Tension throbbed in my head as I cautiously peeked over the walls to see shade number one padding through the cubicles to let shade number three in. Taking a soft breath, I moved the opposite way in a crouched run. I was betting my life that the assassins had kept one of their number at the front door and that I wouldn’t bump into him halfway there.

Thanks to Megan’s nonstop harangue about the water on the floor, I made it to the archway to the lobby with no one the wiser. Face cold, I looked around the doorframe to find the reception desk deserted. Papers littered the floor. Pens rolled under my feet. Megan’s keyboard hung from its cord, still swaying. Hardly breathing, I skulked my way to the opening in the counter where it flipped up. Still at ground level, I shot a quick glance past the front desk.

My heart gave a quick pound. There was a shade fidgeting by the door, looking surly at having been left behind. But getting past one was better odds than getting past two.

Francis’s whiny voice came faint from the vault. “Here? Denon set them on her here? He must be pissed. Nah, I’ll be right back. I gotta see this. It ought to be worth a laugh.”

His voice was getting closer. Maybe Francis would like to go for a stroll with me, I thought, hope bringing my muscles tight. One thing you could count on with Francis was that he was curious and stupid, a dangerous combination in our profession. I waited, adrenaline singing through me, until he lifted the counter panel and came behind the desk.

“What a mess,” he said, more interested in the clutter on the floor than me rising behind him. He never saw me coming, too busy scratching. Like clockwork, I slipped an arm about his neck, wrenching one of his arms back behind him, nearly lifting him off his feet.

“Ow! Damn it, Rachel!” he shouted, too cowed to know how easy it would be to elbow me in the gut and get away. “Lemme go! This isn’t funny.”

Swallowing, I sent my frightened eyes to the shade by the door, his weapon pulled and aimed. “No it isn’t, cookie,” I breathed in Francis’s ear, painfully aware how close to death we were. Francis didn’t have a clue, and the thought he might do something stupid scared me more than the gun. My heart pounded and I felt my knees go loose. “Hold still,” I told him. “If he thinks he can get a shot off on me, he might take it.”

“Why should I care?” he snarled back.

“You see anyone else out here but you, me, and the gun?” I said softly. “Wouldn’t be hard to get rid of one witness, now would it?”

Francis stiffened. I heard a small gasp as Megan appeared in the doorway to the back offices. More people peered over and around her, whispering loudly. I sent my gaze darting over them, feeling the pinch of panic. There were too many people. Too many opportunities for something to go wrong.