Sundays Are for Murder

by Marie Ferrarella

  He glanced into the backpack to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. The high-priced, innocuous toys deposited inside had saved his skin more than once. Erik spared her a look that said he wasn’t about to brook an argument. “It’s your life I’m trying to save.”

  Yeah, right. Stubbornly she folded her arms. “And just how are you going to do that by taking me with you?”

  “Because if I leave you here and the men who are after me find you, they’ll think you’re with me. More important, they’ll think you know—” He broke off and shrugged. “You don’t want that to happen.” Quickly he stuffed her book into the backpack and caught the incredulous look on her face. “In case you want to read later.”

  The man was insane. In one breath he was talking about her imminent death; in the next he was packing reading matter for her. Following him to the door, she clung to the obvious. “But I don’t know anything.”

  He paused by the door. It’d be easier to just leave her behind, but despite his years of service he still had a conscience. And he knew what his opponents were capable of. Things a woman like Marla O’Connor couldn’t begin to fathom. “They won’t believe you, and when they’re through with you, you won’t believe you.”

  Marla raised her chin, hoping her voice wouldn’t give her away. “You’re just trying to scare me.”

  “How am I doing?” Cracking open the door, he looked down the hall, then quickly pulled it shut again. Damn, he’d seen two of them on the far end of the floor.

  Marla jumped when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the door. “Congratulations, you’ve just succeeded in scaring me half to death.”

  “Just as long as I manage to keep the other half of you alive, I’ll be glad.” His mind racing, he came up with their only way out. He hoped she was as athletic as she looked. Erik glanced at her feet. “Maybe you’d better put on something without a heel.”

  “I don’t own anything without a heel.”

  He blew out a breath. “It figures.”

  Marla’s nerves began begetting nerves. He crossed to the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony, dragging her with him. She did not like whatever he was planning. “I thought you said we were leaving.”

  “We are.”

  “The door’s that way.” She used her free hand to point.

  “I know.” Dropping the backpack to the floor, he pushed open the glass door with one hand, still holding her with the other. “We’re going out this way.”

  She saw him take something out of the backpack that looked like a small remote control. When he aimed it at the railing, a metal hook shot out and wrapped itself around the bar. Some sort of thin cord followed in its wake.

  This wasn’t happening. “Are you crazy? We’re twelve stories up.”

  He was more than aware just how far they could fall. But they weren’t going to. He hadn’t completed what he’d been sent out to do, and he was a firm believer in living up to his commitments. It was as simple as that. “They make the balconies strong.”

  “But my knees are weak,” she protested, even as he pushed her out onto the balcony. She eyed the gun that he’d shoved into the waistband of his slacks and wondered if she could risk trying to grab it.

  But if she did, he might push her off the balcony. She had absolutely no idea what he was capable of.

  Mechanically he tested the cord. He knew the line was strong enough to support two agile elephants if it came to that. “Just follow my lead. This’ll be over before you know it.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “Sideways or down?” When she looked at him in confusion, he indicated the two ways they could go—down one floor or across to the next building.

  Each seemed equally inaccessible to her unless she suddenly sprouted wings. “Now you decide to be gallant.” He looked at her expectantly. “Down.” Marla wet her lips as her stomach lurched. “I hope that’s not a prophecy.”

  “Not today,” he promised her.

  She hung on to that, the promise made to her by a madman, though there was no earthly reason she should. But it helped still her trembling fingers.

  He went ahead of her, shimmying down the thin line like an Olympic gold-medal winner at his event. “Now you,” he called up to her.

  For a second she contemplated staying right where she was. Then she heard someone try the knob on the locked door of her hotel room, followed by the sound of a large object crashing against it. Someone was trying to break in. She swung her leg over the railing.

  “Maybe this is just a bad dream,” she muttered under her breath. “Maybe I’ll wake up in a minute.”

  “This is real, Marla,” Erik shouted. “Hurry.” He raised his hands to her. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you. Just remember, don’t look down.”

  Too late. Panic was scrambling through her with long, jagged fingernails. The line bit into her palms as she lowered herself. “Why do they always say that?”

  The breeze from the ocean picked up, billowing her skirt out like a saucy red mushroom as she began her rapid descent. Just as she was afraid her strength would give out she felt his hands gliding up along her legs as he caught hold of her. A flash of heat went barreling through her like a runaway freight. It only intensified as her body slid against his. An eternity later her feet touched the balcony floor.

  Her breath froze where it was.

  His face inches away from hers, Erik searched it for signs that she was about to break down. He saw none. The woman was gutsier than she thought. “You all right?”

  Marla swallowed, hoping she wouldn’t squeak when she opened her mouth. “I will be, as soon as I catch my breath.” No chance of that happening any time soon, she added silently.

  He grinned at her. “You were great.” The backpack was already slung over one shoulder. Erik caught hold of her hand. “Let’s go.”

  “Go?” She looked around the suite as he pulled her through it, her heart sinking as she realized that there was no one here. No one to rescue her from this man claiming to be rescuing her. “Just exactly where is it we’re going?” How far did he intend to drag her? “People do know I’m here. They’re going to come looking for me.”

  Very slowly Erik cracked open the door and looked out. This time there was no one in sight. He took a chance. Hand to the small of her back, he ushered her out and to the stairwell.

  “Frankly, at the moment I am less than paralyzed at the thought of a group of teachers hunting me down. And to answer your question, we are going in search of a crowd to get lost in.” He smiled at her as he pulled open the stairwell door. “There’s safety in numbers.”

  She sincerely hoped so.

  THERE WERE TWO restaurants on the premises, a well-lit establishment that catered to families and a sophisticated bar that echoed of dark blue lights and enticing music. To her surprise, he chose the latter.

  Signaling the hostess, he held up two fingers. A moment later the woman was leading them into the heart of the place.

  “I thought you wanted a crowd to get lost in,” Marla whispered.

  “There are people here,” he pointed out, keeping a firm hold of her hand. “And enough shadows for us not to stand out.”

  She tried to make out faces as they followed the hostess. Why was it that everyone had taken on a sinister cast? “So we’ll be safe?”

  He’d come to know that was only a relative term. “As safe as is possible.”

  Her stomach tightened another notch. Desperately she tried to be logical.

  Marla waited until they were alone in the small booth. “You know, I only have your word for it that there’s someone after you. How do I know any of this is true?”

  He’d wondered when she’d get around to interrogating him. “For the moment, in the interests of staying alive, you’re going to have to take that on faith.” He knew he was asking a lot. “Besides, why would I climb down a balcony if someone wasn’t after me?”

  She had no answers, only questions. “I don’t
know. Maybe you’re a frustrated Sherpa guide, or—”

  The rest of her sentence was abruptly stopped. Sliding closer to her in the tiny booth than her own dress, Erik framed her face with his hands and covered her lips with his own.

  She stopped breathing again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HE WAS KISSING HER.

  One minute she was talking, the next he was kissing. Kissing her as if they’d been together before the first stars had ever been struck in the sky.

  When dazed surprise gave way to realization, Marla had every intention of pushing him away. But it was hard to push with arms that had gone as limp as overcooked spaghetti.

  To the best of her knowledge, she’d never been present at a meltdown before. She would have remembered. She was present at one now. Her own.

  Erik considered himself a consummate professional. Someone who could keep his head in any given situation, even one that threatened to separate that same head from his shoulders. But for just the tiniest particle of a second he lost track of the tall, distinguished-looking dangerous men he had seen entering the restaurant and focused only on the incredible impact several inches of pliant skin was having on him.

  It took every bit of his intense, rigorous training to distance himself from the kiss and home back in on his situation. Their situation.

  Their lips finally separated, Marla waited until the raging inferno within her settled down into a manageable forest fire. It took that long for air to return to her lungs.

  “What—what was that?” She was trying for indignation. She managed a squeak.

  Pretty damn hot stuff, was the first answer that came into his head, but he replied, “Camouflage.”

  Marla stared at him, wondering when the pounding of her heart would cease breaking the sound barrier. “Excuse me?”

  He leaned in close to her, so close that his breath was singeing her skin. “The men who broke in to your room just walked into the restaurant. I didn’t want them to see my face.”

  “So you buried it in mine?”

  “Seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

  She automatically began to turn around to see if she could spot the men he was talking about. The next thing she knew, Erik had her hand again and was bringing her to her feet. “Now what?”

  His eyes indicated the small, discreet band playing soft music to fall in love by. “Now we dance.”

  This was getting stranger and stranger. “And then what? If we dance well enough, they’ll go away and leave us alone?”

  “No.” Deftly he picked up the backpack, slipping it onto the crook of her arm. She had a feeling they weren’t coming back to their table or to the food her empty stomach was anticipating. “If we dance well enough, we’ll be able to make it to the kitchen before anyone notices what we’re doing.”

  They were on the small dance floor now, mingling with several other couples. Pressing her hand to his chest, Erik slipped his other hand against the small of her back. She felt something hit her hip. Her eyes widened as a warm flush rose from her core and worked its way up to her cheeks.

  It was all well and good to fantasize about being whisked away by a secret agent like the one in the book she’d bought, but this wasn’t fantasy—this was real. She couldn’t make up her mind if she was scared or excited. Or both. All she knew was that her heart was still beating wildly.

  A languid, sexy smile slipped across his lips. He knew what she was thinking. Very slowly he moved his head from side to side. “That’s your purse getting familiar with you, not me.” His smile deepened. “If we get out of this alive, we can see about getting familiar without the purse.”

  She was still fighting off the effects of his kiss. Contact had very nearly short-circuited her brain and she still couldn’t think all that clearly. “If we get out of this alive,” she heard herself saying, “I’m finding the nearest policeman and having you arrested.”

  He smiled into her eyes, resisting the urge to kiss her again. This was not the time. But he wished like hell it was. “Whatever turns you on, Marla.”

  This wasn’t real, not the conversation, not any of it. It couldn’t be. And yet…

  She found herself getting lost in wondering what turned him on, and then gave herself a mental shake. She opened her mouth to say something cool and cutting. “You dance well, but then I guess that’s required of a secret agent.”

  Darn, she was too aware of being held in his arms to be cool and cutting.

  With one eye on his destination, he began directing their steps. The less she knew, the better for both of them. Especially if the two men who were after him succeeded in catching up to them. He glanced back to see if they were watching.

  They blended in well. Two suave-looking businessmen of slender build. They could have been brothers. The other side picked their operatives well, Erik thought.

  “I’m not a secret agent.”

  She could feel his body heat. Some very erotic things were happening to her. She was on the brink of meltdown again with a man she knew nothing about except that in another life she would have been willing to spend all of hers with him. “Then what are you?”

  “Just a public servant.”

  He had to think she was an idiot. “Public servants are sanitation engineers and councilmen, not men who play Tarzan off balconies.”

  He pressed his cheek against her hair. Her perfume curled through his veins, taking a shade of the sharpness from his finely honed edge. “Have it your way.”

  Frustration burrowed in between some very insensible thoughts that included silk sheets and naked torsos. “Don’t humor me.”

  The phrase adorable when mad played across his mind as he looked at her. Up to his neck in danger, he had the sudden urge to nibble on her earlobe. “Then what?”

  “Answer me. Tell me one thing that’s going on.”

  His eyes partially closed, he slanted his gaze toward the men again. They were looking in his direction. Erik’s hand tightened on hers. “Can’t. Now very slowly, we’re going in that direction.”

  She could see out of the corner of her eye. “That’s the bar.”

  “Kitchen’s just beyond,” he assured her. Once there, they could make a run for it.

  She still didn’t see it. “How do you know that?”

  He continued to steer them slowly across the floor. The inches were painful, but any faster would attract attention. “Easy. I never go into a place I don’t know how to get out of.”

  “Spy by-rules?”

  He laughed softly, sending a major shiver down her spine. “Actually, that’s something Robert De Niro said in a movie once. Sounded like good advice. Now,” he whispered against her ear. The next moment she felt herself being pushed urgently toward the far end of the bar, passing several people seated against it.

  One looked up. And gaped. “Oh, my God, Marla, what are you doing here—wow!” The question ended in an exclamation framed in wonder.

  Marla craned her neck and saw Barbara on the end stool. Her friend was staring at Erik with deep appreciation. Hope sprang up.

  “Barbara,” Marla called, trying to break free of Erik’s grasp. She might as well have tried to bend bare steel in her hands. “I need help.”

  Barbara smiled at her in sincere envy. “Believe me, if I wasn’t engaged, I wouldn’t hesitate for a second.” She lifted her glass in a toast. “Have a great time, you sly devil. Good for you!” she called after Marla as the latter disappeared through the swinging kitchen doors.

  “Who was that?” Erik demanded.

  He’d broken into a run. She had no choice but to follow. Kitchen workers and waitstaff yelled at them as they passed. “My best friend up until a second ago.” Ducking her head, she narrowly avoided plowing into a waiter carrying a large tray filled wish dishes and wineglasses. “Why are we running?”

  “Because your little exchange attracted the very people I was trying to avoid.” He looked over his shoulder and saw two men in gray designer suits enter the kitch
en. “Damn. Go, go, go!” Not waiting for her to obey the order, Erik took the lead, dragging her in his wake.

  Just as they made it into the alley, something whizzed by her head. The noise repeated.

  She tried to twist around to see what was going on. Erik wouldn’t let her. “What the—”

  “Bullets, Marla.” He picked up speed. There was a car just up ahead. He had to reach it in time. “They call them bullets. In plain English, the bad guys are shooting at us. Now run, damn it, run!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  ERIK FELT THE HEAT as a bullet whizzed past his left ear. He silently blessed the shooters’ poor aim or luck, whichever was responsible. The next moment, he saw Marla stumble and fall just a foot short of the convertible.

  In a swift, fluid movement that was as instinctive as breathing, Erik placed his body between her and the men pursuing them. Grabbing her arm, he yanked Marla to her feet while pulling open the passenger door. Pain exploded in his shoulder, then radiated out, infiltrating all parts of him.

  Surprised, he loosened his fingers on her arm, then tightened them again. With superhuman effort he tried to hold on to not only her but to consciousness, as well. Erik willed himself to breathe evenly.

  The pain began to blend in with everything else. He focused on what he had to do. Get them out of there.

  As he’d pushed her into the passenger’s side of the Mustang, Marla had felt Erik stagger behind her, grunting something unintelligible under his breath. It was more like a growl than real words. “What?”

  He didn’t answer. Erik was already on the other side, throwing himself into the driver’s seat. Twisting around, she saw men running in their direction as he began doing something with the wires beneath the dashboard. Wearing suits that seemed in direct contradiction to the activity they were engaged in, the men looked as if they were fresh out of a boardroom meeting. Except for the guns in their hands. Marla had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.