THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

toward the surf. The hot breath of fear clogged her lungs. Would he kill her and walk away from the coins?
    No. Not Mason.
    Wading through the deep sand conjured the image of sinking into a quicksand pit. She whipped her head around, expecting a black sport utility to fly airborne over the dunes, ala Hollywood.
    On the other side of the dunes, the sand firmed under her feet.
    Miles of shimmering beach stretched in both directions bordered by the rolling ocean on one side and an endless row of skyscraping structures on the other.
    She turned south into a salty breeze.
    With solid ground underfoot, she sped down the packed surface trying to outdistance Mason’s men, even if she hadn’t outwitted them. They might be incapable of hanging with her on foot, but their radios could always outrun her.
    She passed a group of shirtless old men surf fishing. A loose shoelace slapped one ankle. Way down the beach, tiny people speckled the wide shoreline. None were running towards her with guns drawn so she stopped and squatted down to retie the shoelace.
    Her fingers deftly performed the task while her eyes swept over the beach. She started to rise when a ping sounded.
    Sand blasted up next to her foot.
    She charged away from the surf with the speed of a missile seeking a target and sped toward the protection of the buildings and highway. She hadn’t moved this fast since the last time she’d been in a dead heat finish at a road race. Her heart beat painfully against her breastbone.
    Maybe Mason would kill her.
    Otherwise, why would his men take a shot at her – unless they assumed she carried the coins on her body?
    At the ocean side of a high-rise condominium, she slowed enough to work her way around the fence circling the pool area. A driveway bordered the side. She scampered down the paved path to a connecting parking lot.
    Finding the only obvious hiding spot between a tour van and a late model Cadillac, Angel ducked down to get her bearings.
    She forced herself to take deep, slow breaths to quiet her panting.
    A car passed slowly.
    She raised her head above the sedan hood to see a two-lane road with vacant structures and local retail businesses scattered among souvenir shops.
    None were open for business, yet. Damn.
    She had to keep moving until she found a place to hide. An abandoned building was her best bet for cover until nightfall.
    Three well-done senior citizens picked their way down the sidewalk, a block south from where she hid. From the north, a cocoa-skinned teenage girl in tights pumped weights, speed walking towards Angel on the same side of the street.
    As the girl passed her, Angel jumped out to the sidewalk and dashed across the thoroughfare at the nearest intersection.
    She turned down an alley next to a long, derelict brick building and grabbed the first door.
    It was locked tight. Damn! She ran further down and tried two more. No good. The last one opened. With a quick look behind her, she stepped inside the dark space.
    She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them slowly. With her eyes adjusted, she stumbled through debris on the floor, breathing the mildew-tinged air. Shafts of light pierced through cracks in the disintegrating roof.
    This had potential.
    Noises echoed through the hollow structure. She stopped. Scurrying sounds wafted to her from different directions. The place was probably a breeding ground for every imaginable critter. Domestic animals weren’t a concern, but after her time in jail she had a deep-seated fear of rats.
    Flashes of light beaconed from a door swinging half off the hinges on the far side of the narrow building. She picked her way to the opening then waited for several minutes, making sure the coast was clear, before forcing herself to move again.
    At the rear of the building, a narrow street ran along like a back door access road. A large produce truck was being unloaded at a grocery a block away to her right. She eased to her left, moving away from the activity until encountering a wooden barricade that connected the next two buildings, blocking any exit.
    The longer she remained exposed, the higher her pulse jacked. It would take a helicopter to keep up with her twisting route, but right now she had a deep appreciation for a duck flying around on opening day of hunting season.
    The nearby crunch of footsteps on gravel froze her.
    She started to go, then stopped.
    Which way? Her heartbeats spiked the longer she stood paralyzed in indecision.
    What had she learned in