Chapter 9

9

"T he hotel café's off the lobby upstairs." Will pushed open the street door. The hotel contained a Broadway theatre as well, and shoppers, guests, and people attending the matinee streamed through the doors with them. Will steered her toward the elevators.

Upstairs, Will's friend, Clay LeBlanc, tanned with short dark hair waited for them where the restaurant merged with the lobby in the open plan layout. He shook her hand, his dark eyes serious. "Nice to meet you, Gwen. I'm expecting a call back from a colleague with more information about who you saw. Let's grab a sandwich while we wait."

They took a table with a view of the lobby, and Gwen stowed her shopping bags at her feet. Delicious smells drifted from the buffet at the end of the room. Guests filled other tables, the low murmur of their voices a steady background soundtrack.

After giving the waitress their order, Will leaned toward his friend, lowering his voice. "Were you able to discover his name?"

"He's used several, but the one that's lasted the longest is Evan Winston. The guy's elusive. He's never turned up in New York, but we're pretty sure that's the identity of the guy in your photos."

The waitress returned with their drinks. Clay sipped his coffee and set the cup aside. "He's a former soldier and now does special jobs for anyone who will pay him."

"Sounds like a mercenary," Will added, his voice equally low.

"That's exactly what he is."

Gwen shuddered. She'd been followed by a soldier of fortune, a man hired to kill, who would always carry a gun. That probably explained his wearing a jacket during the worst heat of the summer.

"We don't know who he's working for right now, unfortunately," Clay said.

Gwen told him about the businessman she'd seen with Evan at the university seminar.

Will's friend leaned forward. "You have a photo."

"No, sorry." She shook her head, and the conversation drifted to different topic.

She looked around. Was that alcove beyond the nearby circular bar a bathroom? Probably. Drinkers would want a restroom close. "Excuse me for a few minutes, please."

Will jerked his gaze her way. "Do you want me to go with you?" Clay rubbed a finger under his nose and looked away. Will pushed back his chair. "I can wait outside."

"You said no one followed us when we were shopping this morning." Gwen moved to the edge of her seat. They'd stopped by a drug store and a sporting goods store to buy an extra set of clothes for her, and Will had hung around on the sidewalk both times to keep watch. "We know what Winston looks like now, but you told me you hadn't seen him."

"I didn't."

"The restrooms look like they're over there. You can see that from here, right?" Will frowned in the direction she pointed. She stood. So did the men. "I won't be long. Stay and visit with your friend."

Gwen made a beeline around the circular bar. What she found was a service area for waiters, not a restroom entrance. She looked over her shoulder, but Will and his friend had their heads close together. No one was looking her way. She still quickened her pace, passing a gift shop, before finally finding the women's restroom. From here, she couldn't see their table, but she'd hurry.

A few minutes later, she washed and dried her hands and returned to the hall, ready to head back to the restaurant.

A large hand locked around her arm. She tried to tug free, but the grip tightened like an inflating blood pressure cuff. Her pulse spiked. "Let go, pleas?—"

She glimpsed the face of the hand's owner, and her heart stuttered.

Facing her, nearly standing on top of her, was Evan Winston. The hired killer. She'd never looked at the guy carefully yesterday, mostly as a defense tactic, but today, after studying the photo on Will's cell earlier, she recognized his features instantly. She stiffened, and a stab of cold nailed her to the spot.

Will had called this guy a bad actor, a mercenary, a hired killer. With his muscled body he definitely looked the part.

Before she could move—or even speak—he tugged her in the opposite direction of the restaurant, past a crowd of women guests and around a corner into an empty alcove. A couple of house phones rested on a shelf with cushioned chairs in front. The stalker steered her past these and into the corner, and then took up a position blocking her escape.

"We need to talk." He crossed his arms.

Even with her stomach jittering around, Gwen somehow found a calm voice. "Please step aside and let me leave."

"You're not going anywhere," he said, his voice low and full of threat. He braced his feet on either side of the narrow space and reached under his jacket.

She stared at the small black and chrome automatic clutched confidently in a hand covered in scars. A recent cut on one knuckle glowed red. Her pulse escalated, and her throat grew parched. Another chill stalked her spine.

Low female voices, probably women on their way to the restroom, barely filtered to her even though they would be passing less then fifteen feet away. This alcove appeared to be used very little. She'd be extremely lucky to have anyone interrupt. If she screamed, someone would hear her, but the mercenary might do something ugly and painful.

Will had been in the military. He'd know how to handle a man with a gun, but not the tourists staying in the hotel. Should she stall Evan long enough for Will or his FBI friend to come looking?

"Don't tell me you don't know who I am," Evan said.

Should she pretend not to know? What point was there in that? "You're Evan Winston."

"Yeah. Sometimes I use that name." He narrowed his gaze at her and raised his gun, leering. Or was that his version of a smile?

She needed to steer him out of here and toward the restaurant where her companions could see her with him. She started to gesture before stopping. "Could you step back and give me a little more room?"

"Flattered you remember me," he continued, ignoring her request.

"I was busy but yes, I remember you from the seminar my boss gave last month. Now that you look the same." Was this her speaking so calmly? "Why wear a black wig yesterday?"

"It made a good disguise. Didn't you think?"

The wig had proved effective, but Gwen didn't intend to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

He extended his free hand. "Let me have your bag."

Had she inadvertently clutched her bag? She allowed the straps to slip off her shoulder. Impatient, he yanked the bag free of her hands and swung it into the chair behind him. He tapped the muzzle of the gun against her cheek. "I want the virus."

She suppressed her reaction. Come look for me, Will. Please.

Winston jerked his chin toward the chair where he'd dumped her bag. "Is it in there?"

"No." This man had no idea what he was talking about. "It's too dangerous to carry around unsecured. Viruses are microscopic organisms." She slid her gaze to his. This was serious and she had to make him believe her. Everyone she worked with knew their lab was under lock and key because of the highly infectious nature of the virus.

"I don't carry it around. The X-13 virus has no known antidote. There are special protocols for transporting it anywhere outside of the laboratory."

"But you work there. You're in charge now."

"How do you know?" This information hadn't been made public.

"It's my job to keep up with these things." He raised a dark eyebrow. "If your boss had agreed to play ball with us, we wouldn't even be bothering you."

"I don't believe that." Her boss would have told her, especially if he thought she might be endangered. But he'd said nothing. She glanced at Winston's gun and swallowed hard. He'd probably intended to hit on her all along in hopes she'd be easier to convince.

"Believe whatever you want, but I'm not going away. Not until you give me the virus."

She said nothing, but the chill inside seeped into her bones.

"To sweeten the deal, you'll be paid for your help, enough to make your student loans go away."

Shock hit her like a sledgehammer. How did Evan Winston know about those?

"You could pay them off and have enough to buy a nice house or apartment in Manhattan like your lover boy."

Winston had followed Will from the coffee shop, or already knew she was upstairs in Will's apartment. Because of that blasted air tag. If she hadn't been in such a rush to pick up the book and catch her train, she might have realized something had to be behind the way he kept reappearing. Too late for that now.

She gulped. How had he found her here, anyway? Was she carrying around another tag somewhere?

Evan raised an eyebrow. "So how about it?"

"Nothing you can pay me would be enough." If the virus left the lab, it could spread and wipe out many people—within days. She couldn't allow that to happen. "I could even go to jail."

"I doubt that." He braced his free hand on the back of the chair with her tote. "Come on, we're leaving now."

No way was she going anywhere with this guy. She needed to get away from him without getting shot. Would that really happen? Would Winston discharge his gun in the hotel? He was an ex-soldier. He'd been in war zones. He wouldn't let his surroundings deter him from violence.

Her hands started shaking, and she hugged herself quickly to hide her fear. Don't let him get to you. Keep stalling him. "I have to have a reason to open the lab doors."

"Invent one. Think of the money. You would never have to take another commuter train home."

He had been at the train station! No, Will would have seen him.

But maybe the driver of the mysterious black SUV outside her apartment was part of the ‘us' Winston mentioned. Maybe they both knew where she lived. "That's not the issue. I'm not go?—"

Voices neared outside in the hall. He slapped his hand over her mouth. "Shut up. We're wasting time." He raised his brows. "Are you going to be quiet?"

At least until she could escape. She nodded.

"Now, we're going downstairs. A car is waiting to take us to your lab." Winston jabbed the gun into her side, impatient. "Unless you want to be shot, you're going to stay quiet, walk in front of me, go down the escalator and out to the curb. Get in the open car door."

"Or else?" She stalled one more time. She had no idea how long they'd been talking, but Will should be worried by now. He wouldn't see her, though. They could reach the escalators without passing the café.

"Don't tempt me because you'll be sorry."

In one way or the other. She had no doubt that once he got the virus, he'd kill her. There'd be no reason to let her live. She reached for her tote, but he yanked the bag up first. "I'll take this."

Guests filled the main corridor outside. Winston kept a hand clamped to her arm and the gun at her back. Maybe when they passed the restrooms, she could duck inside?

The hand on her arm tightened and a harsh whisper close to her ear said, "Don't even think about it."

Tourists flowed past them, and Evan led her toward the escalators that would take them downstairs. A swarm of teens flooded off the up escalator and smacked into him, knocking him off balance.

The escalator would take her down, but he'd come running after her if she didn't incapacitate him somehow. Now.

Her kick went awry. She slipped and went tumbling down the moving stairs.

Shouts and yelling came from above but she could only lie at the bottom, stunned.

When she regained her breath, Will was crouching over her. His fingers lifting her chin. "You're bleeding."

He handed over the white handkerchief from his hip pocket. She grabbed his arm. "Evan Winston's still here. He's got a gun."