There were footsteps heading down. A single pair. If it were an employee, Julien would have expected to hear either the rapid clomps of someone in a hurry, or the leisurely yet purposeful taps of a person trying to waste a little time between tasks.
These steps were light, with no rhythm to them at all.
Step. Stop. Step-step. Stop. Step. Step. Step. Stop.
When the footsteps reached the landing for the first basement level, they paused. For a long moment, nothing happened, then the door opened. Noise from the considerably more active floor leaked into the stairwell for about five seconds before being cut off by the door closing again.
Steps once more. Heading toward the bottom now. As soon as they reached the midway landing, the person would be able to see Julien.
Careful not to make a sound, Julien let himself back out into the lower basement, then concealed himself around the side of a humming metal container that was riveted to the floor. Keeping as close to the front end as possible, he listened for the door.
Though he heard nothing, he suddenly had the sense he was no longer alone. Whoever had been in the stairwell had come into the basement without making a sound.
But where were they? Just inside the door? Already moving off? Where?
Merde!
Merde, merde, merde, merde, merde!
Reluctantly, he leaned forward to take a look.
The spotter was there, all right. Only he wasn’t just inside the door, or walking away. He was standing three feet on the other side of the metal box, looking right at Julien.
Julien pulled his head back as the man’s fist flew out. It glanced off the top of his ear but did no real damage.
There was no exit behind him, just a narrow space hemmed in by the metal containers. Heading in that direction would surely get him killed. He held his position until he caught the first glimpse of movement, then he rushed forward, charging like a bull.
The spotter tried to get out of the way, but Julien caught him in the ribs, lifting him off his feet and slamming him against the wall. More times than not, that would have been all it took. Julien’s bulk and strength rendered most of his opponents useless.
To his dismay, the spotter was not one of those people. Even as the man’s body was being smashed between the wall and Julien’s shoulder, he grabbed Julien’s long hair and pulled it back as hard as he could. With a groan, Julien was forced to tilt his head back just enough so that the spotter could whack Julien in the cheek.
As Julien twisted away in pain, the man pushed in the other direction and broke free.
Julien reached out, trying to grab the back of the spotter’s shirt, but missed. The man ran down the narrow hallway, and Julien took off after him. The guy was smaller and quicker on his feet, so the gap between them increased.
Desperate, Julien burst forward, attempting to regain lost ground. When he reached a point only a few feet back, he grasped at the man again, this time latching on to the guy’s shirt.
As the spotter tried to turn down an intersecting corridor, Julien yanked on his shirt, pulling him backward.
Chaos took over as the two men collided, their feet tangling together. With a loud thud, they crashed to the floor.
Since Julien was on the bottom, he hit hardest, his head bouncing off the concrete. In a daze, he barely felt it when the spotter hit him in the head.
The second hit, he didn’t feel at all.
CHAPTER 37
Julien, where the hell are you? Mila wondered.
He’d said he would be right back, but ten minutes was not what she considered right back.
What should she do? Stay? See if he needed help? Make a run for it?
What?
Three more minutes, she decided. Three more minutes and if he’s not back, I’ll go look for him.
And if you don’t find him?
She stared into the darkness, and whispered, “Then I run.”
She began counting off the seconds in her head, each tick bringing growing certainty that something horrible had happened to him.
Sixty-eight. Sixty-nine. Seventy.
That he might even be dead.
One twenty-nine. One thirty. One thirty-one. One thirty-two.
That she would never see him again.
One forty-five. One forty A foot scraped against the concrete right outside the door.
“Julien?” Her lips moved, but no sound left her throat.
The knob turned slowly until it could move no more, and the door opened.
Squinting at the entrance, she instantly knew it wasn’t Julien. There were two people, and neither the shape of her old boyfriend.
“Huh,” one of the shadows said, surprised but not surprised.
As they moved into the room, one of them leaned over, flicked on the light, and shut the door.
She had never seen these men before, but she was sure they were her assassins. The shorter of the two hung back closer to the door. The tall one kept coming until he was only a few feet away from Mila. As he looked down at her, he smirked.
“Mila Voss,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Pain shot through Julien’s head as he tried to open his eyes. He had no sense of where he was or what had happened. For all he knew he’d drunk far too much and was now paying the price. But the bed he was lying on was hard, hard as…
Concrete.
His eyes opened all the way. He looked up. He was in the narrow space between two large metal boxes.
A factory? What was I doing?
With panic, it all came rushing back. Las Vegas. The hotel basement. The spotter he’d fought.
Mila!
As he jumped to his feet, his head began to swim and everything went slightly out of focus. He jammed his hands against the metal walls, and willed his balance to return.
Mila.
He staggered out from between the boxes and found himself in the same corridor where the fight had taken place. Apparently after the other man had pounded him into unconsciousness, he’d dragged Julien out of the way.
Julien headed for the closet where he’d left Mila. Small steps at first, but growing longer and faster with each stride. He ignored the pounding in his head, and squeezed his eyes so that his vision was clearer.
He took one wrong turn, but quickly corrected himself.
Though in his gut he felt he might already be too late, his head refused to even consider it.
He had to get to her.
He started to run.
“I believe your instructions stated that you were to go to Planet Hollywood,” the tall one said. “This isn’t Planet Hollywood.”
Mila kept her mouth shut.
As the man reached under his suit jacket, she could see a gun in the holster under his arm, but instead of grabbing it, he pulled out a small box from his pocket. “I can understand your reluctance, especially since you seem to have realized what was waiting for you.” He opened the box. Inside was a ring. He pulled it out and slipped it on his left index finger. “I am curious, though, how did you find out? It wasn’t until you arrived here, was it? Otherwise you would have never come.”
He looked at her, waiting, but again she said nothing.
“I’m guessing it was your friend who was down here with you. The one who got into a fight with my colleague here? He didn’t win, by the way. He’s the one who warned you, isn’t he?”
Julien. Oh, God. Is he…is he…
“Or was it the one in the car that picked you up at the airport? I know they weren’t the same person. The one who lost the fight had been following Conner from the airport.” As he gestured to the man behind him, she noticed that something was sticking out of the bottom of the ring that looked very much like a needle. “Your friend thought he was being very tricky and that Conner didn’t see him. Fortunately for us, that wasn’t the case.”
She wanted to yell. She wanted to kick this guy in the balls. She wanted to rip his tongue out and shove it down his throat. But she stayed where she was and kept her mouth shut.