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Facing her, nearly standing on top of her, was Evan Winston. The hired killer. She’d never looked at the guy carefully yesterday, mostly as a defense tactic, but today, after studying the photo on Will’s cell earlier, she recognized his features instantly. She stiffened, and a stab of cold nailed her to the spot.
Will had called this guy a bad actor, a mercenary, a hired killer. With his muscled body he definitely looked the part.
Before she could move—or even speak—he tugged her in the opposite direction of the restaurant, past a crowd of women guests and around a corner into an empty alcove. A couple of house phones rested on a shelf with cushioned chairs in front. The stalker steered her past these and into the corner, and then took up a position blocking her escape.
“We need to talk.” He crossed his arms.
Even with her stomach jittering around, Gwen somehow found a calm voice. “Please step aside and let me leave.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his voice low and full of threat. He braced his feet on either side of the narrow space and reached under his jacket.
She stared at the small black and chrome automatic clutched confidently in a hand covered in scars. A recent cut on one knuckle glowed red. Her pulse escalated, and her throat grew parched. Another chill stalked her spine.
Low female voices, probably women on their way to the restroom, barely filtered to her even though they would be passing less then fifteen feet away. This alcove appeared to be used very little. She’d be extremely lucky to have anyone interrupt. If she screamed, someone would hear her, but the mercenary might do something ugly and painful.
Will had been in the military. He’d know how to handle a man with a gun, but not the tourists staying in the hotel. Should she stall Evan long enough for Will or his FBI friend to come looking?
“Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am,” Evan said.
Should she pretend not to know? What point was there in that? “You’re Evan Winston.”
“Yeah. Sometimes I use that name.” He narrowed his gaze at her and raised his gun, leering. Or was that his version of a smile?
She needed to steer him out of here and toward the restaurant where her companions could see her with him. She started to gesture before stopping. “Could you step back and give me a little more room?”
“Flattered you remember me,” he continued, ignoring her request.
“I was busy but yes, I remember you from the seminar my boss gave last month. Now that you look the same.” Was this her speaking so calmly? “Why wear a black wig yesterday?”
“It made a good disguise. Didn’t you think?”
The wig had proved effective, but Gwen didn’t intend to give him the satisfaction of a reply.
He extended his free hand. “Let me have your bag.”
Had she inadvertently clutched her bag? She allowed the straps to slip off her shoulder. Impatient, he yanked the bag free of her hands and swung it into the chair behind him. He tapped the muzzle of the gun against her cheek. “I want the virus.”
She suppressed her reaction. Come look for me, Will. Please.
Winston jerked his chin toward the chair where he’d dumped her bag. “Is it in there?”
“No.” This man had no idea what he was talking about. “It’s too dangerous to carry around unsecured. Viruses are microscopic organisms.” She slid her gaze to his. This was serious and she had to make him believe her. Everyone she worked with knew their lab was under lock and key because of the highly infectious nature of the virus.
“I don’t carry it around. The X-13 virus has no known antidote. There are special protocols for transporting it anywhere outside of the laboratory.”
“But you work there. You’re in charge now.”
“How do you know?” This information hadn’t been made public.
“It’s my job to keep up with these things.” He raised a dark eyebrow. “If your boss had agreed to play ball with us, we wouldn’t even be bothering you.”
“I don’t believe that.” Her boss would have told her, especially if he thought she might be endangered. But he’d said nothing. She glanced at Winston’s gun and swallowed hard. He’d probably intended to hit on her all along in hopes she’d be easier to convince.
“Believe whatever you want, but I’m not going away. Not until you give me the virus.”
She said nothing, but the chill inside seeped into her bones.
“To sweeten the deal, you’ll be paid for your help, enough to make your student loans go away.”
