Her gaze paused on the light switch inside the warehouse section and she moved fast for it. She’d do a quick walk-through to see if the client was there but afterward she’d split.

She had almost reached it when total darkness closed in around her and the door slammed loudly at her back. She gasped and froze. Her eyes widened but she couldn’t see a thing. Goose bumps pricked her skin and she hoped she wouldn’t seriously have a heart attack.

Calm down! She forced herself to take a breath. The doors are probably weighted to close. Turn on the lights! Damn Amanda and her talk of serial killers.

She found the wall with her franticly seeking hands, brushed her fingertips along the smooth surface, and finally touched the switches. She flipped them on and prayed they’d work. A slight hum startled her but the room brightened as the lights flickered a few times rapidly but stayed on. Oh, thank God!

She turned her head to stare at the vast warehouse. It had to be fifty feet in height from the concrete floor to the metal ceiling beams. The previous owner had left big metal containers inside that blocked her view of large sections but she could see parts of the back wall to judge that it had to be a good six hundred feet long and probably five hundred feet wide. Lauren frowned as she looked at the four rusted hunks of junk—shipping containers similar to the ones she’d seen leaving the harbor on cargo ships.

Why didn’t the owner remove them? It looks bad for a sale. She really wasn’t familiar with the property. It was Brent Thort’s listing. She briefly wondered what Brent’s big emergency had been that made him duck out on Mr. Herbert. If the potential buyer asked about those containers she wouldn’t have an answer.

Is the owner going to have them removed under the contract or is the building selling as is with those massive babies? Damn. Lauren gripped her purse, ready to call her boss to ask, if she ever found the elusive buyer.

“Mr. Herbert!” She yelled for all she was worth.

Movement made her gasp. The man who stepped out from behind the container wore all black. Lauren’s heart hammered and she stiffened. Fear didn’t inch up her spine. It jolted lightning-quick from her heels to her brain.

He was dressed wrong to drive the fancy sports car outside. He definitely didn’t look like a Mr. Herbert. He was a big man and reminded her of a mix between a ninja, with the all-black clothing, and a soldier, with the bulky bulletproof vest. Black material encased everything on the man except his tan throat and head. Spiked black hair also gave her the impression that he was military but the dark sunglasses didn’t fit with the look. She couldn’t see his eyes at all.

He slowly stalked toward her, closing the distance while she stood there frozen. It gave her time to take in more details of the stranger. He had wide shoulders and his shirt stretched tightly over thick, bulky biceps. Her fear notched higher. That screamed “ex-convict” to her. She had a neighbor with arms nearly that size and he’d told her lifting weights had been the only thing to alleviate boredom while he’d served nine years for armed robbery.

Lauren swallowed hard. Her neighbor scared the crap out of her but this guy was ten times worse. Her gaze lowered to his black boots and she openly stared at them since her legs still refused to work. Definitely military. Her cousin was in the Marines and she’d seen him polish his boots a few months before while visiting an aunt. The kickass chunky boots were almost exactly the same as the ones she’d seen.

Whoever he was, she bet he wasn’t Mr. Herbert. She knew that but was hopeful to be wrong. She finally backed up and nearly tripped. She fought down a scream of terror. Her gaze had located the two guns holstered to his thighs, a sight she had missed until her brain began to function better.

A soft whimper escaped her parted lips. The man wore black cargo pants that had pockets running up both legs. He not only had guns but a long knife was strapped over one thigh as well. Her terrified gaze landed on his gloved hands. They were open at his sides and it reminded her of something out of an old western as they twitched, almost as if they were about to draw down on someone, gunslinger fashion.

“Are you Mr. Herbert?” She hated the crack she heard in her voice.

The man paused and cocked his head slightly. His mouth twisted into a tight line, giving the appearance of either anger or confusion. She wished he wasn’t wearing the glasses so she could see his eyes. His bone structure was pronounced—strong cheekbones, full lips and a masculine, square chin. She retreated another step while the silence stretched between them.

Something moved at the corner of her vision and she jerked her head in that direction. Another man stepped out from behind a second container. He was blond, tall, huge, and dressed just like the first guy. The rest of his looks didn’t register to Lauren. All she saw beyond the basics was the big weapon he gripped with both hands. It looked like a wicked mean shotgun.

Oh dear God. Lauren freaked out, totally lost her cool, and spun. She ran right into the doors and bounced back enough to nearly fall on her butt. Her fingers frantically grabbed at the bar that would open the door and gave it a mighty shove. The thing still didn’t open. She threw her shoulder against the door while pushing frantically on the bar again but it wouldn’t budge.

“No!” She kicked at the locked door and hurt her toes in the process but wasn’t willing to give up. Two terrifying men were behind her. “Open up. Damn you, open up!” she yelled but it wouldn’t let her through.

Her heart raced and she panted after she gave up. The doors weren’t going to let her pass and she was trapped. Her fingers released the bar and she slowly turned to face the two men who were probably sickos targeting real estate agents.

The men remained in the same positions and she glanced between the black-clad figures. The blond wore dark glasses too. He lowered the big gun to aim it more at the floor than at her. It was the only upside she could find.

Lauren remembered her purse dangling from her arm. Her gaze darted between the two men in absolute terror before she frantically searched for another door. She didn’t see one. Her hand slid down to her purse, brushed her car keys clipped there, and her brain began to work.

Panic button. I have one! Her thumb brushed the square pad and she pushed the button. In the distance, although muffled, her car alarm began to scream in rapid bursts. She swallowed hard. Maybe it will draw the attention of…no one. The area around the building is deserted. Damn it. Her hand inched toward the flap of her purse and her cell phone.

“Turn it off,” one of the men ordered in an unnaturally deep voice. “Now.”

Lauren gawked at the blond who’d spoken. He was holding the weapon near his hips but he could easily aim it at her again. She didn’t look at his face since the gun held her full attention. Is he going to shoot me? Are they rapists? Worse? Oh God! her mind screamed. Worse would be so bad.

Her car alarm suddenly silenced and shock tore through Lauren. She hadn’t moved her thumb to turn it off. Someone else had to have done it, which meant there were more of them. She pressed her back against the door, pushed with her weight and prayed that it would move. She wanted to flee in the worst way.

“Where is he?” the blond asked.

“Who?” She barely got the word out. Her throat felt closed off with her heart seeming to sit inside it.

The blond man shifted the gun, gripped it with one hand and slowly stepped forward. Her gaze lifted to his face, couldn’t miss his frown, or that he was coming right at her.

“Stay away from me.” Lauren’s voice grew stronger, louder. “Stop right there. I don’t know who you are but I want to leave.”