Free High-Stakes Affair by Gail Barrett Page A

had the chance?
    Pushing back his suspicions, he raced up another flight of stairs. He’d grill her about what happened once they’d escaped those guards.
    He paused on the third-floor landing to make sure Paloma was still behind him, then ran up the attic stairs. He shouldered open the door, strode through the musty room to the dormer window and peered out.
    No sign of the guards. But they were probably standing too close to the building for him to see.
    Paloma joined him at the window, her lungs heaving as she gasped for breath.
    “We’ll go across the roof to the neighbor’s building,” he told her. “We can work our way down from there.”
    “All right.”
    He checked her low-heeled boots. “Can you climb in those?”
    “Yes. They’ve got crepe soles.”
    He nodded at that, reassured. “Good. But stay near the apex, where it’s easier to walk. And try not to make any noise.” He turned the latch on the window and tugged it open. “I’ll go first,” he added. “Grab my hand and I’ll help you out.”
    He hauled himself over the window frame and scrambled outside. Mindful of the edge of the roof just three narrow feet away, he circled to the back of the dormer and leaned out over the top. A second later, Paloma’s head emerged.
    “Up here,” he whispered, extending his hand. Her eyes huge, her face chalk-white, she reached up and gripped his hand. Clinging to him with a death grip, she crawled out the window and stood. He guided her to the top of the roof.
    “You okay?” he whispered.
    “As long as I don’t look down.”
    He nodded back, impressed. He’d expected her to balk. “I’ll lead the way. Watch your step.”
    Slowing his pace so she wouldn’t stumble, he crept across the red clay tiles. When he reached the adjacent building, he leaped down five feet to its lower roof.
    “Still all right?” he asked as he helped her down. Landing softly beside him, she managed a shaky nod, increasing his respect. Despite her obvious fear, she didn’t give up.
    Still trying to stay silent, he continued across the roof to the neighboring house. Two buildings later, they’d made it on to the roof of a one-story addition, just ten feet off the ground.
    Dante peered over the edge at the alley, searching for the best way down. He spotted a stretch of dirt—a flower patch gone to seed. It wasn’t ideal, but it beat leaping onto cement.
    But then a guard appeared below.
    Dante froze, hoping like hell the guard wouldn’t look up. The man paced back and forth, peering into the shadows, then finally went around the side of the building and disappeared. But the sound of approaching voices indicated he wasn’t alone.
    Dante leaned toward Paloma. “Jump right after I do. Then run to the bike. No matter what happens, don’t stop. We won’t have much time.” He held her gaze. “Ready?”
    Her full lips tightening, she gave him a nod. His adrenaline surging, he scooted to the edge of the roof and leaped.
    He landed in the dirt with a heavy thump, the impact jolting through his legs and clacking his jaw. He jumped up and whipped around, just as Paloma came crashing down. She hit the ground and gasped.
    He grabbed her hand and yanked her upright, knowing the guards would have heard them land. Still hauling her with him, he raced toward the Dumpster where he’d parked his bike.
    But a man shouted out. Swearing, Dante pulled her behind the Dumpster and ducked. A shot barked out, pinging off the metal just inches from where they stood. His pulse chaotic, Dante hopped on the bike and cranked the throttle as Paloma swung up behind him and clutched his waist.
    He rammed the bike into gear and gunned the engine, rocketing down the alley just as a barrage of gunfire broke out. Praying the shots would miss them, he sped to the nearest street and turned. Then he took the bike to the limit, zigzagging through the crooked streets toward his estate.
    Several minutes later, when he was sure the guards weren’t behind