Before she could finish thinking of die, she opened her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs, a glass-shattering siren that made the Arab jerk backward. Across the street, two pink-cheeked junior leaguers in fur turned to look with naked astonishment. Still screaming, Velvet dashed for the door.

Either he’d grab her, or he wouldn’t.

His hand came up and brushed her shoulder. She lunged past him for the cold thin air of the sidewalk.

She remembered to stop screaming once the door had shut behind her, and turned to look at the two men standing on the other side of the glass. Mr. Julian looked scared shitless.

The Arab was smiling a little. He tilted his head to one side and watched her.

On the other side of the street, the junior leaguers huddled together like pack animals and muttered. They strode briskly off toward a corner drugstore where, presumably, a mobile phone could be had. God forbid they should call 911 from a pay phone. Ooky.

“Sorry,” Velvet mumbled, and started walking. At the corner, a DART bus eased to a stop for the line of minority housekeepers and butlers and nannies. She lunged on before it could escape without her. As she fed coins into the box, she looked back.

The street in front of the dry cleaners was empty. Nobody was coming after her.

That was scarier.

Chapter Sixteen

Robby

Robby waited in the freezing shadows, rocking back and forth to keep blood moving to her feet. There wasn’t any wind in the warehouse, but the temperature kept dropping and the humidity rising. Her bones felt as brittle and cold as ice.

If he doesn’t come in five minutes, I’ll leave, she told herself, and slapped her arms with gloved fingers. The ache burrowed deeper. Three minutes. Three minutes more is enough.

After only about thirty seconds, she stepped back up to the door and banged again, loudly, though he couldn’t have failed to hear her the first four times. The echo rolled thickly through the dark warehouse. Things shifted and rattled in its wake … rats, maybe. She knocked again, harder.

Dumb. This is dumb, she told herself. He’s angry about Velvet. He’s gone off with someone else. He’s—

Jim wouldn’t let any personal disagreements affect professional relationships. They worked well together. It was profitable for everybody. Then where was he?

The street door opened with a rusty squeal, sending her heart thumping frantically. Robby stepped back into the shadows, glad she’d worn black to Velvet’s idiotic funeral, and watched the man come closer.

“Jim?” she said softly. He spun awkwardly, almost losing the sacks he was holding. “Sorry. It’s me.”