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apartment was on the third floor of a building about ten blocks from the library. She had a small balcony, on which lived many plants during the warm months. Now, the pots contained nothing except dead remnants of the autumn foliage that she’d been too busy to clean out. The past few weeks had been hectic indeed.
    Her walls were full of bookcases and books. She was a great reader. Tony noted the titles ranged from history to gardening to languages to true crime. He smiled when he noticed all the romance novels, including several that had to do with professional soldiers. He’d never told her what he did for a living until today, and she hadn’t guessed. But apparently she had an adventurous nature that she kept tightly contained, like her hair in that bun.
    He noted that she liked pastel colors, and used them in her decorating. The apartment’s contents weren’t expensive, but they suited the rooms in which she lived. She had good taste for a woman on a budget.
    He poked his nose into every nook and cranny of the place, making notes in a small notebook, about entrance, exit and possible avenues of intrusion. Her balcony was a trouble spot. A man with an automatic rifle could see right into the apartment through the glass sliding doors, which had no curtains. The doors had the usual locks, but no dead bolts. The apartment was only feet away from an elevator and a staircase, which gave it easy access. There was no security for the building, and Tony had noticed two or three suspicious-looking men on his way up in the elevator.
    He dug his hands into his pockets. It had seemed like a good plan at the time, but now that he’d seen where Millie lived, he knew he couldn’t just move in with her and start waiting for an attack to come.
    â€œThis won’t work,” he said flatly.
    She turned from the hall closet, where she’d been pulling out a coat and a sweater, and stared at him blankly. “What?”
    â€œThis place is a death trap,” he said matter-of-factly. “Easy entrance and exit right outside the door, no dead bolts, a perfect line-of-sight aim for anybody with a high-powered rifle with a scope. Add to that a noticeable lack of security and a few shady characters who live in thebuilding, and you’ve got an impossible situation. You can’t stay here.”
    â€œBut it’s where I live,” she said plaintively. “I can’t just move because some crazy person is trying to kill me. Besides, wouldn’t he just follow me?”
    â€œProbably,” he had to admit.
    â€œThen what do I do, live out of my car and switch parking lots every night?” she wondered.
    He burst out laughing. He hadn’t credited her with a sense of humor. “You’d need a bigger car,” he agreed.
    She let out a long breath. “I guess I could do something illegal and get arrested,” she thought aloud. “I’d be safe in jail.”
    â€œNot really,” he replied. “Gangs operate in every prison in this country, and in other countries. They’re like corporations now, Millie—they’re international.”
    â€œYou’re kidding,” she said, aghast.
    â€œIt’s the truth. They have a hierarchy, even in prison, and some measure of control and exploitation. They can order hits inside or outside.”
    She sat down heavily on the arm of her sofa. “Call the U.S. Marshal’s office,” she said. “Tell them I qualify for the witness protection program. I can be renamed and transplanted.”
    â€œNot unless you testify against somebody really evil,” he returned. “Sorry.”
    Her eyebrows arched. “Ouch.”
    He lifted a huge shoulder. “So we have to look for a different solution. I’ll take you back to the hotel with me—”
    She flushed and stood up. “I’m not moving in with you.”
    â€œOkay. Which one of your coworkers would you like to put into