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missed him by inches.
The cold-eyed barbarian at the table rose to his feet. Leroy controlled a nervous quiver. The man was
even bigger than he had looked sitting down, his shoulders massively broad, his arms roped with muscle.
He was darkly tanned, as if he'd spent too long in some misbegotten clime, and scars crisscrossed his
torso. Leroy wouldn't have been surprised to see a broadsword grasped in one big hand.
He'd had it with moonlighting, too, he decided. It was just too dangerous. He didn't care how much
money he was offered, or who did the asking, from now on he would stick with his day job and be
perfectly content with nice, safe blue rinses.
Grayeased up on the pressure on the Glock behind the cover of the black bag, which was still sitting on
the table, and nodded at West, who checked the corridor, closed the door, then quickly and casually
concealed his own gun in one of the gear bags.
Graystudied Leroy. The hairdresser had a cascade of blond ringlets that any woman would kill for, a
perfect sun-bed tan, and a small fortune in designer clothes hanging off his lean frame. He also looked
like he was about to bolt. "Thanks for coming at such short notice, Leroy," he said as smoothly as his
rough voice would allow. "We appreciate it."
Leroy started.Gray's mouth twitched. He was pretty sure he had just made things worse.
"Uh, no problem."Leroy's Adam's apple bobbed. His gaze darted around the room, fastened on the
bags of surveillance gear. "You boys with the, uh, telephone company?"
This timeGray didn't try to hold back on his smile, and apparently that didn't help their case with Leroy,
either. "Not exactly," he drawled, "butclose enough. We are in the communications business."
Chapter 5
Sam slept badly and woke before dawn to the sharp certainty that someone was watching her.
She lay rigid, barely breathing, her ears straining to hear beyond the accelerated thud of her heart. Her
bedside clock glowed luminescent green, telling her it was after5:00 a.m., but only just. Faint street-light
filtered through her curtains. She could discern the outline of her dressing table, the open door.
The room was stuffy. She had kicked her bedclothes off, yet her skin was still damp, the cottonsinglet
she wore stuck to her skin. The heat seemed to press down on her, pinning her to the bed. Long minutes
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ticked by where nothing moved and there was no sound beyond the ones she couldn't muffle.
"There's no one," she said aloud. Her voice quivered huskily, breaking on the last word, and with a
stifled gasp she jack-knifed, hand fumbling for the lamp. Golden light flooded the room. Sam blinked at
the hurtful brightness, let go of the breath that had been dammed up in her throat and folded in onherself ,
hugging her legs.
Her room was the same as when she had gone to sleep, except for the mess she'd made of the bed. The
shirt she'd taken off was still draped over the back of a chair; the historical romance she'd tried to read
was still sitting on her bedside table, a bookmark neatly inserted at the point where she'd given up trying
to concentrate.
Shoving a hand through her damp hair, she forced herself to walk through the flat, switching on lights as
she went, checking windows and doors. Everything was still locked, still secure. If nothing else, the
stuffiness should have told her that, she thought in an attempt at wryness; if someone had broken in, she
would be breathing fresh air.
It had probably been a noise that had awoken her  a cat rummaging through the Dumpster to the side
of the parking lot, or a drunk wandering off course. Most probably it had beenher own overactive
imagination kicking back at her in the form of another bad dream.
Sighing, she grabbed a glass of water, drank thirstily,then headed for the shower. This had happened
often enough the past few nights that she knew she wouldn't go back to sleep, so she might as well get an
early start on work. God knew there was enough for her to do. TheLombardsteam had arrived a day
late, but she guessed the planning meeting that had originally been scheduled for today would proceed.
There would be counsellors and planning people crawling all over the building. And she would have to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]