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caution she should have felt ten minutes ago when he’d first talked his way into her apartment finally asserted itself. She braced her feet and hung on to the broken door frame with her free hand before he could drag her through. “Let go of my wrist,” she said.
    He turned toward her. This was the first time she had seen his face clearly. She saw details now that she hadn’t seen before: laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, the hint of a cleft in the center of his chin, the shadow of a dark beard along the sharp edge of his jaw.
    He was as startlingly handsome as before, but something was different. There was no flashlight beam to light his features from below, so there was no way to mistake what she saw. There was more going on behind those sparkling blue eyes than she’d assumed. His expression was more than hard. It was predatory.
    “Abigail, please.” He released her wrist and placed his hands on her shoulders. “We’ve got to get away from this apartment.”
    “No, you go ahead. I’ll—”
    “I can’t risk your safety by leaving you here.” He looked toward the stairwell. “There could be more men on their way.”
    “How do you know that?” She inhaled sharply, realizing what he’d just said. “And how do you know my name?”
    Flynn met her gaze squarely. His eyes probed hers for a few tense seconds. “All right. I’ve got no choice. Keep running the security check, and we’ll sort it out later.”
    He was still looking directly at her, but she had the feeling he was talking to someone else.
    “Are you going to come with me, Miss Locke?” he asked.
    Her mind was reeling. There was simply too much to take in, to figure out, to try to make sense of. She shook her head.
    “I should have known you wouldn’t do this the easy way,” he muttered. In a move too swift to follow, he leaned forward, wrapped one arm around the back of her knees and straightened up, flinging her over his shoulder.
    She tried to scream, but the force of his shoulder hitting her stomach had knocked her breathless. Her head bounced against his back as he jogged to the elevator. She hit him with the purse she was somehow still clutching, but the blows had no effect—beneath his loose shirt, he was built like a brick wall. She clawed at the backpack he carried over his other shoulder in an attempt to lift herself up. “Put me down!” She gasped. “What do you think—”
    “I’ll explain everything later, Abigail,” Flynn said, carrying her into the elevator. “We’re using the central car, Gonzales. I’ll need a control override so it won’t stop on the way down.”
    “What? Who’s Gonzales?”
    The doors slid shut, and the car started downward. It plummeted past the other floors without showing any signs of slowing. Just as Flynn had said, it didn’t stop.
    Abbie wriggled, trying to kick free from his grasp.
    Flynn tightened his grip on her legs. “Please, don’t do that, Abigail. You’re only making this more difficult. I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”
    Her fingers latched on to the backpack’s buckle. She braced her arm against its side and lifted her head just as the buckle snapped. The pack had been crammed so full the top flap sprang open the moment the pressure from the buckle was released.
    Abbie went still. She’d wondered briefly about what was in this pack, but she hadn’t bothered to look. She’d known children liked to carry an incredible amount of paraphernalia with them, so she hadn’t found the weight that unusual. Nor had she been surprised that the owner hadn’t claimed it—her classroom was full of items that had been left behind.
    But judging by what she could see poking out of the top of the green canvas, she was certain this pack didn’t belong to one of her students.
    Money. The pack wasn’t full of Pokémon cards, it was stuffed with money. Thick, bundled wads of it. So much that she could actually smell it.
    It couldn’t be real. No, this must be some kind of