Part 15 (1/2)

Lacey turned around. Blinking tears away, she stared up into his serious eyes. ”You could shoot to wound,” she said, and tried to smile.

”That's it.” His fingers brushed the tears off her cheeks.

Lacey put her arms around him and shut her eyes. If she could only keep on holding him, feeling his strong body against her, the easy rise and fall of his chest, the gentle stroke of his hands on her back, then maybe nothing bad would happen.

The handle of his automatic felt flat and hard against Lacey's belly.

She might reach for it. But that would end the closeness, the trust. Better to keep that, to stay with him, than to risk losing it by going for the gun.

She felt another hardness, lower down.

Scott plucked the tails of her tank top from her shorts, and reached up inside it, caressing her back, then easing her away and moving gently to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He held them in each hand, his palms gliding against her turgid nipples. Lacey moaned. The hands continued to caress her for nearly a full second after she heard the crash of shattering gla.s.s.

Scott looked at her, stunned. ”The windows!”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

The noise of the bursting window came from a distance, from the bathroom or bedroom. Lacey broke for the door. Dropping to a crouch, she grabbed her spray can and pocket knife. She glanced back. Scott was at the hallway entrance, pistol out.

”Let's run!” she snapped.

Scott glanced at her, frowning.

She kicked the chair. It dropped backward to the floor, and she tugged the door open.

”Come on!”

Scott whirled around and ran. He scooped up a table leg and dashed after her through the door. He jerked it shut. ”Get ready. When he comes out, we'll...”

Lacey raced up the corridor. When she reached a corner, she looked back. Scott glanced from the door to her. She motioned for him. He muttered something through his teeth, then ran to join her.

”We had a chance...”

”We've got a better chance if he can't find us.” She shoved open a fire door.

They entered a dimly lighted stairwell. Scott thrust the door shut and leaned against it.

”Come on,” Lacey said. She started up the concrete stairs. ”He'll expect us to head down.”

”Where we going?”

”I don't know.” She turned at the first landing, and started up the next flight of stairs. Above her, she saw the blue metal door to the fourth floor. She raced up, Scott close behind her, and grabbed the k.n.o.b. As she pushed the door open, Scott patted her arm. He pressed his forefinger to his lips. They stood motionless, listening.

For a moment, Lacey heard nothing. Then the metallic sound of a springing latch echoed quietly up the stairwell.

Scott shoved the door hard. It flew open, and he pointed to the upper steps. The door banged against the outside wall as they turned away and leapt up the stairs three at a time. In seconds, they reached the landing. Lacey charged up the remaining stairs. Halfway to the top, she heard the lower door clump shut.

Would it fool him? If so, he would only be delayed long enough to leave the stairwell and glance down the fourth floor corridor.

Scott, slightly above her, was first to reach the door. He held it open for Lacey. She raced through. Scott eased it shut, turning the k.n.o.b to prevent the latch from snapping back into place.

With a few steps, they pa.s.sed an ice machine and rounded a corner. Scott stopped, looking each way.

To the right, the corridor led past the doors of only half a dozen rooms, then abruptly ended. To the left, it seemed to stretch on forever.

”This way,” Scott muttered. He ran to the left.

Past rooms. Past a fire hose and ax. Past swinging doors of staff rooms.

Lacey, sprinting to stay beside him, saw a bank of elevators ahead. ”Let's try those,” she gasped.

They ran for them. The doors of all four elevators were shut. Scott threw himself against the nearest panel and jammed fingers into both b.u.t.tons. Double disks of light appeared between each of the door sets: one with an arrow pointing up, the other down.

Lacey pressed herself to the wall beside him. Craning her neck, she gazed at the dark arrows above the doors. She gasped for air. The spray can and knife were slippery in her hands. She could feel the vibrations of the elevators against her back, hear the distant, quiet bells as they stopped at other floors. She looked up the corridor, squinting as if that might help her see the man's approach, then glanced again at the arrows above her. They stayed dark.

”This is no good,” she whispered.

With a nod of agreement, Scott flung himself away from the wall. They left the elevators behind and dashed down the corridor. Their feet thudded on the carpet. From behind came the quiet ding of an elevator bell. Lacey looked back. They were too far away to return in time. She ran hard to catch up with Scott.

Just ahead, a hallway led off to the left. Scott slowed and turned the corner. He stopped, and Lacey halted beside him. She leaned back against an ice machine, panting for breath.

”What now?” she gasped.

Scott pointed with the club in his left hand. A yard away was a fire door.

”Might as well.”

Across the hall, a door opened. A slight, young man in blue pajamas and a satin robe stepped out backward. He pulled his door shut gently so it stopped against the frame. Turning around, he smiled a surprised greeting. In his hands, he held a cardboard ice bucket.

”Cheerio,” he said.

Scott lunged across the hall, grabbed the front of his robe, and thrust him into the room. Lacey followed. She shut the door quickly and silently.

”Hey now!” the man said. He seemed more offended than afraid. ”What...?”

Scott snarled and raised the club. The man's mouth snapped shut. He looked from Scott to Lacey, eyes narrowing behind his oversized gla.s.ses.

”We're Nick and Nora Charles,” Scott said. ”Asta's back in our room.”

”Oh?”

Scott let go of him. The man offered a small, pale hand. ”Hamlin Alexander.”

After shaking hands, they moved away from the door. One of the double beds was mussed, the other neatly made.