Christina Skye - To Catch a Thief

She had to get to Dakota’s car and call the police.

She heard the first wail of distant sirens as she hit the adjoining wall at a run, channeled her momentum up into a vertical walk, then swung her arm to the wooden flagpole near the roof. Rocking hard, she jammed one ankle into the eaves.

Standard moves for a free climber.

Except for the bullets, she thought grimly. But the rounds appeared to be high, going over her head, and she had the feeling the attack was meant to be a kidnapping, not murder.

The same wasn’t true for her homeless friend…

Or for Dakota.

The thought stole her breath, freezing her in place. Her fingers were bleeding, both elbows rubbed raw. Panting, she forced herself to move, pulling herself up over the eaves and onto the roof. Below her the gunfire cleared. When she peered down into the darkness, no one was there. The alley was empty.

Her fingers locked on Dakota’s car keys, shoved deep in her pocket. She didn’t have a clue who these people were, or how they knew her name, or why they had mentioned her father.

Currently, she had half a dozen art projects in the process of restoration, but none of them was exceptionally valuable. Private dealers all over the city had more valuable art in their back rooms awaiting sale. So she didn’t think the attack was for simple theft.

She sprinted down the opposite fire escape to Dakota’s black Explorer and jammed in the key, relieved when the big motor growled to life.

They had mentioned her father. This had to involve him.

The thought left her sick at heart. In his criminal career Jordan MacInnes had made dozens of resolute, life-and-death friends. Unfortunately, he’d made just as many enemies, competitors with no scruples and very long memories. Had one of them targeted him now?

Nell checked the street, but there was no sign of Dakota or her attackers. As she drove slowly north, she passed two police cruisers with sirens flashing headed the way she’d just come. She briefly considered pulling over and flagging them down.

And tell them what? My father, who happens to be an ex-con, may be in some kind of trouble and I may be a target, too.

Yeah, like that would work.

Especially since any hint of contact with other criminals would send her father right back to prison for parole violation.

As a compromise, Nell placed a shaky 911 call to report a wounded homeless man in the alley. After leaving the exact address, she hung up before they could ask for her name or number. They might be able to trace her cell phone, but it was a risk she had to take for her friend’s sake.

Driving through the dark streets, Nell fought a wave of exhaustion. She didn’t feel safe, even at the door to her apartment, where she stood frozen, listening for any sign of intruders. But there was no sound except the low whir of her refrigerator. Her locks had not been touched.

Was she really safe?

The past hour was a blur, and she gave up trying to process it. Instead she dropped her purse and jacket and headed for the bathroom. The sight of her face in the mirror stopped her cold. She had the beginning of a black eye, cuts on both arms, and a long welt down her right cheek. Her condition would have been far worse if the SEAL hadn’t appeared out of the darkness to protect her. Nell still couldn’t figure out how he’d found her—or why. Only one person would have that answer.

Her hands were shaking as she dialed her father. After six unsuccessful tries, she tossed the phone down on her bed. Nothing made sense.

Her clock read 3:04 a.m.

Impossible to believe that in sixty-eight minutes her life had collapsed in on itself like a black hole, dropping her straight into a nightmare.

Meanwhile, she had cuts to attend to. Quickly, she bandaged her arms, then washed her face. One of the bullets had grazed her calf, and she cleaned that next. She’d had enough falls while climbing that the shallow wound didn’t panic her.

Finally done, she looked around her silent apartment, trying to plan her next move. The logical choice was to find her father and pray that he had a solid explanation. If not, she would have to go to the police.

Cool air drifted across her face. Out of the corner of her eye Nell saw the curtains drift out above her kitchen window. She swung around so fast that she dropped a box of bandages.

A shadow crossed the kitchen.

Dakota was back, and he looked mad as hell.

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