Free Eleventh Hour by Catherine Coulter

Dane. “I had to try again. No go.”
    Dane said, “Inspector Delion means that there isn’t a safe house for you. Given that I firmly believe you need to be kept out of harm’s way, I’m taking you with me, back to my hotel. You’ll stay with me until we find this guy.”
    “You’re nuts,” Nick said. “I’m homeless. No hotel would even let me through the door. Look at me, for God’s sake. I look like what I am. Besides, I don’t want to stay at a hotel. I’m just fine where I am.”
    Delion said, “The FBI undoubtedly has a safe house in the area.”
    “Nope, I don’t want to involve them in this. Trust me, Delion, you don’t either.”
    “The camel’s-nose-under-the-tent sort of thing? That’s fine by me. We don’t want Ms. Jones to end up like Valerie Striker. I’m heading to a meeting with the chief now. We’re organizing a task force, then we’
    ll have more than enough manpower of our own to catch this creep.”
    Dane waited to say anything else until Delion was out of earshot. “You’re safe for the moment. But, Ms.
    Jones, when the guy who murdered my brother and three other people realizes his description is out there, you know as well as I do that he’ll try to hunt you down. You want to be in that shelter when you hear his footsteps coming up the stairs? There isn’t anyone there who could help you.”
    She went nearly as white as his shirt. “I’ll leave San Francisco, go south.”
    “No, going on the run isn’t the answer. If you force us to, we’ll arrest you as a material witness.”
    But evidently Delion wasn’t out of earshot. He stopped, said over his shoulder, “You’ve obviously got a lot of crap going on in your life, Ms. Jones. I’d go with the big Fed if I were wearing your shoes. Let him watch out for you.” Delion fanned his hands. “You don’t have to worry about our asking you any more questions about your past, okay?”
    “No,” she said. “I’m stupid for staying this long. I’ve told you what I know. I’m outta here.” She was out of her chair and heading toward the door in a flash.
    Delion made a grab for her, but missed.
    Dane sighed, said over his shoulder, “She moves fast.”
    One of the inspectors called out, “She must have learned that in the Tenderloin.”
    Dane stomped after her. He saw a flash of her red sweater as she ran past the elevator toward the stairs.
    He caught her just before she made it to the third-floor exit.
    He didn’t know what he expected, but she fought him like her life depended on it. She kicked and punched and didn’t make a single sound while she was trying to kill him.
    Why didn’t she yell at him?

    He finally managed to get behind her and force her arms against her sides. He pulled her back hard against him so she couldn’t move.
    “Hold still, just hold still.”
    She was breathing hard, but still she struggled and tugged and heaved. She was strong, workout strong.
    He simply held on as tightly as he could. She couldn’t gain enough leverage to hurt him, but she tried.
    A couple of cops came out onto the third-floor landing. “Hey, what’s going on here?”
    “I’m Dane Carver, FBI,” Dane said. “She’s trying to escape. Go ask Delion up in Homicide.”
    “You need any help?”
    “No,” Dane said. “I wish you’d come about five minutes ago, though.”
    “Yeah, I can see how you’d have trouble with a perp who’s fifty pounds lighter than you. You want us to get Delion? Tough guy, Delion. He can stop a perp, no matter how big.”
    “Nah. I’ve finally got her pinned.”
    She’d quieted, just a bit, but he’d no sooner got the words out of his mouth than she went wild again.
    She took him by surprise this time, twisting sharply inward, and his hold on her loosened just a bit. She drove her elbow into his belly and was off again, as the air whooshed out of him.
    “Yeah, you’ve got her, all right,” one of the officers said, laughing.
    Dane caught her again on the second floor just