The Hero's Son. Amanda Stevens
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hurried to the side of the building and looked over. The wall was smooth and sheer, five stories to the ground. There had to be a fire escape around here somewhere, she thought. Another warehouse backed up against this one, and an eight-foot gulf separated the two roofs. For a moment, Valerie contemplated jumping across, but even though she’d never been afraid of heights, the gap looked wider by the moment.
She turned and started toward the other side just as the roof door opened. The opening lay in shadow, but she saw the gunman standing in the doorway. She couldn’t see his face, but she saw him lift his hand as he spotted her.
Valerie heard a soft, spitting sound as a silenced bullet whizzed by her ear like a bee. She turned and charged back to the edge of the roof. There was no other way, no time to warn herself she might not be able to make it. She caught her breath, and before she had time to think, she was flying through space as the wall of the second building rushed to meet her.
If she hadn’t panicked at the last second, she would have cleared the space with room to spare. As it was, she began to reach for a handhold before she’d made it across. Her momentum slowed, and Valerie grabbed desperately for the edge of the roof.
And missed.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE IMPACT JARRED her body as she slammed into the wall. She screamed and closed her eyes as her arms flailed wildly for purchase.
Then, miraculously, someone grabbed her. A hand closed around one of her wrists like a vise, and Valerie dangled in midair. Her head spun dizzily as she heard a familiar voice say, “Don’t look down. I’ve got you.”
Valerie looked up. She couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but she knew who he was. Brant Colter had saved her life.
Or had he? How much longer would he hold on to her?
With her other arm, Valerie reached out and grabbed a drainpipe.
“Let go,” Brant said. “I’ll pull you up.”
Let go? Not in this lifetime. Valerie closed her eyes, willing her strength. Her arms were on fire. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hang on much longer. In fact, if it weren’t for Brant’s grip on her wrist, she might already have plunged to her death.
But still, something wouldn’t let her release the drainpipe. Something wouldn’t let her trust Brant Colter.
“We can’t stay out here like this all night,” he said impatiently. “In case you hadn’t noticed, someone was shooting at you a minute ago.”
“Was it you?” Valerie gasped.
“Yeah, that makes sense.” His breath was beginning to tell from the strain. “I shoot at you one minute, and the next, I’m trying to keep you from falling off a roof. Now, turn loose before we both hit the pavement.”
In spite of herself, Valerie glanced down. She couldn’t help herself. The ground seemed a million miles away. “How do I know you won’t drop me?” she asked desperately.
“I guess you’ll just have to trust me, won’t you?”
Valerie’s fingers slipped on the drainpipe. She was hanging on by hardly more than her imagination. “I’m falling,” she whispered. “Oh, God—”
Just as her fingers slid from the pipe, Brant grabbed her other wrist, gave a mighty heave, and pulled her to safety. Valerie scrambled over the edge of the building and collapsed, panting from exertion and terror.
“Come on,” Brant said, tugging her to her feet. “It’s not a good idea for us to stay out here in the open.”
“I don’t hear any gunshots,” Valerie said weakly, allowing herself to be pulled up and along the roof toward the opposite side. “Maybe he gave up and left.”
“Maybe,” Brant said, but he didn’t sound too confident. “There should be a fire escape around here somewhere. Let’s find it before he does.”
“Who’s ‘he’?”
There was a slight hesitation before Brant said, “I was hoping you could tell me.”
“You’re the cop. I’m just a reporter.” A very frightened reporter.
“You don’t have any idea who might want you dead?”
“I’ve already told you what I think,” Valerie said. Brant located the fire escape and started over the side of the building, but her words stopped him. A break in the clouds allowed enough moonlight to filter through so that she could see his face. His eyes.
She shivered.
“I can assure you it wasn’t my father chasing you over that roof. He can hardly walk across a room without a cane these days.”
“Yes, but as I pointed out yesterday,” Valerie replied, trying to ignore the coldness in his dark gaze, “he wouldn’t have to do it himself, would he? Your father must have a lot of contacts, on both sides of the law.”
She could sense his anger in the darkness. It was almost a tangible thing, and yet there was another emotion that was perhaps even stronger. Valerie would almost have named it doubt—or even fear—if she didn’t know better. “We obviously aren’t going to come to any agreement on this subject tonight, so why don’t we concentrate on getting out of here in one piece? Agreed?”
Valerie took a deep breath. “Agreed.”
He extended his hand. “Come on, then.”
Reluctantly, she reached out and took his hand. At the very moment her fingers touched his, a clap of thunder rolled across the heavens as the storm neared downtown. Valerie jumped back, as if she’d been burned.
“It was just thunder,” Brant said, obviously mistaking her reaction for fear.
“I—I’m glad it wasn’t a gunshot,” Valerie muttered. She ignored Brant’s offer of help and grabbed the ladder, stepping cautiously onto the first rung. The metal stair was fastened directly into the brick wall and looked as old as the building itself. Valerie fervently hoped the fasteners would hold. It had probably been years since the ladder had taken any weight.
The metal creaked and moaned as they descended. Valerie was very aware of Brant, going down the steps in front of her. If he looked up, he would have an unobstructed view of her legs. For some reason, the thought made shivers run up and down her spine.
When they neared the ground, Brant jumped from the ladder, then placed his hands around her waist and lifted her down, holding her for a fraction longer than was necessary. Valerie turned in his arms and looked up at him.
A flash of lightning illuminated his face briefly, so that Valerie could see the distinct angles and planes of his features, the tiny cleft in his chin, the darkness of his eyes. She’d seen that face in her nightmares for more than thirty years, but it had never frightened her more than it did at this moment.
She had the wildest notion that he was going to try and kiss her, and wondered what she would do if he did. Push him away? She wanted to believe that she would, but at the moment, that didn’t seem a likely prospect. Not with her heart pounding away inside her. Not with her skin tingling in awareness where he touched her.
“We shouldn’t be here like this,” he said softly. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I know.” Her teeth chattered in spite of the heat. He wasn’t talking about the gunman, and they both knew it. But he took her arm anyway, and pulled her into the deeper shadows of the building. As quietly as they could, they made their way around to the street.
“Where do you think Harry is?” Valerie whispered.
Brant shrugged. “Harry Blackman can take care of himself. Right now, we have to get you out of here.”
“How do you know Harry?” she asked in surprise.
“I