As soon as she was gone, Chastain rolled his shoulders to shake off the lingering sensation of her sweaty palms and twisted his neck until he felt that satisfying crack. Mariana was a great lay, but lately she was starting to ask questions, nothing dangerous, certainly nothing about what she had to be hearing in the news, but little things. She was starting to get clingy. He was going to have to get rid of her soon.
He hated women who asked questions. That was exactly how he’d found himself in his current situation.
He checked the clock again. Less than a minute had passed.
The phone remained silent.
Taylor had told him the woman got off work at eleven CST. He should have her by now.
Something had gone wrong.
He grabbed the phone and hit the speed dial for Taylor’s cell. Taylor picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“It’s me.”
Taylor’s silence buzzed across the line.
“Well? Do you have her?” Chastain couldn’t even bring himself to say her name.
A few more seconds of silence, followed by a reluctant “No.”
Chastain gripped the receiver so tightly his hand went numb. “No?”
“I lost her.”
He nearly hurled the phone across the room. “What do you mean, you lost her? You assured me the situation was under control.”
“She must have figured something was up. She bolted.”
“She can’t have gotten far. Find her.”
“I will. Don’t worry about it. She’s not getting away.”
“You’d damn well better hope she doesn’t. I want to hear back that you’ve got her within the hour.”
He slammed the phone down, cutting off the rest of Taylor’s useless assurances. He hated having to rely on the overgrown Neanderthal, but Taylor was the only person he could trust, the only one with as much on the line as Chastain himself.
Unable to sit still any longer, he climbed to his feet and crossed to the ceiling-to-floor windows with their flawless view of Central Park. The sight did little to calm him. He had people paying him millions for a view like this. He owned half the city, and he stood to lose it all. There were a lot of people who’d love to see it happen. The D.A. was looking to score political points. The cops would be lining up to see him go down. And every property owner and tenant he’d had to coax cooperation from in the past would be falling over themselves with glee.
He felt like throwing open the windows and screaming at every one of them that it wasn’t going to happen. He hadn’t worked for everything he’d built to lose it all now.
It wasn’t going to happen. His reflection stared back at him in the glass. His gaze was clear and determined, the sign of a man who knew his own path and always had. Price Chastain made his own destiny, just like he’d made his own name. His destiny was to always come out on top.
That wasn’t about to change.
R ETURNING HIS CELL PHONE to the clip on his belt, Roy Taylor scanned the empty street for any sign of the woman. He gritted his teeth, grinding his molars together so hard he felt a jolt of pain shoot along his jaw. The action was the only outlet he gave to the fury simmering in his veins.
It was bad enough the woman had managed to escape. He didn’t need Chastain riding him about it. As if he didn’t have as much to lose as Chastain did if they didn’t get their hands on her before anyone else did.
He shouldn’t have answered the phone. Except he knew Chastain would just keep calling back until he did.
The twenty calls a day he was fielding from the man told him everything he needed to know. Chastain didn’t trust him. He thought he was going to take off and leave him holding the bag. Well, Roy Taylor was no coward. He wasn’t about to spend the rest of his life running.
Eight years of picking up after the man, and Chastain acted like he’d never done a thing for him. Taylor sure wasn’t the one who’d screwed everything up. Chastain had done it all by himself and now they were all paying for it.
Taylor picked up his pace, heading back in the direction he was sure the woman had gone. He was going to find her, all right. It was what he always did. He got the job done, no matter what it took.
But not for Chastain this time. For himself.
Chastain could think whatever the hell he wanted. The only person Roy Taylor was looking out for was Roy Taylor.
It was every man for himself.
Chapter Three
She did her best to ignore him as they wound their way through the back alleys that led to her apartment. There was a faster, more direct route of course, but she wasn’t about to risk running into Taylor on one of those streets.
Already she was plotting her next move for when she reached her apartment and ditched her unwanted companion. She’d memorized the bus schedules out of Chicago her first day in the city. Her bag was packed. All she needed to do was pick it up, and she could catch the “EL” back to the bus station. She should be on her way to parts unknown before dawn. The destination would be wherever the first bus out of town took her. It was pretty straightforward.
She picked up the pace, ready to be on her way. The man behind her didn’t miss a step. She frowned in annoyance. Of all the times to pick up a Good Samaritan.
She didn’t even know what he looked like, she realized. His face had remained in shadow back on the corner. All she knew was that he was tall and strong. The man was muscular as hell, and she’d been pressed up against every one of those muscles.
She wondered idly what she was doing. It wasn’t like it mattered how built the guy was. After the next couple of minutes, she was never going to see him again.
He didn’t say a word to her until they reached the rundown five-story building she’d called home for the past four months. She plowed up the steps without looking back at him, but sensed him appraising the structure.
“Nice place,” he said in a tone dry as dust.
“It’s a dump. You can say it.” The observation wouldn’t offend her. She hadn’t exactly been focusing on the building’s aesthetic qualities when it had come to finding a place to live.
She pushed the front door open, and when she didn’t immediately sense him behind her, she thought for a second he was going to leave. The notion was crushed an instant later when he laid his hand on the door and held it open for her. Rather than chance Taylor coming across them on the front stoop, she plunged inside and let him follow. She’d have to save the goodbyes for her front door. Like it or not, he would be saying goodbye then.
“Aren’t you worried he’ll follow you here?” her Samaritan asked as he trailed her up the unlit stairs.
“No. He doesn’t know about the apartment.” If he had he would have waited to ambush her here. Instead, he’d come after her in a public place.
“So it wasn’t random.”
Had she revealed too much? Too late to worry about it now. “No. It wasn’t random.”
She finally reached the third floor. Her apartment was the first on the left, facing the front of the building. Key already in hand, she shoved it into the lock, threw the door open and whirled back to face him before he’d stepped onto the shadowy landing.
“See. I made it. Safe and sound.”
Looming over her, he looked past her into the apartment. She doubted he could see much. It was still probably enough to let him know it wasn’t any more hospitable