Page 68 of Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad World

In the back, Rodrigo twisted in his seat to stare out the rear window. “Got a lot of lights coming this way.”

“That would be because I texted our friendly police detectives before we got out of the car and told them to get their asses here as fast as possible.” Noah grasped the steering wheel as they slid around a bend. “And before you panic, thinking I don’t know what I’m doing, I used a program Elle set up for the London office that disguises your cell number.”

“How did you know we’d be out of there before the cops arrived?” Rodrigo said.

“I didn’t.” Noah turned into a darkened street, heading back toward the city center.

“You didn’t?” Rodrigo sounded outraged.

In the passenger seat, Abasi chuckled. “Looks like we’ll be in plenty of time to meet that big rig after all.”

For the second night in a row, Annabelle woke with a scream.

Only this time, Noah wasn’t there to calm her.

Beside her, the bed was cold and empty.

A figure rushed into the room, and Annabelle screamed again. The lights came on, and Violet stood there, her gun sweeping the room.

“It was just a dream,” Annabelle managed to tell her. “Unless… can you smell smoke?”

“The building isn’t on fire.” Violet seemed disappointed to have to holster her weapon.

Running footsteps preceded Rochelle and Katrina, who rushed into the panic room with weapons drawn.

“Dream,” Violet said with disgust. “She’s fine.”

Annabelle brushed her hair away from her face, still disorientated from a nightmare in which they were all burning. She reached for the water bottle on the little shelf beside the sofa bed and gratefully drank while willing her heartbeat to slow the hell down.

“Where’s Noah?” Rochelle asked Violet the question on the tip of Annabelle’s tongue.

The ex-cop shrugged. “He had stuff to do.”

Or, Annabelle thought, he’d been so freaked out by sharing a bed with a woman who wasn’t his wife that he’d run away. She blinked several times, willing the panic residue from her dream to clear. Surely, she was wrong about Noah.

“What stuff?” Rochelle demanded, giving Violet a look that would have had Annabelle in tears if she’d been the recipient.

“How should I know?” Violet held up her hands. “Rodrigo said Noah needed someone to cover for him, so I agreed to watch the video feed from up here instead of in the office. No big deal.”

The sound of heavy running feet made all three Benson Security women raise their guns toward the guest room door.

“Don’t shoot.” One of the triplets—Annabelle was too tired to tell which one—appeared in the doorway, also armed.

It was like having an NRA convention in her bedroom. With two of the attendees dressed in pajamas.

“Where’s Noah?” Rochelle snapped at the triplet.

He shrugged. “I thought he was in here.”

“Maybe he’s going over some leads with Abasi in his hotel room,” Katrina said. “Abasi wasn’t scheduled for a watch rotation tonight, so he went back to his suite.”

“Call them for me,” Rochelle ordered, and Katrina nodded while leaving the room, presumably to get her phone. “Violet, neither Noah nor Rodrigo mentioned where he was going or what he was doing? You sure about that?”

“I didn’t ask.” Violet seemed irritated that Rochelle was still demanding answers.

Katrina returned to the panic room, phone in hand. “No reply from either Abasi or Noah.”

“Try Rodrigo,” Rochelle said grimly.