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“Thank you.” Relief raced through her.
“I’ll go arrange things with security so the others can go as well,” he told her as he moved away from her, taking the sense of warmth that wrapped around her whenever he was near.
Turning, she moved to the windows and gazed at the darkness surrounding the hotel.
Rubbing at her upper arms to dispel the chill racing up them, she eased back from the window, suddenly wishing Stygian were still there.
The windows were bullet and laser resistant, the room itself highly secured.
Yet Gideon Cross had managed to bug Jonas Wyatt’s room, which she was certain was even more secure.
There was something not quite right, though, something out of place, out of sync.
Tilting her head, she stared out into the darkness, wondering what was missing, or what was added.
Something wasn’t right—
As the thought raced through her mind, a blinding flare of light suddenly flashed through the room. The resulting explosion seemed to rock the entire hotel.
Liza went to the floor, rolling, instinct and her photographic memory of the location of each piece of furniture flashing through her mind as she scrambled behind the sofa.
Shards of glass scattered around her as though World War III had erupted in the Navajo Suites. Flashing a brilliant red and yellow, the emergency lights sent a kaleidoscope of color racing through the room as Liza came to a crouch and quickly peeked around the couch.
Three dark-clad, masked figures were moving through the room. Two to the bedroom, while one began tossing furniture aside, throwing it out of his way. The electronic black shield covering his face gave him an automaton look, while the scrolling red ribbon of the auto-detection technology glinted at the top of the shield.
Shit!
Flipping behind the furniture before his head turned her way, Liza drew in a hard breath. She had only seconds to find a place to hide, or to reach the door.
The inner security lock had engaged when Stygian went out. It would take precious time to slide it aside—time she didn’t have.
Hurriedly moving to the opposite side of the couch, Liza dived behind the heavy chair that had already been thrown aside within a heartbeat of the couch bouncing against it.
The opened door to the connecting suite was just ahead of her, two figures racing from the room.
“She’s not there,” one rasped.
“She’s here. We tracked her before the window went in. Find her, d
amn it. There wasn’t enough time to get through the door.”
“Bright fucking idea blowing the lights,” another snapped.
The other didn’t speak.
Where was he?
Liza stared around her, heart racing, terrified to make the move to sprint for the connecting door and the exit leading into the hallway.
With her hands planted against the floor, her body ready to vault across the distance, she considered her chances—
The chair went flying.
Screaming out Stygian’s name, Liza sprinted for the connecting door as hard hands gripped her arm and a growl echoed through her senses.
Turning in the grip and kicking her leg out to connect with her assailant’s knee, she was gripped with rage. The heavy padding over the vulnerable area minimized the force of the blow, bringing no more than a guttural grunt as his grip tightened.
As he brought his other arm up to grab her neck, his fingers only brushed her flesh before she knocked them away, twisted again and dropped, screaming at the wrench in her arm a second before he released her.
