St Kilda Consulting 01 - Always Time to Die

hands on her hips. “You’re real good at questions yourself.”
    “Be good at answers,” he said, focusing on her.
    The bleak intensity of his eyes chilled her as much as the night. “I’m not expecting company of any kind or maid service or Santa and his hustling elves. Does that cover it?”
    “Wait here for me.”
    “Where are you going?”
    “Your room.”
    “Then you’ll need me. I know I locked my door.”
    Dan started to argue, then stopped. Unlike the people he was used to working with, Carly wasn’t trained for self-defense or strategic offense. She’d probably faint at the sight of a gun.
    He couldn’t leave her alone.
    Damn.
    “Stay two steps behind me,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t talk. If I stop, you stop. If I say run, you run. If I say hit the floor, do it.”
    Her mouth opened, then shut without one word.
    “No questions?” he said. “I’ll savor the moment.”
    Before she could change her mind about questions, he turned and went down the long hallway. It would have been quicker to cross the frozen courtyard, but once outside, the bright moonlight made everything that moved into a target. He’d take the wide, shadowed gallery with its centuries-old Persian rugs, massive dark furniture, and gilt-framed paintings.
    Carly stayed a precise two steps behind, hugging her computer close to her body. She couldn’t believe how quiet Dan was. Her tennis shoes made more noise on the patches of bare tile than his boots did. He moved differently, now. No impatience. No vague limp. Just a kind of poised readiness that made the hair at her nape stir.
    What did he do before he came back home?
    The question was silent. The answer was equally silent, the noiseless stalk of a predator when prey is in sight.
    He stopped.
    She froze.
    He gave a hand signal which meant Don’t move.
    At least she hoped that was what it meant, because she wasn’t going to take one step closer to him while moonlight turned half his face to silver intensity and the other half to black mystery.
    He flattened against the wall, took a quick look around the corner, and signaled for Carly to follow him again. She wondered if it was accident or intent that took his steps to every bit of shadow the hall offered. Then she all but laughed out loud. There was nothing accidental about the man right now. He was pure dark purpose.
    At the next corner Dan repeated the stop, flatten, sneak a peek, and go on. As he moved from shadow to shadow, Carly started to tell him that her room was the next door on the right. Before she made a sound, she remembered how easily he’d closed the sticky outer door of the house. Obviously he was more familiar with the place than she was.
    But he didn’t know that she’d turned off the light in her room.
    She touched his arm. He froze. She pointed to the ragged stripe of light showing around the warped door, then pointed to herself and shook her head.
    He nodded. With a gentle, immovable grip he eased her down behind the only cover available, next to a thick mahogany buffet that was as old as the house itself. Scarred and scuffed, the buffet held old towels and cleaning rags these days rather than heavy silver and freshly pressed linen.
    Dan turned Carly’s chin up with his fingertip and looked at her, willing her to stay where he put her. She nodded slightly. He brushed his fingertip over her mouth, a warning, a caress, a plea, or all together. She was too shocked by the touch and his poised violence to do more than nod again. He moved away from her with a silent purpose that chilled her.
    It also told her that he, too, had noticed the watery shine of fresh footprints on the tile in front of her doorway.
    After a moment he was standing to the side of her bedroom door. It was ajar just enough that he knew it wasn’t locked. Motionless, he listened for any sound.
    All he heard was his own light breaths and a shifting of weight that told him Carly was getting uncomfortable huddled in the uncertain shelter of old mahogany furniture. His hand grasped the cold wrought-iron metal of the door handle. Since there was no way something that old and massive would give way silently, he made it part of his attack.
    The door slammed back against the wall with enough noise to startle any intruder. Before the echo faded, Dan was inside, diving low and to the right, searching for a human figure even as he hit the floor and rolled.
    He didn’t see anyone. Even so, he waited, listening.
    Silence.
    The flow