Laney’s hand grabbed his and yanked. “Run!” He caught a split-second look at Bennett’s face, fury and calculation mingling, the gun hand coming up, and then the pull of Laney’s momentum snapped him into motion. He started after her into the maelstrom, people shoving and shouting. Laney’s slim frame was no match for the chaos. He shook his hand free of hers and took the lead, lowering his shoulder and tightening his arm, bull-rushing a hole for them, adrenaline and panic powering their flight.

But even as he ran, his mind was racing faster. What the hell is going on?

5

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Bennett spun on his heel, took in the scene, mob mentality at its worst. Most people were trying to escape, but some would be coming this way, wannabe heroes and security guards, maybe even cops. Laney and Daniel took off, and instinct brought his pistol up, tracking their retreating backs. Ten feet, child’s play. One shot, two shot, red shot, blue shot.

Only morons play a losing hand. Killing them wouldn’t get him paid. But it might get him caught. He tucked the gun away. Laney and Daniel disappeared into the crowd, bobbing heads in a sea of frightened humanity.

You’ve gotten smarter, little girl. You’re not the wide-eyed kid I remember.

He turned and sprinted down the maintenance hallway.

5

They’d fought their way to the edge of the market, one of the gates in sight, the river of people now moving mostly in one direction. A woman fell, and Daniel bent to haul her to her feet before she was trampled. A man behind him shoved past, his knee connecting with Daniel’s shoulder as he rose, almost sending him tumbling. Daniel shoved him, then fought forward.

“This way!” Laney slid past, quicksilvering through the crowd. He followed, and then they were through the gate and into the western parking lot, a lane of cars backing onto Fairfax.

Laney turned to make sure he’d made it. The neck of her shirt was torn, and she’d lost the ball cap. She still held the gun in one hand, like she’d forgotten it was there.

“Put that away,” he said, and she looked startled, then hid it under her shirt.

“Let’s go.” She turned toward the north lot.

He grabbed her arm. “No. This way.”

“What? Why?”

“Just trust me.”

For a moment he thought she would argue, but she nodded again. They ran south, away from their cars, the space opening as people spread out. Hit Third at a sprint, the street a mess, cars spun the wrong direction, a collision in the center lane, running people scrambling over hoods and between bumpers, horns screaming. They darted across, came to a black wrought iron fence on the other side. “Come on,” he said, and cupped his hands for her. She stepped into them, grabbed the top, then jumped over. He followed, the metal digging into his stomach as he balanced and dropped.

They were in a huge apartment complex. It seemed strangely familiar, tall towers surrounded by town houses, the whole thing landscaped and organized. Curious children stared from the playground at the corner.

Laney was running again. The streets angled in spokes from the towers, every intersection looking the same, but she seemed to know her way, and he followed, panting now, his shoulder throbbing where he’d been kicked. After they had gone maybe half a mile, Laney slowed to a jog, then a walk. She didn’t even seem to be breathing hard. “I left my car back there,” she said.

“I know,” gasp, “me too.”

“So why did we come this way?”

He stopped, laced his fingers over his head. “Bennett wasn’t in the spotlight anymore.”

Laney narrowed her eyes. “He went for our cars.”

“That’s what a smart bad guy would do.”

She stepped forward, put her hands on his cheek. “That’s my brilliant writer husband.” Then she kissed him, and everything else—the horns in the distance, the police sirens drawing closer, the crack of gunfire, the sun in the sky, and the ground below—went away.

A long moment later, when he could breathe again, he said, “I’m so glad you’re not dead.”

“Me too. You, I mean. I thought Bennett— When I couldn’t find you, I thought maybe he had.”

Daniel shook his head. “No. I wasn’t in L.A.”

“Huh? Where were you?”

“That’s . . . a long story.” He was about to explain when a thought struck him. “Oh, shit.” He dug for his disposable cell phone. “Sophie.”

Laney’s eyes widened. “You think—”

“I’ve got to warn her.” He powered up the phone. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Her number. I don’t have it.”

“You don’t have—” She gave him a strange look. “You’ve been friends for fifteen years.”

“It’s complicated. I’ll explain later.” It was on his laptop, but that was in the BMW. Four-one-one, maybe? But Sophie was a high-powered entertainment lawyer. Her home number would be unlisted. Well, maybe they could call a cab, race over there, hope to beat him. Or better yet, call the police—

“310-274-6611,” Laney said, reading the number off her own cell phone.

Daniel looked up. Felt a lightness run through him. Such a little thing, her having the answer to a question, but somehow it was almost as good as finding out she was alive. He wasn’t alone anymore. He had a partner.

Sophie answered on the third ring. “Yes?”

“It’s me, you have to—”

“Are you okay? I don’t have anything new from Jen yet—”

“Sophie, listen to me. You have to get out of there.”

“What?”

“You have to get out of your house. He’s on his way over.”

“Who is?”

“Bennett. The guy who broke in before. He’s coming to your house right now.”

“What?”

“There’s no time. You have to get out right now. Go somewhere safe, a friend, or a hotel. Don’t go into work, he’ll look for you there.”

“You’re serious?”

“I swear.”

The sound that came over the line was almost a whimper. It was the last thing he wanted to hear from this woman, this strong, capable woman. “Listen, you don’t have a lot of time, but you should have enough. He’s coming from the Farmers Market, it will take him a little while. But seriously, right now, get going.” Silence. “Sophie!”

“What?”

“You can’t freeze up right now—”

“Who froze? I’m packing.”

He smiled. “That’s my girl. Don’t bother with much. Just grab your purse and get the hell out.”