“There’s only one bed,” she said in a thick voice.
“That’s right. We’ll be sharing it.”
“I’m not sharing a bed with you.”
He shrugged. “You can sleep on the floor, if you like. Or sit up all night in that chair.” He pointed to the rolling chair pushed under the desk against the wall.
“I’m the guest. You should let me have the bed.”
“Not tonight, mami.”
Sharing a bed with her was not his best idea. He’d probably be hard as a rock within minutes of lying next to her, but that was the only option tonight because he intended to get a good night’s rest, on a mattress.
She hugged herself and watched as he took an extra pillow from the closet and kicked off his shoes.
“I have to pee,” she announced.
Vicente pointed to the right of the bed. “Bathroom is through that door.”
“I want to take a shower, too. I feel…icky. I always take a shower at night. But you probably already know that, since you’ve been spying on me.”
He was two seconds away from throttling her. He shot her a tight smile. “There’s soap and towels in the bathroom.”
Shanice picked up her backpack.
“Where are you going with that?” Vicente asked.
“My toothbrush and toiletries are in here.” She walked toward the bathroom.
“Don’t take forever. I need to wash up, too.”
She closed the door and he heard the lock engage.
Shanice rested her forehead against the door. What a freaking night! Vicente wasn’t who he said he was, and someone had sent a team to kill her. How did they find her? Was it possible she couldn’t even trust the FBI?
She closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath.
Now she was in an even worse situation than before because she didn’t have a phone or a safe home. Being with Vicente didn’t make her feel truly safe because she didn’t know him. She cringed as she remembered last night’s kiss and how much she’d ached for him to make love to her. What a fool she’d been.
She needed to bide her time until the right moment to get away because she didn’t trust him. He knew about the list and said he wasn’t FBI, yet he couldn’t tell her who he worked for. Well, that wasn’t good enough.
She turned away from the door and examined the interior of the bathroom. It was small, with a frosted window next to the commode. Wondering if it led to the alley they accessed to enter the building, she pushed to lift it up. Fortunately, it wasn’t painted shut. It squeaked a little bit, so she raised it up very slowly to limit the noise. At the same time, she listened for movement from Vicente.
Standing on tiptoe, she peered out. The alley was right there, one floor below, and a main street ran perpendicular to it. In the dim light, she saw a dumpster, and if she landed on that, the drop wouldn’t be too bad. Then she could get away. This might be her way out.
With a burst of excitement, Shanice grabbed her backpack.
Vicente rapped on the door and she jumped. “Are you all right in there?” he called.
“Yes, I’m fine. Can I have a little time alone, please?”
“Just checking on you.”
“I’m about to get in the shower.”
She turned on the water and then climbed onto the lid of the toilet. With her backpack over one arm, since she couldn’t put it on her back if she wanted to fit through the window, she hoisted herself up.
She didn’t have a whole lot of time and didn’t want to be in there too long because Vicente would become suspicious. She climbed out and onto the ledge created from a joint where Vicente’s apartment connected with the one below. Very carefully, keeping her chest pressed to the dirty brick wall, Shanice shifted the bag onto her back and prepared for the next step. She had to be very, very careful.
Balancing precariously, she lay flat on the narrow ledge and then slid sideways so her feet dangled over the edge.
Don’t look down. Don’t look down, she told herself repeatedly.
With a quick prayer in the hope she wouldn’t injure herself, she shifted the rest of her body over the ledge. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the upper body strength needed to hold on. Her fingers slipped and she grappled not to lose her grip. With a small cry, she dropped onto the dumpster with a loud thump.
Out of breath, on her sore bottom, and with bruised fingertips, she wiggled her hands and feet and realized she hadn’t been badly hurt. Her pride had taken the worst beating.
Grinning, she looked up at the window and shook her head. One of these days, she’d go back to her normal, easy-going life. Until then, she had to find a new hiding place and figure out what to do next.
Shanice climbed off the dumpster and dusted off her clothes. With a brisk walk, she took off for the street that crossed the alley…and came to an abrupt halt. Fear jumped into her throat.
Vicente stood in the doorway where they’d entered earlier. He looked completely at ease, arms crossed over his massive chest, umber eyes flinty and filled with accusation.
“Going somewhere?” he asked.
12
His grip on her upper arm was tight and angry as he dragged her up the stairs.
“You’re hurting me,” Shanice said.
In response, Vicente muttered a stream of Spanish words, which she was pretty sure were curse words. At the apartment door, he pushed her inside and she stumbled forward.
He locked the door and stalked toward her. “What the hell were you thinking? Why did you run? You could have seriously hurt yourself climbing out that window. ”
“I was scared! I wanted to get away from you. I don’t know who you are!” She’d seen what he’d done to those men and didn’t want him to do the same to her.
“I’m the guy who saved your ass less than two hours ago.”
“Maybe you did that so you could kill me later if I give you the data you say you need.”
“If I wanted to kill you, I’d have already done it. If I wanted to get the information out of you, which I know you’re lying about, there are ways to do that, believe me.”
The veiled threat did nothing to put her mind at ease.
“You think running away from me is a good idea? How long will you keep running, eh? They killed your neighbor across the street and took over his house to get to you. They’re going to keep coming for you, and when they can’t get to you, they’ll move on to your family members. They might go after your mother. Is that what you want?”
“No! Don’t say that.”
“They’ve killed once before. There’s nothing to stop them from killing again because they haven’t gotten what they wanted.”
“I want to go back to normal. I want to feel safe again.”
“You can’t go back to normal. Normal is done for you,” Vicente said in a grim tone. “Enough of this bullshit. Your boyfriend stole some information—information that if it gets out could jeopardize our national security.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Your ex-boyfriend, then.”
“My ex-boyfriend had nothing to do with this.” What he was saying didn’t make any sense.