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gave his head a shake, tried to focus on something else besides her. The fireplace on one wall, not burning.
    The neat stack of kindling and wood on the grate, ready for the touch of a match. The brass log holder, filled with fragrant, seasoned cherry wood.
    "You'll leave me alone? You promise? if there's anything to he found, it will be in that box. And whatever you do find, it's only going to prove you're wrong about him."
    He looked at her again. The sweatshirt was in place, concealing her lovely flesh from his gaze. Thank God for small favors.
    "Give me the name of the bank, and give me the key, Alexandra. You're not in a position to" -- He went silent at the sound of tires crunching gravel, "Damn, ~,re here. We're out of time." He saw her fear return, chasing all that false bravado right back into whatever closet she kept it in when she wasn't using it. ,"I lied about leaving you alone. You're coming with me, you understand? If you want to survive this, don't argue about it. Now get the damned key and let's get out of here."
    She looked so crestfallen it would have been laughable if the situation hadn't been so deadly. Turning, she dumped a jewelry box onto. her dresser, pawing through a small mountain of trinkets. He saw the key as she snatched it up, and before he'd even extended his hand for it, she'd tucked it into her jeans pocket.
      The car stopped.
    "Oh, God," she whispered. But she never stopped moving. She swooped down on a pair of sneakers that had been hiding under the bed, stuffed her feet into them. She was shaking again.
    Breathing hard. She snatched the inhaler from the dresser where she'd dropped it, clutched it in a white-knuckled grip.
    "Is there a back door?" Torch whispered harshly. "We'd have to go back downstairs."
    He lunged for the window, shoving it open as she watched, baffled.
    "What are you doing?"
    Torch stuck his head out the window.
    "No fire escape? Nothing?"
    She only shook her head, her face draining of color When the front 'door opened audibly below. Then she blinked. "Just rope ladders in the bedrooms. Father insisted on it." She turned to the closet and hauled a flimsy-looking rope ladder from an upper shelf.
    Torch took the bundle from her, anchoring the two end hooks on the window ledge and letting the rest fall free.
    "Come on," he whispered harshly.
    "Hurry. Get out there."
    "I don't want to leave my cat!"
    "You'll leave him on angel wings with a harp in your hands if you don't get yQur butt in gear!"
    She sent a desperate glance toward the bed, where the cat had been only seconds ago, but the beast had gone into hiding: She shook her head, taring a't the open window, then at him.
    "I ... I can't" -- "You damned well better. Move it!"
    Torch heard heavy footfalls on the stairs. Alexandra bit her lip and, her entire body shaking, she stared at the' flimsy rope. Torch took her shoulders in his hands, gave her a shake.
    "You don't have a choice, Alexandra."
    Her eyes cleared a little and she nodded. Then, awkwardly, she climbed through the window, slowly making her way down the ladder.
      It wasn't Alexandra Holt climbing down that rope ladder in the middle of the night while brutal killers invaded her home. It just simply wasn't. Alexandra knew that her reaction would have been very different. She'd have been hiding under the bed, with Max, shivering in fear.
    But something had happened to her up there, something she hadn't been aware could happen. She'd suddenly stepped out of herself, standing aside, quiet and trembling with fear, just watching events unfold like watching a scary movie. And something else had taken over.
    Something stronger and braver than timid Alexandra could ever be. She didn't recognize that thing. It was like an alien presence, summoned to life by a strong pair of hands gripping her shoulders, and by intense blue eyes boring into hers. He'd roused some new, unfamiliar part of her to life. She didn't know how, but she was grateful.
    Enough so that she almost