Only one.
I mouthed, "One."
Forrest mouthed a curse.Fuck. Although it could have been funk, but I didn't think so.
"You said there were three," I whispered.
"There were."
He turned and started back up the stairs, moving faster now.
Our movement must have caught the attention of whoever was down there, because they also started to hurry, making no attempt to hide their presence now.
Forrest glanced back.
"You keep going," I told him. "I'll deal with this asshole."
He hesitated for a moment before nodding and continuing to trot up the stairs, back toward his penthouse.
Once again, we could skip leg day.
Yay?
I stepped back up to the next landing and pressed myself against the wall. If whoever followed us looked, they wouldn't see anyone here. With any luck, they'd assume Forrest's retreating footsteps were the only ones in the stairwell with them. They sounded loud enough, echoing through the space, matching the echo from down below.
I was trapped between them, a retreating sound and an approaching one.
Nothing I couldn't manage. I was Leif Larsen, interior decorator extraordinaire, I could deal with one paid thug.
The footsteps slowed as they approached. Their instincts must have honed in on my presence.
A paid thug with survival instincts. That could make this more of a challenge.
I dropped to a crouch, watched the stairs carefully while listening to every step.
One.
Two.
Three.
They were close now. A few more steps and I'd see them appear below me.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins. I felt more awake now than I had in hours.
Ready.
Any moment now.
I wrapped my finger around the trigger, holding it out in front of me, aiming for where I thought the top of their head would appear first.
There, a hint of hair, bright silver, followed by a neat bun.
What the?
A flash of a face, then a smile. One I knew, but only in passing.
"Well, hello there," she greeted warmly. "What are you doing in here?"