Free Hidden Gems by Carrie Alexander Page B

she wasn’t as tough as she’d thought.
    Jamie, she called silently. Please help. Maybe if she could get free, tip over a chair or slam a door. But he was two floors above. He’d never hear.
    “My luggage,” she blurted. “The bag, there.” She nodded toward the big straw purse, but obviously he’d already been through it. Her passport had been tossed aside, the fashion magazine lay splayed with torn pages. The camera was in pieces, apparently smashed against the floor.
    “Where’s the rest of it?”
    “In the b-bedroom.” Marissa’s lungs seized. ¡Dios mio! she didn’t want to go in there with him!
    He dragged her toward the dark end of the apartment. Marissa pretended to stumble over the coatrack and he loosened his hold, reaching past her to push the tall column aside.
    With a stab of pain, she wrenched free. Her captor let out a roar as she leaped like a gazelle across the coatrack. He grabbed at her, but she was too quick. He got only a fistful of long black hair.
    She ran into the bedroom, slammed and locked the door, knowing it wouldn’t hold even before his body crashed against the barrier. She leaned her weight against it. Bang. He hit it again. The door bulged inward. She wished she’d eaten more pancakes and Twinkies.
    Bang. The entire wall reverberated. Surely someone would hear and call 9-1-1.
    She scanned the top of the nearby chest of drawers for a weapon, then realized she still had her bag. The lightweight evening purse was strung across her chest on a narrow strap, but it had become twisted so the beaded bag was at her back. She didn’t dare let up her stance to wrestle out the cell phone.
    Bang. The intruder cursed. “Let me in and you won’t get hurt.”
    Really. Did anyone ever believe that cliché?
    “Stand back,” she called, giving the doorknob a jiggle. He’d have to be an idiot to believe she’d let him in, but she needed only a few seconds. Risking that he was that dumb, she stepped away from the door and with all her might shoved the bureau a few feet over. That wouldn’t hold him, either. But she might have time to crawl out the window.
    The knob rattled. “Bitch!” Bang.
    She crossed the room in a flash. She grabbed at her purse, but the window was stuck and she had to use both hands to wrench it open. Praying that Harry had hidden himself well, she scrambled out onto the fire escape. One of her shoes fell off, bounced off the open metal stairs and dropped thirty feet to the cracked pavement.
    She glanced down. Her stomach lurched. Incredibly, a second man in black stood at the foot of the fire escape, looking up at her. His glare was lethal. She had the strange sense that she’d seen him before.
    They stared at each other, paralyzed. Only for a moment before Marissa’s senses returned. She became aware of the aches in her body, the cool air against her hot skin, the rough bite of the metal platform on her bare sole.
    There was a great crash from inside the bedroom as the bureau tipped over. She jerked out of her trance to let out a gut-busting scream.
    She began climbing. “Jamie! Help!” The staircase structure shook alarmingly as the burglar followed her onto it.
    Gasping desperately, she climbed faster. “Oh, please, someone help.” Her foot skidded. Damn high heels. She kicked away the other shoe, hoping it would knock her pursuer in the head.
    She was so exposed. If either of the men had a gun…
    Don’t think. Climb!
    Above her, a light blinked on behind the curtains. It grew brighter, a precious salvation pouring out of the building as the curtains were drawn aside. The window opened with a screech of the sash. Silhouetted head and shoulders appeared.
    “Oh, God, Jamie. Call 9-1-1!”
    He didn’t. He was out of the window in a shot, dangling himself by one arm through the stairwell to grab hold of her hand and pull her up. She seemed to fly the last few feet.
    With a sob, she threw herself into Jamie’s arms. He was rock-steady, warm with sleep. “Go,