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  “But—”

  “Look, getting stuck in the elevator because they’ve cut the electricity doesn’t appeal much.”

  No. No, it didn’t.

  “Nor does the idea of the doors opening to surprise goons, if they somehow beat us up there. Come on.” He opened the stairwell door and looked back at her.

  She sighed, then entered. The first flight wasn’t so bad, and she began to think maybe she could do this without even breaking a sweat.

  Then halfway up the second flight, she began to huff and puff. Oddly enough, she remained cold, so cold she still shivered hard enough to rattle her teeth together.

  “Shh,” he murmured.

  Shh? Shh? She’d like to shh him! But then he went still, and she plowed into his back.

  He reached back to steady her, his arm wrapping around her hips. This action glued her to his side, which in turn left her feeling extremely clumsy, and yet…

  Utterly female.

  She couldn’t help it, pressed against him as hard as she was, inhaling his warm scent. Absorbing his body heat, she felt distinctly protected. Worried about.

  And for the first time all night, just a little bit heated. But even all the body heat in the world couldn’t fuel her engine. They kept moving.

  On the third-floor landing, she was breathing so hard, she thought she might die. On the fifth floor, she came to a gasping halt, knowing it. “Can’t.”

  “Only four more flights.”

  She would have laughed if she’d had the breath. Four more flights? She’d have better luck at Mt. Everest. “I definitely need…to get back to…those yoga classes.”

  He let out a soft laugh, and she felt his gaze run up her body. “I thought you were a model.”

  “Yes, but my metabolism is hereditary. I’m in terrible aerobic shape.”

  “You look like you do all right.”

  As before, her body tingled with an awareness that felt a little bit shocking given she was in the middle of the most terror-filled night of her life.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s do this.” And taking her hand, he tugged her up another flight.

  She did her best, but she was definitely lagging. He simply pulled her along, practically carrying her. “What’s up here?” he asked.

  “A penthouse suite.”

  “No, what’s up here that we can’t leave until we get it?”

  We.

  For so long she’d been an I, all alone in this. But he’d said we. He wasn’t going to abandon her, no matter what she deserved, and she put a hand to her pounding heart. She’d swear she could feel it trying to leap out of her chest. She couldn’t even answer. She could barely keep air in her lungs. Instead, she went to follow him as closely as she could, which since he still had a grip on her, was pretty damn close.

  “Bailey?”

  She had no idea what to say, so she said nothing.

  Finally, at the ninth floor just outside the penthouse door, he stopped.

  Pressed her back to the wall.

  Then held her there.

  Waiting.

  The only light came from the windows at either end of the hallway, where the snow’s glow lit up the black night with a bluish tint. Adding to the odd lighting, the hallway was lined in mirrors, and shadows cast from them, reflecting the fancy brass trim all around, and the look of concentration on Noah’s face.

  “Talk to me,” he demanded very quietly. “In ten seconds or less.”

  “I’m not exactly sure what I’m getting,” she admitted.

  He just looked at her.

  “Okay, it’s…complicated.”

  “No shit, Princess. Eight seconds.”

  She had to tell him something. “It’s not only complicated; it’s a long story. Much longer than eight seconds.”

  He didn’t look happy at that answer, but honestly, she didn’t know how to explain the situation quickly. Hell, she didn’t know how to explain the situation with all the time in the world. She had no idea exactly where to look, or even if the money was here. “I’m sorry, I—”

  Noah slid a hand to her mouth.

  And that was when she heard it.

  The ping of the elevators.

  Someone was in one of them, maybe several someones, coming up.

  Chapter 8

  Bailey felt as if she’d swallowed her tongue. Or maybe that was just her heart, which had landed in her throat.

  They were coming.

  The day had just been one long Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.

  Still holding her immobile and silent, Noah flicked his light over the penthouse door and found the keypad. Reaching out, he hit 6–9-6–9.

  The door clicked open.

  “At least he was consistent,” he murmured, and pulled her inside. “Listen to me,” he instructed over his shoulder as he kept guard at the door. “Hide. Don’t come out until I come for you.”

  Through the dark she looked at him making a stand at the front door, shoulders broad, body braced.

  He was going to try to protect her.

  But he had no idea what he was up against. Hell, she barely knew. She was too exhausted to think. She was cold and tired, and truthfully, just about ready to give up. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. This wasn’t going to happen. “No way. You can’t do this for me; you have to—”

  “Hide, Bailey.”

  She grabbed his hand to try to turn him to face her, desperate to make him understand. He had to hide, too. “Noah—”

  “And stay hidden.” He shoved something into her hand. His cell phone. “If I don’t come for you in ten minutes, call for help.”

  “Where are you—”

  The door shut in her face.

  “Going. Ohmigod.” If he got hurt, or worse…With a half sob, she whipped around and used the penlight to view the penthouse condo.

  She couldn’t see much with the narrow beam of light, but it appeared the place was still overly done in wealth: cool tiles, warm woods, expensive art on the walls, and a ridiculous amount of silk pillows on the overstuffed furniture.

  Stay hidden.

  Noah wanted her to stay hidden while he, an innocent in all this—never mind that there didn’t seem to be an innocent bone in his very fine body—dealt with her mess.

  Hopefully while staying alive, very alive.

  Please, Noah. Please stay alive.

  She moved down the hallway toward the master suite, which she’d never actually slept in. Alan had never invited her, other than the time she’d toured the place at the inspection phase.

  Now she wondered why. Had he stashed his hidden fortune here? If so, she’d know soon enough because Alan enjoyed keeping his safes behind his pieces of art.

  It’d amused him to keep his private things in plain view.

  The master bedroom was so big she couldn’t span it all within the small beam of light. She took in the artwork on the walls, then began pulling out the pictures to peek behind each.

  At least two minutes had gone by. She knew Noah had said to hide, but she had to finish looking.

  She moved back down the hallway into the living room and checked beneath the art there as well. Nothing. She went to the front door, put her eye to the peep hole, and saw…

  Nothing, just an inky blackness.

  A third minute had gone by, possibly a fourth.

  Oh, God.

  Where was he? The thought of something happening to him because of her made her feel sick.

  And where were the people on the elevator? Was it possible they didn’t know what floor she and Noah had gone to?

  Or maybe they’d sent up an empty elevator to trick them, and they were taking the stairs, too, in which case Noah had walked right into a trap.

  She put her hand to the handle and nearly wrenched open the door, but managed to get a rein on her panic. Running out into the dark hallway wasn’t going to help anyone.

  Think.

  Alan had spent some time here. He’d probably had meals…