~ SASHA ~

A heavy pounding at the front door of the apartment chased them out the locked door at the end of the hall to a central stairwell that serviced apartments on all levels. Zev didn't even hesitate, just ran through the door and started up the staircase that hit a landing then doubled back on itself again and again.

Her heart was singing—and pounding far too hard.

Zev was here! And he was touching her. And… and someone was chasing them. Someone he was afraid of. Concentrating on not tripping on the stairs, she glanced at him from the side of her eye and her stomach flipped over.

He'd yanked off the beanie and shoved it into his back pocket so his hair had fallen over his forehead in tousled waves that bounced and waved merrily at her, as if celebrating their freedom from the hat. But his face… his face was a mask of intense concentration. Tension drew lines at the side of his beautiful mouth and pulled his eyes tight. His jaw thrust forward slightly like he was resisting something—or someone—and his eyes darted up and down, left and right, as if he scanned, measured, and discounted every inch of what he saw in a heartbeat.

He took the stairs two at a time with an easy grace that, in other circumstances would have stolen her breath.

Sasha was grateful that part of her resolution to get over him and return to dating had been to exercise regularly. While she'd been diligent at the gym, she hadn't been able to venture into the dating part yet. But it looked like that was going to work out.

Zev was a fast and strong—even bigger than he'd been five years ago, heavier, thicker, and yet… somehow even more graceful, as well. He moved like a cat, though he'd hate the comparison. He'd always hated cats.

At least he used to. He was so much darker, and colder than he'd been the last time she saw him. What else might have changed about him?

He held her elbow and helped propel her up the stairs. Yet, even when she quickly started panting, his breathing remained even and his forehead didn't sweat.

Damn him.

Within half a dozen flights of stairs Sasha was beginning to feel sticky and her breath echoed heavily in the tall stairwell that was utterly quiet except for their footsteps and her breath.

Correction: Her footsteps.

How did he run like that without making noise? Those boots must have special soles on them.

"W-who are we running from?" she panted as they darted across yet another landing.

"My colleagues," he said darkly.

As they began up the next flight of stairs, he leaned over the railing without slowing, then cursed.

"What is—"

A strange noise, a pop and a ping, and the wooden railing splintered right where he'd leaned over a second earlier.

It took a step for Sasha to realize that someone had just shot at him.

She sucked in a breath to scream and without slowing, he clapped his free hand over her mouth, pressed his lips to her ear and muttered, "I won't lean over again. They won't catch up. Keep running."

She nodded sharply and kept running, but her mouth was wide and her breath tearing in and out of her throat as much with fear as the exertion. People were shooting?

"Zev!" she gasped. "Did they hurt Rob? What is going on?!"

"Rob's fine. That guy got in from somewhere else, I'll explain everything when you're safe," he hissed as they rounded the final landing and she could see the grey wall, with a thick door at the top, which had to be the entrance to the roof.

Zev released her to keep going on her own and darted ahead, hitting the door at a full run. Sasha gasped when the door seemed to absorb his impact for a moment, then flung open, one of the hinges tearing out of the wall as it whipped out and slammed against the wall outside. He caught it effortlessly with one hand when it bounced back, and shoved it back again so that it swung, vibrating, then hung drunkenly.

He waited for her on the other side, the wind—stronger and colder here at the top of the building—whipping his hair into his eyes. But he ignored it, taking her hand again as soon as she was through and running around the built-up shelter in the center that housed the stairwell and some kind of maintenance room.

When they'd circled the small, flat roof, he let her go and walked to the edge, looking down and cursing when there was no fire escape ladder. The closest building was twenty feet away to their right, with a fall to cracked cement and dumpsters. Zev turned to look at her, as if measuring her for the fall.

"What are we doing up here?" Her voice was too high, too strained and the wind wanted to steal the words, tear them away even as she spoke them. But he heard, his eyes locked on hers and her stomach flipped again.

There was no time to appreciate the figure he cut in the half-dark, the way the moonlight and shadows played across his face, casting him in sharp relief. Because they were cornered. Trapped. This building was far too high to jump from safely and apparently there was a man with a gun sprinting up the stairs behind them.

Gun.

Sasha remembered the little handgun in her shoulder bag that she'd been practicing with and, with shaking hands, pulled the flap open so she could dig into it. But just at that moment, Zev caught her other elbow and tugged her towards the edge of the building. "Come here."

"What—what are you doing?"

"We have to get out of here."

"How?"

"I can get you out of here, Sasha, you have to trust me."

He pulled up just short of the edge of the building, where the roof jutted out a small square suspended high above the alley below. Did he think they could climb down here?

She peered over the edge, then scrambled back.. "No. Hell no!"