Maya Banks: No Place to Run

He could see out, but no one could see in.

“Sophie, you have information?”

The casual way in which he posed the question didn’t in any way fool her. Her father wasn’t casual about anything. He was coldly aloof and calculating. He didn’t expect obedience. He demanded it. With chillingly positive results.

She glanced around the room, searching out the position of his guards. There were two inside. At least a dozen outside. Each willing to give his life for the man who owned him. Today she was happy to accommodate them.

“I do have something that might interest you,” she murmured.

He raised a speculative eyebrow as if he couldn’t believe she’d proven useful. She made a show of opening her handbag as if she had something to give him.

Her fingers slid over the rubber stock of the gun, and then one finger curled over the cool metal trigger. In a lightning move, she turned and shot through the bag, downing the first guard. Before the second could react, she fired again, the heavy plunk of the bullet as it smacked his neck the only sound in the room.

The bag fell away, revealing the long barrel of the silencer. Her father stared unflinchingly at her.

“What is this, Sophie?”

She wasn’t talking to the bastard. No stupid games. She had precious seconds to make her getaway before all hell broke loose on his command.

She raised the pistol, and just before she fired, she saw the surprised shock in her father’s eyes. He fell heavily, blood spreading on the polished wood floors.

She yanked the knife from her pocket and rushed over to where he lay. Shoving the collar of his shirt down, she reached for the leather thong that circled his neck and slashed it free.

The thin cylindrical piece of metal lay against his skin, smeared with his blood. She grabbed it, then went to his desk and felt for the button underneath.

Across the room a panel of the floor slid open, revealing a staircase leading down into the underground network of pathways.

Without a single glance back, she hit the stairs running. She’d spent months memorizing the layout. She knew every path, every turn by heart even though she’d never been below. Relying on those long hours of studying the computerized plans, she made her way to the exit where the driver waited for her.

Ten minutes later, she rushed into the sun and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the car there waiting. He hadn’t betrayed her.

He ushered her inside, and when she was settled in the back, he glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

“It is done?”

She swallowed and nodded. “Thank you for helping me.”

The slight incline of his jaw was the only acknowledgment he gave her, as he gunned the engine and roared off. She never looked back. There was nothing for her there.

As the miles passed, she let herself relax. And she dared to hope the impossible.

Freedom.

Finally, she was free.

Five months later

SOPHIE throttled back and the boat slowed, coming to a near standstill in Kentucky Lake. Darkness shrouded her. The sky was overcast. New moon. Only one or two stars poked through the cloud cover. She was running with no lights and keeping to the middle of the lake until she was sure she was close enough to her destination to move quickly to shore.

She studied the small handheld GPS and then lifted her gaze up the shoreline to the north. According to her coordinates, her destination was another mile down the lake.

She swallowed her fear and nervousness and automatically put her hand on her belly in a soothing motion. Would Sam even be there? How would he react to seeing her again? What would he say when he knew the truth about her?

She glanced nervously over her shoulder into the darkness. The lake was a slosh of midnight ink. The only sound she could hear was the low chop against the hull of her boat.

Her nerves were shot. She knew she was taking a risk, but she was out of options. Her uncle’s cronies were closing in on her. She could smell them. She could feel them in every part of her body. There’d been too many close calls in the last weeks.

A smart woman recognized when she could no longer do things on her own. She considered herself a smart woman, which was why she was here. In a damn boat on a damn lake trying to find the father of her baby so hopefully he could protect them both.

After five months of running, the idea of being in such a vulnerable place scared her witless. True, it wasn’t as if she drove boldly into Dover, asked where to find Sam Kelly and then parked in front of his house. She had that much sense. Sam would be the first person her uncle expected her to run to. Which was why she’d stayed away for so long.

And then there was the fact that neither she nor Sam had been honest with the other. Both had been other people. The only real thing between them had been the intense desire. She’d fallen fast and she’d fallen hard.

For a man who’d despise her once he learned the truth.

She eased the boat forward, following the line on her GPS. With any luck, she’d dock right in Sam’s backyard and hope to hell she didn’t get shot for trespassing.

A noise ahead and to the left alerted her. Her head rose and she stared, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in the chilly night air.

A sudden blast of light blinded her. She threw up her arm to shield her face, but it was no use.

The roar of an engine accelerating kicked her self-preservation into gear. Without hesitation, she dove overboard. She smacked into the cold water and felt the shock to her toes.

The larger boat hit hers with a resounding crack. Debris flew into the air and pelted the water all around her. A huge chunk hit the surface in front of her and blew water over her head.

Her mouth filled with water, and she pushed it out before rolling to swim toward shore. She hadn’t gotten a full breath, and already her lungs were tight with the need for air.

She surfaced and sucked in a huge breath. Pain exploded in her arm, and she inhaled another mouthful of water. Shock splintered with needle-like awareness. She touched her arm and felt warmth. Liquid warmth.

Blood.

Son of a bitch had shot her! Terror hit her like a sledgehammer. She fought to keep her panic at bay. She had to hold it together. Why the hell had he shot her?

Her hair went straight upward, and her neck popped back as a hand yanked her out of the water. She banged over the side of a boat, and she had the presence of mind to wrap her arms protectively around her middle.

Her baby. She had to protect her baby.

She landed with a crash on the deck of the boat and squinched her eyes shut against the beam of light shining into her face.

“Get up.”

She cracked open one eye and stared up at the man looming over her. She glanced around and saw no one else.

“Go fuck yourself.”

He kicked her in the arm and agony ricocheted through her body. Then he reached down, curled his hand in her hair and hauled her upright.

If he hadn’t still been holding her, she would have gone down. Her legs refused to cooperate. Her arm was on fire and hung loosely at her side.

“Where is the key, Sophie?”

“Look, I don’t even know you,” she spit out. “You don’t get to call me by my first name. Or at all. Do you think I’m stupid enough to carry it around with me?”

A flash of silver caught her gaze. Her eyes widened when she saw the wicked curve of a very sharp blade. The she raised her gaze higher and saw cold determination in the face of the assassin.

Forcing bravado into her voice, she said, “If you kill me, you get squat.”

“A fact you’re counting on I’m sure,” he said in a flat tone. “My orders are to make you talk. Any way that has to happen. Trust me, you’ll talk.”