LITMIR.BIZ

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frowned at Lucas, trying to make sense of what he’d just muttered. “What did you say? What will work?”

      He looked surprised. “Nothing. I need to get you out of here.”

      “Out of here? But where?”

      “Someplace where I can keep an eye on you.”

      “I can’t—” She looked down. She had on a little satin pajama set that wasn’t fit for going out in public. Not even at night in the French Quarter. “I need to change clothes.”

      “Okay, but make it fast.” He nodded toward the bedroom.

      Angela swallowed. “You got rid of the camera?”

      “I’ve got it with me. I’ll give it to Dawson to check out.”

      “Where was it?”

      “In the clock over the chest.”

      “In the clock.” She nodded, hardly able to believe what she was hearing—what she and Lucas were talking about. Doug Ramis had put a camera—a camera inside her apartment. In her bedroom.

       He’d watched her.

      Revulsion and fear made her scalp burn.

      “You can go in and get some clothes now.”

      She took a deep breath.

      “Want me to go in there with you?”

      “No,” she said quickly. “No. I can do it.”

      He put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, Brat, you don’t have to prove anything to me. Just tell me what you want and where to find them.”

      Brat. His other childhood nickname for her. Fraught with all the reasons she had to do this herself. Neither he nor Brad had ever thought she was capable of handling anything on her own. What they obviously didn’t realize was that it was because of them that she could take care of herself.

      She shook her head, a deep breath fueled her determination. “No,” she said firmly. “No.”

      He studied her for an instant, an odd little smile lighting his expression, then he nodded.

      She forced herself to walk steadily through the door, but no amount of determination could stop her from looking at the clock. Or from shuddering. Again.

      She grabbed underwear, Capri pants and a short-sleeved top, and went into her bathroom. Lucas had assured her that the camera aimed at her bed was disabled, but it didn’t matter. There was no way she could undress in that bedroom. Ever again.

      She ran to the bathroom, changed in record time and rushed back to Lucas’s side.

      “Ready?”

      She grabbed her cell phone and stuck it in her purse with shaky hands. “What about my things? I’ve got a test Monday.”

      “Don’t worry about that. Right now we need to get you someplace safe.”

      “But—where are we going?”

      He sent her an unreadable glance. “Not far. You’ll see.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the door.

      “Lucas, how did—”

      “No time right now, Ange. If your boyfriend shows up, I don’t want him to see us.”

      “Don’t call him that,” she said stiffly.

      He stopped and looked at her. “I’m sorry,” he said gently.

      To her surprise, once they were outside, Lucas didn’t herd her toward a car. Instead he pulled her with him across the street, where he unlocked the door to the abandoned building that faced her apartment.

      She dug in her heels, the hot fear washing over her again. “What is this? Why are we—?”

      Lucas slid his arm around her waist and urged her inside. “Come on. It’ll be all right.”

      Stunned by all that had happened in the past half hour or so, Angela let him guide her inside. He used the same key to unlock a door at the top of the stairs and then stood back for her to enter ahead of him.

      She walked into a darkened room lit only by one large window that faced the street. And her apartment.

      It was the window she’d studied earlier, fantasizing that there might be a sinister figure lurking behind it.

      Was that sinister figure Lucas?

      Then she saw the table and the array of computers and monitors lined up in front of the big window. Beyond the glass, not fifty feet away, were her French doors.

      Lucas had left the light on in her living room, and she could see everything, crystal clear. She stared in horror as the full implication of what she saw sank in.

      “Oh, God,” she muttered. Her knees went weak and she had to steady herself with a hand against the wall.

      Behind her, she heard him shift. When she looked at him, his expression was sheepish and his cheeks were pink.

      “I don’t understand. What’s going on here? This looks like—?” her throat closed up. She couldn’t even form the words.

      Lucas opened his mouth, but apparently he was having trouble speaking, too, because nothing came out.

      Angela tore her gaze away from the window and looked at the monitors lined up on the table.

      And moaned.

      “Wh-what is this?” she asked, but he didn’t have to answer. It was obvious what she was looking at. There on the screens, in high definition, were her kitchen, her living room, the building’s lobby—

      Her hands flew to her mouth as the meaning of everything she was looking at, everything that had happened, finally coalesced into a clear, cohesive picture. She gasped and gulped in air in huge sobs.

       Dear God, Lucas was watching her?

      “Y-you?” she stammered. “It was you? Spying on me?”

      “No, Ange. Not—not really.”

      “Oh, God. But Doug knew—what I was wearing. How?”

      “Ange, come here.”

      His voice sounded like it was coming through an echo chamber, barely discernable over the sawing of her breaths. “No,” she mouthed.

      “Here. Sit down. You’re hyperventilating.”

      “No, no, no—don’t touch me.” She backed away, pressing her cupped hands more tightly over her nose and mouth, trying to hold in the screams that wanted to escape.

      She glanced toward the door.

      “No, Ange.” He spread his arms and held his hands palm up. “Don’t panic. You don’t want to do that. You’re safe here.”

      An hysterical laugh escaped her lips. “Safe—?”

      She bolted for the door, but he caught her easily and pulled her back against him, pinning her arms.

      “No!” She gathered as much breath as she could, in preparation for screaming, but he fastened one arm around her and clamped his other palm over her mouth.

      “Listen to me, Ange. I need you to stay quiet and listen.”

      She tried to bite him, but his hand held her too tightly.

      “Ange, you’ve got to trust me. You’ve got to calm down. I’m not going to hurt you. All I want to do is protect you.”

      She exerted all the effort she had to pull against his hold on her. He let her go and she backed away, feeling behind her for the door. She knew it was back there. They’d come straight into the room. The room was dark—all the better to see her with, she figured.

      “It’s

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