The offer was so tempting.
In that instant, she would have given anything to be able to trust him. All of a sudden, more than ever before, she realized just how tired she was. Tired of running, tired of looking over her shoulder everywhere she went. It was an infinite road with no end in sight.
She would give anything to be able to trust someone, anyone, for the first time in so long, to turn her face into that broad chest, to ease her burden onto one of those shoulders and let someone else carry the load, if only for a short time.
She didnât say a word. There was nothing she could say, nothing Ross would understand, that wouldnât require explanations she couldnât give. Instead, she turned away and escaped into the bathroom, the moment over. Reality had set in, offering the cold reminder that she couldnât trust this man, or any other.
Allie Freeman âA witness to murder.
Gideon Ross âThe bounty hunter was tracking a criminal when he found a woman running for her life.
Kathleen Mulroney âHer murder set everything in motion.
Price Chastain âThe real estate mogul had gotten away with plenty of crimesâand intended to get away with this one.
Roy Taylor âRossâs nemesis was hunting prey of his own.
Ken Newcomb âRossâs NYPD contact.
Dominick Brancato âA man with a mission of his own.
The taxi rolled to a stop next to the Chastain building just after nine oâclock.
For a moment Allie sat there, listening to the raindrops patter against the roof of the cab, staring out through the liquid-smeared window into the darkness. She knew there was a light burning directly above the door she planned to use to enter the building. The veil of rain obscured it, making the alley between the Manhattan high-rise and its neighbor appear utterly black.
Naturally sheâd forgotten to bring an umbrella. It had been that kind of day.
The driver twisted in his seat and shot her a skeptical glance. âYou sure you donât want me to take you around the front?â
The only thing Allie was sure about was that this was the last place she wanted to be. She was exhausted. Her back was killing her; her feet ached. All she wanted was to sink back against the cushioned seat and have him take her home.
But sheâd made the mistake of doing her brother a favor and getting him tickets for tomorrowâs Mets game, then compounded the error by leaving them on her desk. That was what she got for being in such a hurry to leave work on a Friday in the first place. Of course, with her luck it had to be an early-afternoon game. For her brother and his buddies to get to the ballpark in time, she either had to come back to work tonight or make the trip early in the morning. After the week sheâd had, there was no way she was getting out of bed before noon tomorrow.
She reached into her purse for the fare. âThis is fine.â
âYou want me to wait?â
âNo.â Sheâd be lucky to afford the fare back to Queens without paying him to sit there while she ran inside. Sheâd have to try to hail another taxi when she got out.
Shoving the money into the driverâs open palm and ignoring the look that said he clearly thought she had a few screws loose, Allie stepped out of the cab. A few seconds later it pulled away.
She moved quickly down the alley, muttering under her breath about baseball and younger brothers. She only hoped that by using the back service entrance and bypassing security in the front, she could get in and out faster. One of the night guards who often manned the front desk was a creep. She had no idea if he was working tonight, but wasnât about to risk it.
The rain continued to fall, and she was nearly soaked by the time she spotted the dim light above the back entrance up ahead. A sigh of relief whooshed from between her teeth. More than ready to get inside, she reached into her pocket for the security code she wasnât supposed to have. It was good to have friends in high places, in this case Nadine in Payroll. Nadine wasnât supposed to have it, either, but Allie wasnât about to rat her out.
Her hand had just closed around the slip of paper when she heard voices.