could only pray not.
‘Empty the vault.’ The demand held a guttural quality, and she saw Glen lift his hands in a helpless gesture.
‘I don’t know the combination.’
He was buying time, and the intruder knew it.
‘You think I’m a fool?’ the intruder demanded viciously, tightening his hold on Cassandra’s shoulders. ‘Open it now, or I’ll use this knife.’
She felt the tip of it slide across the base of her throat, the sting of her flesh accompanied by the warm trickle of blood.
Glen didn’t hesitate. He crossed to the vault, keyed in a series of digits, then pulled open the door.
‘Put everything into a bag. Go!’
Glen complied, moving as slowly as he dared.
‘You want me to hurt her bad?’
The knife pressed hard, and Cassandra gasped at the pain.
‘I’m being as quick as I can.’ And he was, withdrawing trays, tossing the contents into a bag. ‘That’s all of it.’
‘Give it to me!’ He released her, and backed towards the workshop door.
She saw what he could not, and she deliberately kept her expression blank as two armed security guards positioned themselves each side of the outer door.
One well-aimed kick, the element of surprise, that was all it would take to disarm the intruder and provide the essential few seconds’ confusion to give the guards their opportunity to burst in and take him down.
She went into calculated action, so fast it was over in seconds as her foot connected with his wrist and the gun went flying.
A stream of obscenities rent the air as he lunged for her, and she barely registered the door crashing open, or the security guards’ presence as he swung her in against him.
Oh, God. The pressure against her ribs was excruciating, and she had difficulty breathing.
Sally began to cry quietly.
‘Let her go.’ One of the security guards made it a statement, not a plea, and earned a scathing glare.
‘Are you crazy? She’s going to be my ticket out of here!’
‘Put down the knife.’
‘Not in this lifetime, pal.’ His snarl was low, primal, and frightening.
What began as a robbery had now become a hostage situation.
Then Cassandra heard it…the distant sound of a siren, the noise increasing in velocity, followed by the diminishing sonorous wail as the engine cut.
Seconds later the phone rang.
‘Pick it up!’
The guard’s movements were careful as he obeyed, listened, spoke, then he held out the receiver to her captor. ‘It’s for you.’
‘Tell the man I want clear passage out of here and a fifteen-minute start. That’s the deal.’
They wouldn’t buy it. At least, not without resorting to any one of several psychological ploys in an attempt at negotiation.
The scene was too close to a movie script. Worse, the man holding her was desperate and wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her.
Did your life flash before your eyes in a moment of extreme crisis? Cassandra pictured her mother, father. Cameron was there. Diego. Oh, hell, why Diego?
She didn’t have a future with Diego. Dammit, she might not have a future at all!
‘I want all of you out. Now!’ He was incandescent with rage, and she consciously held her breath.
The guards, Sally and Glen filed out quietly, the door closed, leaving only Cassandra and the madman in the workshop.
‘We’re going to take a ride together, you and me.’ His voice was close to her ear. ‘If you’re very good, I just might let you go when we’ve put in some distance from here.’
Sure. And the sun shone bright at midnight in the Alaskan winter-time.
His hand closed over her breast, and squeezed. ‘Or maybe you and me could shack up together awhile, have some fun.’
‘In your dreams.’
He pinched her, hard, then thrust her roughly against a work-bench. ‘Pick up that damned phone, and tell those bastards to get their act together.’
She could hardly believe they’d let him walk out of here alone. The gems in the vault were worth a small fortune. And there was the matter of her life.
Her hand stung, and she saw blood seeping from a deep cut as she lifted the receiver.
‘Stay calm. Do what he says. We’ve set up road blocks. He can’t get far.’ The masculine voice was quiet, steady. As if he controlled a hostage situation on a weekly basis. Maybe he did, she thought wildly.
‘They make a wrong move, and you’re history, y’hear?’
What happened next was a nightmare of action, noise, fear in a kaleidoscope of motion as she was forced to carry the bag of gems, then used as a human shield as her captor hustled her towards his waiting car.
Would they try to take him out? Shoot, or hold their fire?
In those few terrifying seconds out in the open she consciously prepared herself for anything, and it wasn’t until he shoved her across the driver’s seat and climbed in almost on top of her that she realised he was about to make good his escape.
Taking her with him.
He fired the ignition and surged forward, wheels screeching as he took off at a frightening speed.
Cassandra automatically reached for the dashboard, not that it afforded her any purchase, and heard his maniacal laughter as he swerved in and out of traffic, then he took a hard turn left, only to scream with rage as he saw the road block up front.
She barely had a second to gauge his next move when he swung the car round and roared back down the road to crash through a hastily set-up road block.
The car bounced off another vehicle with a sickening thud of grinding metal before careening off down the road. Car horns blasted, brakes screamed.
Cassandra saw impending disaster a few seconds ahead of contact, and she acted entirely on impulse, throwing open the passenger door and leaping out an instant before the car hit.
There was a moment of searing pain as her body hit the asphalt, a conscious feeling of movement, then nothing.
Cassandra was dreaming. Her body felt strangely weightless, and at some stage she seemed to drift towards consciousness, only to retreat into a non-intrusive comfort zone.
There
