loved Ben’s old team: Barker, the big African-American Texan who always smiled; Hanning, who looked like a male model in his designer clothes; Franklin, so ordinary in appearance that she had almost overlooked him, until she got to know him and found out his heart was large.
Doug dragged her to the closet and closed the partition door so they were shrouded in darkness. He pulled on her arm and tried to get her to move deeper into the closet, but she shrugged him off.
“Sabine,” he hissed.
Nose to the wood, she studied the suite through the slim gap in the door. “They’re here.”
Christophe Parelli sauntered in and tossed his sunglasses on the bed. A woman followed him, wearing a red dress similar to Sabine’s. She, too, had long, dark hair. In fact, the resemblance was so striking that Sabine sucked in a breath through her nose.
The woman moved to the fridge in the corner and pulled out a glass bottle of amber liquid. She took her time pouring two drinks and then handed one to Christophe. With the limited view Sabine had, she couldn’t make out the woman’s features. Her bearing was familiar, but Sabine couldn’t place where she’d seen her before.
Doug touched Sabine’s shoulder. She took another deep breath and expelled it, low and slow. As soon as the woman and Parelli left, then Doug and Sabine would be able to get out of there.
Christophe held up his glass. “A toast, to a beautiful relationship.”
“Yes.” The woman took a sip of her drink, while she watched Christophe swallow his. “Too bad it cannot continue.”
Christophe jerked. The glass fell. It hit the carpet with a dull thud. His hand grasped his throat. “What did you do?” His voice was raspy.
Though the woman laughed, there was no humor in the sound. “You didn’t think I could let you live, did you? So naive. You, my dear, are a liability, and liabilities must be eradicated.”
“But—”
Christophe dropped to his knees, wheezing. Doug pulled on her arm as he tried again to draw her away from the horrific scene, but she held fast. Something about the woman would help identify her. Anything was better than admitting Sabine was seeing someone take their last breath. Again.
Doug’s hand slid from her elbow, and he stilled her fingers with his.
The woman sighed. “I know it pains you to hear it. But you are one small part, an insignificant part that I cannot allow to remain free. So goodbye, my dear. It really was a pleasure.”
Christophe collapsed to the floor. Sabine could barely see his chest move. The woman strode from the room, leaving the door wide open.
“She’s gone.”
Doug opened the closet door. “Copy that, California. Ten minutes.”
Sabine forced her gaze away from the dead man. “What?”
“Rendezvous. Let’s go.”
She didn’t move. The woman who had killed Christophe had probably used some kind of fast-acting poison that closed the airways and stopped the heart. Easy enough to get, and who cared if it showed up in an autopsy? The guy wasn’t any less dead.
Her red dress had been too much like Sabine’s. And that wasn’t the only similarity. There was only one logical conclusion.
“I killed him.”
“That woman. She was... It was supposed to look like I did it. Multiple people saw Christophe and me talking at the bar in that restaurant. People would have seen that woman come up here with him. We have the same build. The same long, dark hair. The same red dress.” Sabine blinked. “Who knew I’d be here?”
Understanding washed over his features. “We still have to go. More so if you’re going to be the number one suspect.”
Her breath came faster and faster, and she pressed her fists to the sides of her face. She was going to be framed for this. Sabine stumbled back; her ankle rolled. She hit the floor and cried out.
Doug hauled her to her feet. “We have to go.”
“Please.” She didn’t know what she was asking for.
“You want to stay here with the dead guy?” He half held, half carried her down the hall. “We need to get gone.”
Her brain spun until she was hardly able to string two thoughts together. She saw her handler, Neil, at the park under a Saturday-morning sun briefing her on the mission. “She made it look like I killed him.”
Doug glanced at her, still pulling her along. “Sabine.” His voice was a warning.
She forced away the pain in her ankle to keep up with him. Behind them there was a shout, followed by the rush of feet. Sabine looked back as two men in suits broke into a run.
“Time to go,” Doug said.
They sprinted for the exit. Adrenaline pulsed through her. It cleared her mind. Sabine found her own steam and pulled away from him. Doug grabbed her hand again as they closed the distance to the stairwell; he punched open the door and pulled her up instead of down.
“What are you doing? We should go to the lobby. The exit.”
He didn’t slow, just took each flight of stairs at a punishing pace. Every step shot fire from her twisted ankle up her leg.
“Less talking. More running.”
A door slammed below. Dress shoes pounded up the stairwell. The echo bounced off the walls.
“We should split up,” she said.
Doug’s hand tightened on hers. They rounded the landing on the next floor and continued up. “California, get us out of here.”
Sweat ran down her back. Sabine pushed through the strain in her muscles and concentrated on each step. Behind them the two goons raced up the stairs.
“Copy that.” Doug yanked her arm and changed direction. Sabine hissed with the pain and trailed him through a door into a hallway where rooms stretched out before them on either side. Doug jerked her again, opened a door that said Maintenance and swept her inside.
The door clicked closed, and they were enveloped in darkness yet again. All she could hear was heavy breathing, though Doug didn’t seem to be nearly as winded as she was. It was barely a second before the stairwell door opened.
“Where’d they go?” The voice spoke in Italian.
Sabine held her breath. Christophe was Italian. These were probably the bodyguards Daddy had assigned to him.
A different voice replied, also in Italian. “You search this floor. I’ll take the stairs again. Call me if you find them.”
The two men dispersed.
