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ith every stride. She didn't know where she w
me to admire the art. Not when her heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Her breath came in shallow, jagged gasps. She ran like her life depended on it, mo
her shoes skidding on
dows of the alley, searching for an exit. There was none. In the corner, three overflowing garbage cans sat huddl
her, the screech of metal
ere. They h
physics of a climb. Please God, she whispered the Lord's prayer, the faces of her
ng out from the mouth of the alley. The flick
all a few blocks away, the world was a smear of black and gray. She reached out, her fingers searching th
r money from his daughter. She had stayed late at the office, leaving only two colleagues behind. After a fruitless wait for a yellow cab, she ha
er bag, slipped through a gap between the two smaller men, and bolted. She knew instinctively t
ps. His smirk made Layla's stomach turn. She felt the bile rising, the dinner she'd eaten an hour ago threatening to reappear. He exha
. Where is my money?" he growled,
yla stuttered, her stomach c
yla flinched, bracing for a blow, but instead felt a rough finger trace the line of he
te-hot sparks of rage. She leaned for
ver give y
f her shirt. The sound of ripping fabric echoed off the alley walls. L
very minute," he hissed, "and t
filthy han
a blade cold, sharp
st the streetlights at the alley's entrance. Her attacker shoved her aside, sendi
to tell me what to d
ually in his pockets. "I will pay you double wh
s, then began to walk toward the stranger, leaving Layla forgotten in the dirt. The strange
closer, the blur resolved into a sharp, handsome face with an air
helped her to her feet. Layla pulled her torn
e?" she demanded, her vo
place this dark. He peeled off his tailored suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders;
aid. He looked her dead in the eye. "I am
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