Page 77 of Live a Little!

She sobbed with frustration and tried again. Failedagain.

“FBI! Freeze!” Even through the thick fire door, she recognized thevoice.

“Jake!” she cried, shuddering with relief. He was here. He’d rescue her. Everything would be allright.

Gunfireexploded.

Seconds later the alarm wassilenced.

“Oh, my God. Jake. No.” He wouldn’t have turned off the alarm; he wanted the authorities to investigate. Neville must have turned it off. Which meant Jake could be bleeding, hurt, needing her. She took a deep breath and jackknifed forward once more, gritting her teeth with the effort. She hooked her toes under the table and with every muscle in her body screaming, managed to pull the table inch by agonizing inch towardher.

Gasping, she reached forward, and this time was able to grasp her Pacific Northwest Accounting Association key ring. With no time to worry about whether the rattling would alert Eddie, she grabbed hold of the little silver key and inserted it into thelock.

Her hands were shaking and sweaty, so she fumbled and the key wouldn’t turn.Please, please,she whispered urgently, almost sobbing with nerves. Jake needed her. She had to get tohim.

Frantically, she turned the key left and right with her trembling fingers. Just when she was certain the key wouldn’t fit, she heard the click as the lock gave. She thought that metallic click was the most wonderful sound she’d everheard.

She pulled her arm free and ran forward, glancing into the bathroom to see Eddie sprawled on the floor, passed out. She hesitated only a second. Jake, too, could be lying on the floor, bleeding. It was no contest as to whom she’d tendfirst.

As she raced for the door, she noticed an open toolbox beside one of the hydraulic lifts. Thinking she might need a weapon, she grabbed a wrench, then paused. Eddie had a gun; she could go back and take it from him. Then she remembered she didn’t even know how to use agun.

Against the arsenal out front, a wrench wasn’t much, but it felt reassuringly heavy in herhand.

She opened the door just wide enough to squeeze through. All the lights had been turned off in the main office; there was only the dim illumination from the emergency lights to guide her. She crept down the corridor, eyes adjusting, ears superalert. She heard nothing but the low hum of the building’s heating system and her own shoes scuffing thecarpet.

She rounded the corner and heard voices. “This is the last time I’m asking. Where is she, you son of a bitch?” It was Jake’s voice, angry and menacing and very, very alive. Her heart pounded and her knees sagged. He was all right. Jake was all right. They were going to get out of here. She’d be able to tell him she loved him, afterall.

She sped down the corridor and stopped. There he was, healthy and commanding, his big, scary black gun pointing at Ormond’sprivates.

The big man cowered. “Who?”

Both men were in profile to her and she saw Ormond’s eyes move. He had to be looking for Neville. WherewasNeville?

As she opened her mouth to warn Jake, Ormond said, “She’s—”

“She’s dead.” Neville rose just behind Jake, his own gun now trained on Jake’sback.

“No.” Jake said the word softly. Then he roared, “No!”

“I’m afraid you’re too late, oldboy.”

But Jake didn’t seem to take it in. His face was suddenly ashen, his eyes lifeless. “Not…not Cynthia.” His voice sounded hoarse andold.

“Don’t worry, lover boy. You’ll be joining her shortly.” Neville laughed, a wry chuckle. “She had me fooled. I thought she was working with Harrison, when all the time she was a plant for the FBI. Veryconvenient.”

Jake shook his head, as though a bee were buzzing around his ear. He seemed to pull himself together, stashing the raw pain she’d witnessed behind the granite mask. “Drop the gun and place your hands on top of your head,” he orderedNeville.

“I don’t thinkso.”

Jake jerked his head toward Ormond. “Then your friend here’ll be singingsoprano.”

“Nev, for Chrissakes, man.” Ormond’s voice rang out in horror. With his hands on top of his head, she saw him try and cross his legs to protecthimself.

“That’s right.” Neville went on as though Ormond hadn’t spoken. “You shoot him, and I shoot you. Then I’ll make it look as though Ormond here killed an FBI agent as well as engaging in smuggling, right under my innocent nose. I’ll be very upset, of course, and will cooperate fully with the FBI. I must remember to order a new suit from my tailor. Something I can wear to both yourfunerals.”

Do something, Jake,Cynthia urged him silently.Say something.But he didn’t seem able to concentrate. “Tell me what you did to Cynthia,” he said atlast.

And in that moment she knew he loved her. So much he couldn’t think straight even with his own life in terrible danger. Tears filled hereyes.

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