In fact, she wanted to do it again.
Clearly she’d sustained a head injury at some point along the way…
The headlights vanished.
Noah pulled back, and she bit her lip rather than let out a sound of regret at the loss of his body’s heat. “Let’s go,” he said. Once again grabbing her hand in his, he pulled her along as they ran through the snow toward the back of the building.
Here, the snow on the sidewalks was thicker, and they sank into it well past their calves. Still, they ran. Bailey’s sides burned, and she could barely catch her breath. The boots she wore were high-heeled and utterly impractical, and if Noah hadn’t had a grip on her, she’d have fallen on her ass.
“Where to?” he asked.
“Around to the back,” she said, gulping for air.
“You have keys?”
He wasn’t even breathing hard, the bastard. “I know the code.” Or so she hoped. It could have been changed myriad times by now.
Behind the lodge they came to a large open courtyard. In better times, this place would have been hopping, filled with tables and outdoor heaters, a stage for a band, the sidewalks lined with shops and cafes and galleries all lit up like Christmas, all year long.
Above were two tall buildings designed to look like a Swiss ski resort, filled with condos, but now they resembled two towering dark, looming ghosts.
Both were empty, she knew, except the penthouse, which Alan had designed and furnished for himself because he liked to visit during construction, and he expected to be kept in style when he did. The penthouse was huge, ridiculously luxurious, and overwhelmingly opulent.
He’d brought her here once, a few months before his death, to show her off at an investor tour. She’d worn a sexy cocktail dress and smiled as directed, and had felt like a piece of meat.
If the money was hidden here, then it had to be there, in the only finished area-Alan’s penthouse.
At the door, she hit the keypad with frozen fingers and clicked in Alan’s favorite number: 6-9-6-9.
“You’re kidding me,” Noah said, watching over her shoulder.
She felt her face heat, wishing some of that would make its way to her fingers, but then the doors clicked and she shoved them open.
Noah pulled her inside and shut the doors behind them. It was pitch dark, and they took a moment for their eyes to adjust. There wasn’t much to adjust to. She knew they stood in a reception area that had been planned to be filled with upscale sophistication and elegance, but for now it was nothing more than expensive tiles and wood and unpaid bills.
“Elevator,” she said. “To the penthouse.”
“The elevator works?”
“Everything works, this place was nearly complete, all except the designers and furnishings, when…”
When Alan had bitten the dust.
He held her back from turning to the elevator. “We have to stop them from getting in here.” His voice was disembodied in the dark. “Or we’re sitting ducks.”
A grim reminder that they were being followed. She resisted grabbing him and never letting go. “They won’t know the code.”
“That won’t stop them.”
His grim certainty, in a cool, calm voice, gave her a shiver. No, that wouldn’t stop them. “What are you going to do?”
“Whatever I have to.”
Horror filled her. “Kill them?”
“Hell, no.” She felt him shudder, and his reaction might have been funny if anything about this situation could have possibly been funny. She’d been surrounded by bad guys for so long now, she just assumed everyone was one. “Sorry.”
“Forget it. Let’s just get what you need.”
She’d have sworn she’d become immune to emotions after all she’d been through, but like before with him, her throat tightened. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. If anything more strange happens, I’m calling the cops.”
Panic filled her. “The police can’t help me.”
“Of course they can.”
“No.” She wouldn’t give Stephen a reason to go after Kenny. Or now Noah. “No police. Trust me. They can’t help.”
His gaze slid over her. A muscle in his jaw bunched. From inside his shirt, he pulled out what looked like a pen, but when he flicked a switch, it lit up like a flashlight.
“Stay back,” he said as he turned to some sort of electrical panel next to the doors. Opening it, he began punching numbers on the keypad. “Away from the window.”
“What are you doing?”
He shut the panel. “Gaining us some time.”
He’d messed up the code somehow, and she just looked at him, stunned. She’d have sworn she’d had him pegged, with that gorgeous smile, his careless, easy way of wearing clothes, the light stride, as if he’d never had a care in the world.
But he kept surprising her, leaving her off center, and completely unable to peg him. And damn, if she didn’t find herself with the tragically ridiculous realization that she was nursing a serious crush. Hell of a place to be, considering she’d practically kidnapped him. “Who are you, MacGyver?”
With the glow of the penlight, she saw a ghost of a smile curve his lips. “Come on.”
“They’ll just break the glass to get in.”
“Maybe, but they’ll have to dismantle the alarm I just reset first, and that’s going to buy us a few.”
She moved to the elevator, which he studied for a brief moment. “No,” he said.
“No?”
“The stairs.”
She looked down at her worthless high-heeled boots. Of course, the stairs. “It’s nine flights.”
“Then we’d better hurry.”
“But-”
“Look, getting stuck in the elevator because they’ve cut the electricity doesn’t appeal much.”
No. No, it didn’t.
“Nor does the idea of the doors opening to surprise goons, if they somehow beat us up there. Come on.” He opened the stairwell door and looked back at her.
She sighed, then entered. The first flight wasn’t so bad, and she began to think maybe she could do this without even breaking a sweat.
Then halfway up the second flight, she began to huff and puff. Oddly enough, she remained cold, so cold she still shivered hard enough to rattle her teeth together.
“Shh,” he murmured.
Shh? Shh? She’d like to shh him! But then he went still, and she plowed into his back.
He reached back to steady her, his arm wrapping around her hips. This action glued her to his side, which in turn left her feeling extremely clumsy, and yet…
Utterly female.
She couldn’t help it, pressed against him as hard as she was, inhaling his warm scent. Absorbing his body heat, she felt distinctly protected. Worried about.
And for the first time all night, just a little bit heated. But even all the body heat in the world couldn’t fuel her engine. They kept moving.
On the third-floor landing, she was breathing so hard, she thought she might die. On the fifth floor, she came to a gasping halt, knowing it. “Can’t.”
“Only four more flights.”
She would have laughed if she’d had the breath. Four more flights? She’d have better luck at Mt. Everest. “I definitely need…to get back to…those yoga classes.”
He let out a soft laugh, and she felt his gaze run up her body. “I thought you were a model.”
“Yes, but my metabolism is hereditary. I’m in terrible aerobic shape.”
“You look like you do all right.”
As before, her body tingled with an awareness that felt a little bit shocking given she was in the middle of the most terror-filled night of her life.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s do this.” And taking her hand, he tugged her up another flight.
She did her best, but she was definitely lagging. He simply pulled her along, practically carrying her. “What’s up here?” he asked.
“A penthouse suite.”
“No, what’s up here that we can’t leave until we get it?”
We.
For so long she’d been an I, all alone in this. But he’d said we. He wasn’t going to abandon her, no matter what she deserved, and she put a hand to her pounding heart. She’d swear she could feel it trying to leap out of her chest. She couldn’t even answer. She could barely keep air in her lungs. Instead, she went to follow him as closely as she could, which since he still had a grip on her, was pretty damn close.