Page 9 of Edge of Danger

Her apartment wasn’t much—barely a living room and bedroom, a kitchenette and a closet-sized bathroom. But it was a place to rest her head, where she could feel safe. Or it had been. Every bit of safety she’d ever felt dissolved as she struggled with the sense of violation attacking from all sides.

Who would do this? And why?

“Oh no!” Terror flooded her system as she raced to the nightstand drawer where she kept her money.

Every dollar she’d sacrificed to save was gone. They had taken all of it. She sank to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks.

The ringing of the phone jarred her. She didn’t recognize the number but answered anyway. “Hello?”

“Do you like the redecorating job we did for you?” a cold, nasty voice asked.

Her eyes went wide, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. Whoever had done this took pleasure in the pain and panic they had to know they’d caused.

“Why?” She hated the shaky whisper, hated knowing she was powerless against them, hated knowing there was nothing she could do.

“You know why. All you’ve got to do is tell us where Robert is.”

She didn’t whisper this time. She yelled. “I don’t know!”

“Well, maybe it’s a matter of jogging your memory. What about that? I wonder if somebody comes over to talk to you in person, you’ll remember better.”

She bit back a gasp before ending the call.

That wasn’t an idle threat. She knew that much. People capable of breaking into her apartment, ransacking it and stealing her money were capable of anything.

Whatever Robert had done, she was paying for it. And she’d keep paying if she stayed here.

That realization forced her to her feet. Made her grab the bag thrown across the room at random, dig up the few pieces of clothing still whole and worth wearing and toss them inside.

Her knees threatened to give out, but she pushed herself forward, through the living room and out the door.

Someone rounded the corner of the stairs at the far end of the hall. A tall, hulking sort of man with a neck as thick as his head.

A wave of adrenaline crashed through her system. She darted back into the apartment and closed the door then wedged a chair under the door knob. Not that it would do much good. At best, it would buy her a few extra seconds, but she’d take them. She headed for the fire escape, praying that no one was waiting at the back of the building. The man in the hall hadn’t seen her and wasn’t hurrying so maybe she had a chance.

She moved as fast as her shaky legs would allow, nearly tumbling down the steep, rusted steps. When she reached the ladder, she looked up. Her window was still closed.

But it wouldn’t be for long.

Sacrificing stealth for speed, she clambered down the ladder and into the alley behind the building. Which way should she go? It wouldn’t take Thick Neck long to realize she had escaped and call his friends. She had to figure out a way to hide until they stopped looking.

Think, Tessa, think!

People. She needed a crowd to blend into. Would the pharmacy at the end of the block work? It had to, because there was no other option. She ran down the alley, not daring to waste precious seconds looking over her shoulder. If Thick Neck was following her, she would’ve heard him lumbering down the ladder, but all she heard was the traffic at the end of the alley.

She skidded to a stop and poked her head out just enough to check the sidewalk. All clear. She jogged out of the alley, rounded the corner and ducked inside the pharmacy, where it was hopefully safe.

With her head down, Tessa made her way to the back of the store, grabbed a magazine from the rack, and wedged herself into the corner across from the dome security mirror. Keeping her eyes glued to the mirror, she ran through her options.

Every nickel she had was in her pocket—the tips from her shift at the diner. The few clothes that had survived the “redecorating” were on her back or in the bag slung over her shoulder.

How far could she possibly hope to go?

She jumped when the phone in her pocket rang. It was the same number as before. Her palms were slick, making it hard to keep a hold on the device. There was no way she was going to answer. She powered it down. At least they wouldn’t be able to track her using it if she left it off.

She needed a plan. There had to be something she could do. Somewhere she could go.

Like a gift from the guardian angel she probably didn’t have, inspiration struck. The folded napkin still in her pocket, holding the address of an office building in San Antonio. That was only a couple hours from here.

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