s inbox. She inventoried and ordered general office supplies each week. Any requests beyond the usual were dropped off in writing for her to have authorized. Mildred did the routine authorizing. Most of the time she helped Elaine check in the supplies when they arrived. It was a relatively big job, definitely made for two.

All in all Elaine liked her position here at the Colby Agency. She stepped back and considered her work area in the meager light.

Most of the time she liked it. Things got stressful at Christmas. Investigators were working hard to wrap up their assignments. Holiday work schedules were a pain in the rear. Everyone wanted extra time off between Thanksgiving and New Year’s. Elaine was glad she didn’t get that same fever.

The holidays were, for the most part, just another day to her.

Last year she’d taken up Mildred’s slack so she could be off for her niece’s wedding preparations.

That was another big deal here at the Colby Agency. Weddings. Oh, yes, and births. The entire staff operated more like a large family than a group of unrelated employees. At times she found the pressure to be involved tedious.

Regardless, the Colby Agency was the best. She had to admit that. No matter how high-profile and complex, or how small and seemingly insignificant the assignment, the job always got done. That was the major reason she stayed. She could put up with most anything to be on the winning team.

Ten minutes passed.

Still no call. Still no power.

The memory of opening that control panel door and starting to enter the code for the elevator pushed to the forefront of her thoughts. She’d turned around and walked back to her office. She’d noticed the snow still falling outside. The dusting on the ground below.

And the lights.

She whirled toward the wall of windows behind her desk.

The whole city was lit up like a giant Christmas tree.

If there was a blackout, why wasn’t anyone else affected?

Her full attention glued to the lights outside, she moved to the window and stared down at the street. There were still a few pedestrians on the sidewalks. Not a single building anywhere in sight was dark.

What the hell was going on?

She called security again.

This time she got a strange busy signal, the kind that more often meant something was wrong with the phone line.

Fine. She’d just have to go down to the main lobby and find out what the problem was. It might be silly of her, but she couldn’t just wait around here. She reached under her desk to fish her cell phone from her purse. Her concern might be for nothing but she wasn’t about to head down a dimly lit stairwell in a deserted building without her cell phone. Maybe she’d seen one too many horror flicks.

Phone in hand, she strode determinedly toward the end of the corridor, where the emergency exit provided handy access for the head of the agency.

She twisted the knob and pushed but the door didn’t budge. Wait a minute. She stepped back and surveyed the door. This wasn’t right. It was an emergency exit. Emergency exits weren’t ever supposed to be locked.

Jiggling the knob again she had to admit defeat. It was definitely locked.

A spurt of mild panic surged in her chest.

Okay. Stay calm. There had to be an explanation for this. She looked at the ring of keys she’d shoved onto her wrist. She was the keeper of the keys. There had to be a key on here for this door as well, though she didn’t actually recall having been told about one. More than two years had passed since her initial training. Maybe she’d forgotten.

Using trial and error, she tried one key after the other to see if one opened the door. Wouldn’t you know it, the final key she attempted did the trick.

Thank God.

This was totally weird.

She stepped into the stairwell, let the door close behind her with a distinct click. Like most people she preferred the elevators so she’d only been in the stairwell once or twice. Both times for a fire drill.

Even with the emergency lights the gloom gave her the shivers. Layers of beige paint on the walls, railing and stairs didn’t help. No windows. She shivered. Damned creepy at this time of night.

This whole power outage thing had spooked her unreasonably. She left the office after dark most of the winter. What was the problem here? She shook off the lingering feelings of foreboding. All she had to do was go downstairs and locate Joseph or the other guard. Service to the phone on the security desk may have been disrupted with the power outage.

Grasping the rail to steady herself, she moved down the stairs. No need to get in a hurry. Now would not be a good time to fall and break something. She might not be discovered until morning. Ian Michaels and several of the other investigators all took the stairs on a regular basis.

Third floor. She wondered vaguely as she passed if that door was locked as well. That part still puzzled her. What good was an emergency exit if it were locked?

Other than the tap of her boot heels, the stairwell was eerily quiet. But then it would be. Every single soul who worked on the premises other than she and the two security guards had likely gone home already.

She was never in that big of a hurry to leave work. It was just her and her tiny apartment. No one waited for her, not even a dog or cat. She’d thought about getting one but then she’d worry that if she had to stay late at the office the animal would be alone too much. Her evenings usually consisted of going home, heating up a frozen dinner in the microwave and then getting lost in a movie. Horror, action, comedies, she liked them all. Once in a while her neighbor invited her out to dinner, but they really didn’t have that much in common.

And dating. Well that was a joke. The closest thing she’d had to a date recently was when the guy at the video store had asked her to hang around to have coffee with him on his break. That hadn’t lasted beyond his fifteen-minute break.

Second floor. Still quiet as a tomb.

Not that she was feeling sorry for herself. She liked her life just as it was. No dramatics, no extra pressure. Just plenty of time to enjoy being who she was.

One of the new guys hired in last spring’s job fair had flirted with her at first. Todd Thompson. But he’d ended up marrying his first assignment. Most of the other investigators considered her their little sister or something. They sure didn’t look at her with an eye toward dating.

Definitely not.

It wasn’t that she was hideous to look at or anything like that. She was thin, without really trying. She actually looked younger than her twenty-six years. She wouldn’t likely be winning any beauty contests, but she had a nice face. Big brown eyes. That was the part about herself she liked best. Not that she dwelled on how she looked. She didn’t. She didn’t waste money on designer clothes, either. She shopped at the more reasonably priced discount stores, which ensured she had a healthy savings.

Maybe she’d take an exotic vacation one of these days.

Maui, Cancun, someplace warm with sandy beaches.

When she reached the door that would open into the wide corridor that led into the first-floor main lobby she found it locked as well.

This was too weird. First thing Monday morning she would call maintenance and have this situation looked into. If that didn’t take care of the problem she would call the fire marshal. What if she hadn’t had the keys and there had been a fire?

The building could go up in flames and she wouldn’t be able to get out. Definitely against the rules. Someone would be in serious trouble.

She shuddered as she twisted the key in the lock. A person never thought of things like that until they were thrust into the situation.

Beige décor gave way to marbled floors and soaring ceilings as she followed the short corridor that spilled into the main lobby. The ambience was every bit as posh as one would expect in a building with such elite tenants.

The lighting wasn’t much better down here. The higher ceilings and towering glass front entry provided some additional illumination from the city lights.

Her heels clicked on the marble as she crossed the massive space. Even down here it was graveyard silent.

Bizarre.

The security desk was unmanned.

No sign of the musicians for tomorrow’s entertainment. Or their cases of equipment.

Maybe Joseph had escorted the gentlemen to the freight elevator already. But where was the other guard? And, considering they couldn’t board the elevator, why hadn’t Joseph returned? Then again, maybe the musicians were stuck on the elevator and Joseph was trying to help.

Still, leaving the security desk unmanned was completely unprofessional. Victoria would be extremely disappointed that security turned so lax after hours.

Admittedly Elaine had never stayed quite this late, but she’d never known security to just disappear.

Something had to be wrong.

Calling 911 might be overreacting but she wasn’t about to pretend any longer that things were as they should be. She’d run out of excuses.

Elaine moved around to the back of the security desk. Her foot caught on the same object her gaze had landed on the instant she rounded the corner of the desk, only her brain hadn’t accepted the analysis just yet.

Joseph.

A scream rushed into her throat but fear had clamped shut the muscles in her neck.

Her body trembling, she lowered into a crouch and touched him. A dark stain had spread out from a small hole in the center of his chest. The navy color of the uniform distorted the color but she knew it was blood.

He’d been shot.

A surge of air rushed into her lungs, forcing her heart to race. Some part of her screamed at her to cry out for help, but some other part, a deeply entrenched instinct she hadn’t known existed until now, kept her silent.

Her fingers shaking, she touched his neck. No pulse. His skin was too cool. Was his heart still beating? No heartbeat.

She got into position for CPR, except she couldn’t feel any breath on her cheek. No rise and fall of his chest.

Tilting his head back, she opened his mouth, ensured the airway was unobstructed and forced air into his mouth. Something was wrong. The lungs didn’t expand…chest didn’t rise. She tried again. Nothing.

Oh, God.

She moved into position over his chest and attempted compressions. She worked until her arms were so weak she couldn’t press anymore.

He was dead.

She had to call for help. She should have done that first. But she’d panicked.

Her phone. Where was her cell?

She’d had it in her hand.

She must have dropped it when she found Joseph.

But where was it?

Pressing her cheek to the floor she peered under the security desk. There it was. She couldn’t reach it, needed something to reach under there and drag it out.

Maybe the phones down here worked.

She scrambled to her feet, almost tripping over Joseph’s body. Grabbing the phone, she pushed a button for an outside line but got no dial tone. She stabbed another one. Nothing.

Fear roared through her.

What the hell was wrong with the phone?

She poked buttons until she’d tried every line available. Still no dial tone.

Okay. Her cell. She’d just have to get her cell from under this desk. There was no way in hell she could move it. It was huge. She needed a ruler or something else long and flat to sweep the phone from under the desk.

Just then movement on the security monitors captured her attention.

Two men. She saw two men clad completely in black, including ski masks. As she watched one opened a large trunk. Another man, dressed the same way, rose up as if rising from a coffin and climbed out. A second trunk was opened to reveal another man.

Large cases.

The musicians?

Why would they have masked men hidden in their equipment cases?

And where the hell was the other security guard?

She peered at all four of the monitors stationed on the counter. Two were designed to change channels every few seconds, providing views of different floors and corridors. No movement anywhere but there. Where was that? Then she saw it…the freight elevator.

First floor.

Terror lit in her blood.

Two of the men exited the range of the camera but returned in seconds lugging…a body.

She identified the uniform. The other security guard.

Her breath trapped in her lungs.

The men dumped the body into one of the cases. Closed and locked it.

She stared at the monitor…her ability to think frozen with absolute fear.

Wait. Where were the other two men?

No sooner had the thought formed than the man still on camera, using a key ring similar to the one on her wrist, attempted to activate the freight elevator.

No power. No elevator.

She had to call the police.

Frantic now, she dug through the drawers. Couldn’t find anything longer than an ink pen.

She glanced at the monitor. Two men waited by the freight elevator. Movement on another monitor. Two men…moving down a corridor. Marble floors.

They were coming back to the lobby.

She had to hide.

Stumbling over Joseph, she landed hard on the floor.

She scrambled to her feet. Realizing the boots would make too much noise, she frantically tugged them off.

She had to run.

Now.

There was no place to go except…she frantically searched her memory banks for any sort of hiding place.

The snack shop.

Closing her fingers around the keys that dangled from the ring on her wrist to keep them quiet, she rushed past the elevators, almost falling when her feet slipped. Damn these tights. Running as fast as she could without making any sound or busting her butt, she didn’t let herself look back. Couldn’t slow down for anything.

The shop was closed but half a dozen tables and chairs were scattered around its entrance. She crouched behind the table closest to the wall, hoping the chairs would provide sufficient camouflage. There were three other tables staggered in front of the one she’d chosen. Surely they would provide additional coverage…enough so no one would see her.

Thank God she’d worn her favorite dark brown skirt and turtleneck today, as it helped her to blend in with the dark metal legs of the table and chairs. If she were brutally honest with herself she’d probably only selected the drab colors as an act of rebellion against the reds and greens of the holiday fanatics.

Whatever the reason, she was damned glad she had. Except for the tights. Running in them was dangerous. She bit her lip. She should get rid of them now to ensure she wasn’t sorry later. Careful not to make a sound she wiggled the damned things off her hips and down her legs and stuffed them into the closest chair. She shivered as the cool air replaced the warm woolly fabric against her skin. Freezing to death was preferable over being murdered.

The two masked men moved around the security desk. They hefted Joseph’s body and started back in the direction they’d come. He’d be hidden in one of the cases just like the other guard.

Maybe once they were gone she could risk going back after her cell phone.

She held as still as possible. Listened as their footsteps faded. She hadn’t heard them approaching until they were far too close for comfort, but then they hadn’t been carrying a body.

Once the silence had lasted to the count of ten, she grabbed her boots and hugged them to her chest as she cautiously slipped from her hiding place.

Holding her breath, she tiptoed as fast as she dared back to the security desk. Avoiding the blood splatters, she dropped down onto her hands and knees and tried to shove her hand under the desk.

She couldn’t reach it.

She tried harder and felt the sting of blood where the wood skinned the top of her hand.

Dammit.

She worked until she’d threaded one of her boot legs under the desk, but it wouldn’t reach.

Frustrated, she rose up. Jammed her fingers through her hair. There had to be something around here she could use to reach that damned phone.

A hand slapped down hard over her mouth as she was jerked backward.

She struggled to get away…but it was no use.

Chapter Three

8:39 p.m.

“We have to get out of here. Now.”

Elaine couldn’t see the man’s face, but he didn’t sound as if his intention was to harm her. Still, the words whispered so harshly against her ear had her heart shuddering with terror. What was going on here?

“I’m going to turn you loose, Elaine, but you have to promise me you won’t scream.”

Elaine? Who was this guy? She twisted in an attempt to get a look at him. All she got was a glimpse of blond hair and maybe gray eyes before he tightened the arm he had banded around her, keeping her from any further movement.

“Promise?”

He was waiting for a guarantee from her before he let go. She nodded, prayed she’d be able to stick by her word. Who was this man?

“Okay. As soon as I’ve released you, we have to make a run for the stairwell. Understand?”

Why would he want to go back to the stairwell? She needed to get to her phone. Joseph…her stomach roiled. Poor Joseph was dead…so was the other guard. She wasn’t sure about the second guard, but she knew Joseph had a family. A wife and three kids.

“Do you understand?”

She nodded at his sharply whispered demand.

“All right.”

His arm loosened and his hand came away from her mouth. Before she could stop her automatic instincts she’d scrambled away from him. “Who are you?”

He held a finger to his lips before shifting his attention to the monitors on the counter. Her gaze darted there as well. Staying alive meant staying away from those men.

Joseph’s body had already been locked in one of the cases lined up next to the freight elevator. But none of the masked men were in view of the cameras. Just those big equipment cases that now served as coffins.

Fear shivered over her skin leaving goose bumps in its wake. They could be anywhere…right around the corner.

“There they are.”

Her attention focused on one of the monitors. Fourth floor. A new kind of tension whipped through her.

Two of the masked men were exiting the stairwell door into the Colby Agency.

“What’re they doing?”

She hadn’t realized she’d said the words aloud until the man next to her had changed his position so that he could look her in the eye.

“Looking for you.”

A quake started deep down in her belly. He was right. The guard had called her and asked permission for them to come up. These men knew she was in the building…on the fourth floor.

The Colby Agency had many enemies. She’d always known, had been thoroughly briefed on the potential, that this kind of situation could, theoretically, arise. There was always the chance that as a Colby Agency employee one might be targeted for revenge or coercion.

Elaine just hadn’t expected it to be her.

She didn’t know anything about cases, had never worked an investigation. Sure, she had access to most everything in the offices….

Maybe that was it.

These guys had come here under the pretense of setting up their equipment in order to accomplish their mission and somehow something had gone wrong. Either Joseph or the other guard had gotten suspicious and now the ugly truth was out. Now they were inside the Colby Agency. But why? Were they looking for files? Or was their agenda to lay in wait until the office reopened tomorrow morning?

She pushed the questions and thoughts aside. Right now, at this moment, she was the only representative of the Colby Agency on the premises. There was no one else. Not Simon Ruhl or Ian Michaels or any of the other brilliant investigators.

Just her.

“We have to stop them.”

Her unidentified companion made a sound deep in his throat. “How do you propose we do that?”

He was right. How the hell could they stop these guys? The men wearing the masks were armed, were professionals so far as she could determine. She and—she glanced at the man next to her—this guy couldn’t hope to do this alone.

“Do you have a cell phone?” Hers was still under the massive desk.

He gave his head a quick shake. “Lost it.”

Well that made two of them. “Mine’s under there.” She pointed to the bottom of the security desk where it hovered just an inch or so above the floor. Why the hell did she have to have such a thin phone? If it had been just a little thicker it wouldn’t have fit under there. From the corner of her eye she saw the blood on the floor. She shuddered, this time the reaction shook her visibly.

Two men were dead.

Her new friend in this nightmare motioned for her to move. Maybe he could reach her phone. She crept back from the desk so that he could lie flat down on the floor.

“We need something to sweep it out.”

Duh. “I know, but I couldn’t find anything, and then I got interrupted.”

He scrambled back up to a kneeling position and reached for his belt buckle.

Her tension blasted to a new level. “What’re you doing?”

“Maybe I can sweep it out with this.” He wrenched the belt free of his trousers and flattened on the floor once more.

Elaine wrung her hands as she watched him thread the belt beneath the desk. If this worked they could have help on the way within minutes. Movement on the monitor hauled her attention upward.

Two of the masked men, weapons drawn, walked along a corridor.

Marble floor…

Damn. “They’re coming.”

The stranger still angling for her phone looked up at her. “What?”

“Two of those men are coming.”

Somehow he was on his feet and dragging her away from the security desk by the time she said the last word. Her mind was still attempting to analyze the way he’d gone from on the floor to on his feet like an Olympic gymnast.

Time didn’t permit them to make it all the way to the snack shop to hide. They were forced to crouch next to the row of self-service newspaper stands halfway between the security desk and the snack shop. For Elaine, curling into a ball was quite sufficient for staying out of sight. But the guy with her, his shoulders were too broad if he sat sideways and his legs too long to fold up compactly if he turned the other way. He had no choice but to flatten out against the wall next to her. If a sudden move were required he might be in serious trouble. Then again, he did appear able to move with amazing agility.

Elaine could hear the two men at the security desk. They rummaged through the drawers and doors beneath the counter, rifling things around, slamming drawers and doors. What were they looking for? Map of the building? Keys? The security guards carried a ring of keys on their belts. Most likely these criminals already had those. What else could they be trying to find? And why were the other two at the Colby Agency offices?

Holding her breath, she raised her head just far enough to peek over the tops of the newspaper stands. The two appeared to have given up on finding whatever they were looking for. One bent down, then straightened, the discarded belt in his hand.

Elaine’s breath locked in her lungs. They’d never believe the belt had been left behind by one of the guards. She wasn’t that lucky.

Familiar musical notes shattered the silence.

Elaine froze.

She knew that tune.

Her cell phone.

Damn.

It had to be nine o’clock. Her mother called her every night at nine.

One of the masked men got down on the floor and peered beneath the desk. Damn. Damn. Damn. They would know she’d been down here.

Using the same technique her still unidentified companion had started, the masked man fished out her cell phone. He waited until the music died and then he opened it. She could imagine him scrolling through her address book, checking her voice mail.

He closed her phone, dropped it on the floor and smashed it with the heel of his boot. She jerked at the violence behind the move.

The man looked up abruptly and surveyed the lobby, as if she’d telegraphed her displeasure straight to him.

Elaine ducked her head down.

She felt the man behind her stir. Clearly he’d recognized that it was her phone that had announced its presence.

If those two bad guys started in this direction…Dread churned in her belly. There was no place to hide. If they even moved they could be spotted.

Even breathing might not be a good idea so she held her breath.

The soft rasp of a rubber sole against marble vibrated across her senses.

One of the men was coming.

Fear hurdled into her chest. Her heart reacted by skipping a beat.

What could she do?

The crackle of a radio broke the tension.

A quietly muttered yes sent a new wave of terror through her. Whoever answered his radio couldn’t be more than half a dozen yards away.

More talk, too low to comprehend and fading. The man speaking was moving away.

She had to look. Just to be sure.

Blood roaring in her ears, she dared another peek above the top of the newspaper stands.

Both masked men were back at the desk, still looking for something. And then, as if God had answered her silent prayers at that precise moment, the two walked hurriedly away from the security desk. She tried to see where they went but she couldn’t be sure if they returned to the stairwell entry or turned in the other direction that led to the freight elevator.

As if he’d been watching the whole thing through her eyes, the man behind her was up and tugging her after him. How the hell did he do that?

She wanted to ask where they were going and what he planned to do but she didn’t have the nerve to risk even a word. She couldn’t be positive about how far the two killers had moved away from the lobby.

When he dragged her into the corridor—the same corridor which those two killers had taken—she balked.

“What’re you doing?” Was he trying to get them caught? No, not caught—killed.

Again he held one finger to his lips and ushered her forward.

She stared with longing at the front entry. It would be so easy to make a run for it…but those doors would be locked and any attempt to get them open would trigger an alarm. Breaking the glass would take throwing a large chair or sofa through it, she imagined. But then, the bad guys would know their location and they would come. The cops would come, too, but the roads were slippery with the snow.

He’d pushed into the ladies’ room before she’d totally given up on the idea of making a run for the nearest exit, alarm or no alarm.

He pressed his finger to her lips when she would have spoken. She couldn’t read his intent.

She leaned against the closed door and hauled in a ragged breath. They were on the first floor. A towering wall of glass made up the front wall of the lobby. Could she draw someone’s attention if she jumped around and waved out there? Would setting off the alarm be the right thing to do? Would the police arrive in time to save her before the bad guys got down to the lobby?

Probably not.

Focus, Elaine. She couldn’t go off on a tangent. She had to keep her mind on the moment…on the man currently occupying the ladies’ room with her.

He checked each stall to make sure they were alone. Then he walked with muted steps back to where she waited.

“Let’s move away from the door,” he suggested so quietly she barely heard him.

The urge to scream was almost overwhelming. People were dying and they were tiptoeing around and whispering.

She did as he said without argument, since she had no desire to give away their location. But now that they had some time to catch their breath she had a question or two for her anonymous ally.

“Who are you?”

She was pretty sure she had asked that before but there hadn’t been time for an answer.

“My name is Brad Gibson.”

A frown furrowed deep into her forehead, causing the ache she hadn’t noticed until now to take hold. Perfect. Everyone should have a headache when running from killers. She settled her attention back on the man standing between her and the long line of sinks on the wall. Brad Gibson. That name sounded vaguely familiar. She hoped like hell it wasn’t because she’d heard it on the news.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Gibson, but that doesn’t tell me a thing. Why are you in this building? Do you work here?”

She didn’t recall seeing him, but then again, she was usually the first to arrive and the last to leave on her floor. Well, besides Victoria.

It was doubtful that she wouldn’t remember seeing this guy though. He was, she realized upon closer inspection, really cute. Tall. Blond hair that looked just right for a shampoo commercial and steady gray eyes. Nice face. The tan-and-navy striped shirt paired nicely with his khaki trousers. The brown leather loafers kept his movements noiseless. She glanced down at the boots in her hand. Great-looking and warm but worthless when it came to stealth.

“Yes. I work—did work,” he amended, “on the second floor at Welton Investments.”

Did work. “Were you fired?”

“In a manner of speaking I suppose I was fired.”

“Wait.” She set her boots on the closest surface, the diaper-changing table provided for the convenience of the building’s clients. She didn’t know why she’d bothered hanging on to them after she’d shed her tights. Maybe because they cost half a paycheck and she wasn’t generally the type to splurge. But in a city like Chicago, good boots were a firm investment. “You were fired and you’re still in the building after hours?” Her gaze narrowed. Maybe this whole thing was about him somehow. But then why would those men have made the bogus appointment to set up equipment in the Colby Agency? Why would they be on the fourth floor at that very minute? And why the hell would they have killed two guards?

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” he assured her.

She wasn’t so sure about that but she’d give him the benefit of the doubt since he didn’t appear inclined to harm her in any way. If she were totally honest he’d probably saved her life once already.

“Meaning,” she prompted.

“It’s a long story, Miss Younger. I’m sure you’d find it boring.” He shoved that thick hair back from his forehead and massaged his temples with his thumb and middle finger as if he had a headache of his own. “Our priority right now needs to be about getting out of here alive.”

Alive. She swallowed back a lump of uncertainty. He was right. These guys weren’t kidding around.

“Why is the power off in this building? The rest of the city seems to be fine.”

“Our visitors did that.” He tugged at his collar as if he were accustomed to adjusting a tie. “I guess they weren’t expecting the back-up safety defense system.”

“What back-up…whatever you said?”

“When they shut off the power, every internal door in the building equipped with a lock went into lockdown mode. Computers, phones, nothing can be accessed. The exit doors become unbreachable from the standpoint of attempting to pick the lock. It would take a small bulldozer to get one of those doors open now. There’s no way anyone’s leaving this building without a major effort and without tripping the alarm.”

“Maybe we should trip the alarm.”

“There’s only two ways to do that.” His gaze leveled with hers. “Break the glass in an outer wall.”

“Or?” Did he have to look so resigned to their fate?

“Start a fire.”

Damn, and she didn’t even smoke. “You carry a lighter?”

That blond head moved from side to side. “You?”

A frustrated breath puffed past her lips. “Nope.”

There had to be something they could do. Staying in this bathroom wasn’t exactly a prime safe zone. It would only be a matter of time before the bad guys searched every damned room in the building looking for her. They might not know about Mr. Gibson, but they knew she was here. Those bastards might not be able to leave the building, but they had keys to every single interior door.

Then again, she thought as she glanced down at her right wrist, so did she.

“We can’t stay in here.” As safe as it felt right now, she knew that wouldn’t last.

“We have to find a place to hide until—”

That he abruptly stopped sent a chill clattering along her spine. “What?” Had he heard something she didn’t?

He set his hands on his hips and looked around the spacious restroom. “We should hide until it’s safe to come out again. Just hide and stay hidden.”

He’d just lied to her. Maybe not lied, but omitted something important. She might not be a trained investigator but she couldn’t have missed that one if she’d tried. He hadn’t even been able to look her in the eye as he’d made his statements. Statements she was pretty sure weren’t what he’d started out to say.

“Right,” she agreed. “We should hide out for sure.” And here she’d thought she had herself a true ally in this war. She’d have to keep an eye on dear old Brad Gibson. He might look like the all-American boy next door, but she didn’t trust anyone who would lie to her.

“Any suggestions?”

His gaze met hers this time. That he could go from lying to wholly sincere amped up her trepidation. Maybe he had some reason for avoiding the truth on a matter that didn’t really have anything to do with the situation they were in.

And maybe Santa would be dropping by her house tomorrow night.

She couldn’t worry about Brad Gibson’s dependability just now. They had to hide. Someplace these guys wouldn’t think to look in a million years. All she needed was a couple of years herself to figure out where that would be.

Inspiration nudged at her. She looked up. Those big rectangular acoustical tiles that indicated the ceiling was dropped somewhat below where it could be. She thought about how high the ceiling was in the lobby, then considered this one. There had to be large space up there above those tiles. There always was in the movies.

She pointed up. “How about up there?”

He considered her suggestion for a long moment, the muscles of his neck flexing as he studied the ceiling. She wondered if he’d been born with that healthy color or if he’d bought it at a local tanning spa.

“You could be on to something.”

She blinked. Scolded herself for thinking about the tanned skin stretched over those toned muscles. To say this wasn’t the time might be a cliché, but this definitely wasn’t the time.

“Let’s have a look up there.” He angled his head toward the stalls and moved in that direction.

She followed him to the very last one. Since it was handicapped accessible there was plenty of room for both of them to be in the stall at once. And the toilet had a higher profile, which would facilitate what came next.

As she watched, Gibson closed the lid and climbed up onto the toilet. He reached overhead and pushed the nearest tile up and out of its designated slot. Climbing up through the opening he’d made would be the challenge. She estimated that Gibson was six or six-one. The ceiling was about nine feet off the floor, higher than the eight feet in her apartment but not quite as high as the ten in her parents’ living room back home. The handicap accessible toilet sat up about two feet. Reaching the tile hadn’t been a problem. All she could say was she hoped he had some good upper body strength to pull himself up there.

Gibson braced one foot on the large pipe at the back of the toilet that provided the handle for flushing. Pushing off from that foot, he reached for the open space and grabbed hold of something she couldn’t see from where she stood. He just kind of hung there with that one foot braced on the plumbing for a second then he raised everything above his shoulders through the opening. She would bet he’d won the medal in the presidential fitness competition every year in school for chin-ups. She’d always stunk at those.

He eased back down onto the closed lid before stepping down to rejoin her on the floor.

“Steel beams,” he explained. “They’re fairly wide, eight inches maybe. We can use those for a path. There’s a whole maze of them up there.” He thought for a moment. “We can follow the beams to any of the rooms on this level, including the elevator shafts.”

“So we can hide up there?” The idea that hiding from those evil men might be that simple sent relief plummeting through her.

He nodded. “I think so.”

“Can we stand up or is this going to be a crawling thing?” That thought deflated her hopes somewhat.

He visually measured her height. “You might manage it. I’ll have to hunker over.”

Didn’t sound comfortable for him. But hey, this was every man for himself. To a degree anyway.

“So, are you game?”

If he meant was she going to do it, damn straight. “Let’s do it.”

He gestured to the toilet. “I’ll give you a boost.”

It wasn’t until she stepped up onto the closed toilet lid that she considered another aspect of the situation.

She fixed Gibson with a warning glare. “If you look up my skirt, I’ll kick you in the face.” Boots or no boots that wouldn’t be pleasant.

His only external reaction to her hostile warning was to blink. “I won’t look up your skirt.”

She tugged at her skirt, wanted it down as far as it would go. “See that you don’t.”

He climbed up next to her. The toilet lid creaked under the added weight. The feel of his body positioned so close behind hers added another layer of tension to the moment.

She closed her eyes and steadied herself. She just wanted to get out of this alive. Him, too, she added.

“I’m going to lift you up,” he murmured close to her hair. “Don’t try to fight me. Just reach for the beam and pull yourself up. I’ll give you plenty of help from down here.”

Elaine took a breath. “Okay. I’m ready.”

But she wasn’t.

His hands closed around her waist and he lifted her as if she weighed nothing at all. Amazing. This guy had to do some serious working out.

“Grab onto the beam anytime.”

The strained sound of his voice snapped her back to attention.

“Oh, sorry.”

She spotted the beam and grabbed hold. Never an athlete, her upper body strength was pathetic, but she pulled with all her might. He had her by the feet now and was providing resistance for her to launch off of.

He had to be looking up her skirt.

Heat singed her cheeks.

Her legs were apart…the skirt was hiked up to the tops of her thighs at this point. If he weren’t looking it would only be because his eyes were closed.

Despite her best efforts to focus on pulling up into the cavernous area above the ceiling, she had to look down.

Incredibly, his eyes were closed.

Impressed, she towed herself up onto the beam, straddling it as though it were a long skinny horse.

She looked around. Lots of wires. Acres of steel beams. And too damned many shadowy areas for comfort. Could be worse, since there were places where it was completely dark and the few emergency lights couldn’t cover the entire space.

“Move it!”

She almost jumped at the harshly uttered command. “Gimme a minute.” She had to get her bearings.

To avoid scraping her thighs along the beam, she got up on all fours and moved carefully away from the opening. She could probably stand up but she just wasn’t ready for that yet.

He grabbed hold of the beam and pulled himself up and onto it as if he’d been climbing mountains his entire life and this was nothing.

“What now?” Was she supposed to sit there or did he want her to move farther along the beam?

“Let me get this back into place.” He slipped the rectangular tile back into its slot on the grid system that supported the dropped ceiling.

The whole thing looked damned shaky to her. Not like these steel beams.

“Should we—”

He held up a hand, silencing her.

Even in the near darkness she saw him tense.

And then she heard it.

Below, the bathroom door whooshed shut.

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