Page 26 of No Lies No Promises

As I imagine my hands around his neck, twisting, Lillian rises. “Show me the hot tub?”

The slimeball chuckles. “Well, here’s a better idea. Why don’t we try it out?”

Oh, hell to the over my dead body. As I march to the security desk on the main floor, they walk across the living room into a long hallway lined with tasteful black-and-white photographs of Manhattan.

At the end, he opens a door. “Ladies first.”

Something in his tone is wrong. Very wrong.

Every muscle in my body tightens as she climbs the stairs.

Don’t go up there, babe.

Boom! The video goes dark.

A half second later, the whole building shudders. Screams erupt from everywhere. People fly past me and spill into the street, all of them pointing up.

No. No. No. Thankful I wore sneakers, I sprint toward the bank of elevators. All the damn cars are descending.

This is not happening.

How high is this building? Thirty stories? Forty? Inhaling a deep breath, I race up the stairs, taking them two at a time. As the hole in my leg burns, stitches pop, pulling under the stretch denim.

“Move!” Shoving through the crowd, not bothering to slow as I climb, I hit the upper floors. My clothes are soaked through, perspiration mixing with the cold, brown sprinkler water.

When I finally arrive at the door marked PRIVATE, smoke pours out from beneath. The metal handle is so hot, it burns my palms. Only a fool would open it.

Jesus. My mind spirals as I yank out my phone and call Dante. “The fucking penthouse blew up with Lillian inside.”

My boss pauses for a beat. “Sean? Back up. Where are you?”

There’s no time. “Lower Manhattan. Pearson was showing her a condo. I need eyes, now.”

Before he can answer, the wop-wop-wop of helicopter blades slices through the hiss of burning wood.

How the hell did Dante get air support here this fast?

“Is your bird here already?” I know it can’t be, but reality isn’t my strong suit right now.

At the same second, a grainy image flickers onto my screen. In it, the snake leans over Lillian, lips pursed.

“ARGH!” My fist slams into the stupid door.

Lillian. Are you there? Jesus, say something.

While my knuckles bleed, Dante talks me down. “Where are you, my brother?”

“I’m in the stairwell. That motherfucker’s helo is overhead. He’s moving her. Can you track it?” My heart thumps so loud, it drowns out the rotors. Images of how I almost lost her in Mexico flood my memories. I can’t go through that again.

“Get out of there,” my friend shouts. “Now. The roof’s about to collapse. You’ll be no help to her dead.”

As the building groans, cracks appear in the wall, zigzagging below me.

I’ve got seconds.

“Fuck me!” Turning, I scramble down the hundreds of steps, meeting firefighters halfway.

“Stop. Top floor. About to crumble.” Hands on my now-bloody thigh, I pant between breaths.