Free Serial Bride by Ann Voss Peterson Page A

forehead. What kind of a person would try to attack someone in a public building? Just a few steps away from help?
    Whoever had taken Diana .
    She looked down the stairwell. Reaching the next floor was her best bet. Once there, she could find help. Whoever was following wouldn’t dare attack her in a hallway bustling with people.
    Taking a deep breath, she launched into a run. Hershoes clattered on concrete. She reached the mid-floor landing. Gripping the handrail, she whipped around the turn and headed down the next staircase.
    The thunk of footsteps rang above her. Faster. Keeping time with hers.
    She hit the landing and grabbed for the doorknob. She yanked the door open and lunged out of the stairwell.
    And into silent, dusty darkness.

Chapter Eight
    Sylvie willed her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. In the red glow of the exit sign above the stairwell door, she could see a hallway set up identical to the ICU floor, a short hallway splitting off the main one, the bank of elevators. But that’s where the similarities ended. The level she was on was a mess. Giant power tools cluttered the space, each a hulking shape in the darkness. Dust shrouded the industrial tile floor, slick under her shoes. And being Saturday night, there wasn’t a soul around.
    She was totally alone.
    Her throat constricted, making it hard to catch her breath. She had to get off this floor. She had to find people, find Bryce. But the first thing she had to do was to hide.
    She dashed to one side of the hall, ducking behind one hulking obstacle, then the other. A pallet of tile. An oversize trash bin. When she reached whatappeared to be some kind of table saw, she heard the door of the stairwell open.
    She crouched behind the saw. She didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare breathe. She thought she was going to be sick.
    The door closed with a thud. Soft footsteps scraped across construction grit.
    She tried to peek around the table in front of her. Nothing but more hulking shapes, more red-tinged darkness. He wasn’t close enough yet. But judging from his footfalls, he would be soon.
    She groped along the dusty floor with one hand. A construction area had to have tools laying about. Didn’t it? If she could find something, anything, she could use as a weapon…
    Her fingers hit something slick. Plastic. A section of PVC pipe. Not ideal, not anywhere near heavy enough, but it would have to do. She didn’t have much to choose from. She wrapped clammy fingers around the pipe.
    And waited.
    Footsteps scraped closer.
    A drop of sweat trickled over her temple. Dust tickled her nose and clogged her lungs. She didn’t dare breathe.
    The sound of footsteps halted on the other side of the saw. A hulking figure against the red glow. The outline of a man. He was not too tall, but his broadshoulders suggested strength. Much more strength than she could overpower with a piece of plastic pipe.
    She listened to his breathing, trying to sense the direction of his gaze. An eternity ticked by. Her lungs screamed for air. Her sinuses burned with the need to sneeze.
    With a scrape, he pivoted and moved away. The door to the stairwell opened, then slammed with a bang.
    A tremble seized her chest. She sagged forward, against the saw’s heavy steel. Slowly she convinced her fingers to release the pipe, setting it quietly on the floor. But other than that, she still didn’t dare move. He might still be here. Waiting. She had to be sure.
    After a few more minutes she peered over the saw. She could see nothing in the exit sign’s light but the tile palettes, sawhorses and other equipment. He was gone.
    She straightened. Her legs tingled and stung as blood rushed back into them. Stifling a sneeze, she looked down the hall. There had to be another exit, another stairwell. She didn’t dare try the one she’d entered.
    Moving away from the red glow, she stumbled through the dark hallway, running her hand along a partially