High-Risk Reunion. Gail Barrett

move aside.” Frantic, she tried to step around him. He shot out his arm and blocked her way. “Are you crazy? You can’t just go waltzing out there. The guards will shoot you on sight.”

      “I can’t stay in here.”

      “The hell you can’t.”

      “Rafe, please.” More thumps rose from the bedroom door, and her desperation surged. “Let me by. I can’t let him find me. I have to go.”

      He scowled at her for several heartbeats, then hissed. “Fine, follow me. But you have to do what I say. I mean it.” His fierce gaze burned into hers. “You make one wrong move and you’re on your own.” Motioning for her to be quiet, he cracked open the alcove door.

      Relieved he’d agreed to help her, she shot a nervous glance at the drapes. Ortiz must have come for the flash drive. He must have seen her leave the reception with the diplomat and somehow divined her plans. But why bring backup? Why advertise his presence? Shouldn’t he sneak into the bedroom alone?

      Rafe glanced her way. “Stay close.”

      He didn’t have to warn her. Ortiz ran the royal police. His armed guards swarmed the castle. It would take a miracle to escape.

      Rafe crept onto the medieval wall walk. She scurried after, trying not to make any noise. Dressed all in black, he instantly merged with the shadows. Her heart beat triple time as she dogged his heels.

      He strode to the nearby watch tower and picked up a bundle of rope—which came as no surprise. Rafe had always prepared his heists meticulously, calculating every contingency—his secret to avoiding arrest.

      But suddenly, he wheeled around, grabbed her arm, and shoved her against the tower. She gasped. “What—?”

      “Shh!”

      He flattened his body against hers. The rough rocks dug at her bare back. A second later, a guard charged by, his rifle raised, his heavy boots pounding the stones.

      And a wild sound wedged in her throat. She hadn’t even heard him coming. If it hadn’t been for Rafe, she’d be dead.

      The guard reached the alcove door. He kicked it open and charged inside.

      “Come on.” Rafe seized her arm, but he didn’t have to convince her to rush. She raced across the uneven wall walk beside him, running as fast as she could in her wobbly heels.

      They flew past another watch tower, then jumped down a flight of stone steps. Shouts rose from the courtyard below them, and she prayed the crenellated edge of the battlement would keep them concealed.

      But a minute later, Rafe stopped again. “Get down!”

      She dove to the ground, heedless of the sharp stones scraping her legs through her flimsy dress, and pressed her back to the wall. A heartbeat later, the searchlight skipped overhead.

      She struggled to breathe. A siren rose in the distance, adding more confusion to her already disordered thoughts. Why the show of force? She hadn’t done anything wrong as far as the police chief knew.

      Unless he was chasing Rafe …

      But that didn’t make sense. Rafe had planned this job down to the second, even timing the searchlight. How had Ortiz known that he’d broken in?

      Rafe leaned close. His warm breath feathered her ear. “We’ll climb down here. I’ll go first. As soon as I’m clear, grab the rope and slide down.”

      “Slide?” Down a three-story wall?

      “There’s no time to lower you down.” He pulled off his leather gloves and pressed them into her hands. “Wear these. And move fast. We’ve only got three minutes to beat the light.”

      “Right.” Fighting back a burst of anxiety, she slipped on the supple gloves, still warm from his big hands. Then she tugged off her strappy sandals and looped them over her wrists. She could do this. She had to do this. It was the only way to survive.

      The powerful beam passed by. Rafe jumped to his feet, secured the grappling hook to the wall, and tossed the rope over the side. Gabi scrambled upright as he climbed onto the ledge.

      She glanced down, but the obsidian night swallowed the ground. She quickly averted her gaze, trying not to think about the deadly drop—or what would happen if she fell.

      Rafe pushed off, twirled around and planted his feet on the wall. Then his dark gaze connected with hers, and for an instant, time seemed to grind to a halt. And that old sense of adventure zipped back, that heady feeling of excitement he’d always evoked. Rafe had jolted her from her sheltered upbringing, giving her a thrilling taste of danger she couldn’t resist. He’d been off-limits, forbidden. A thief. A man society didn’t approve of. A man who’d made her feel intensely alive.

      “Hurry,” he urged, then disappeared into the dark.

      Bunching up the hem of her ball gown, she swung her legs over the ledge. Another siren joined the first one. Footsteps thundered close by. Knowing she only had seconds, she leaned down and grabbed the rope, her stomach a riot of nerves. Then she sucked in a breath and leaped.

      For a second, she couldn’t move. She clutched the rope with a death grip, too terrified to loosen her hold. Her shoulders began to ache. The night wind chilled her bare back. The rope undulated wildly beneath her as Rafe worked his way to the ground, and it was all she could do to hang on.

      But she had to move. She had to get away from the wall walk before the guards caught up—or her arms gave way and she fell.

      Summoning her courage, she pried her fingers apart. She instantly flew downward, the rope tearing through her hands. Too fast.

      Startled, she tightened her grip and jolted to a stop, badly wrenching her arms. She panted wildly, so scared she could hardly think.

      But the footsteps were pounding closer. She didn’t have time to waste. Slackening her grip, she inched down the nylon rope, sliding and stopping in erratic bursts. Her momentum spun her around, banged her against the wall, and she tried not to let out a moan.

      Endless seconds crawled past. Her palms burned despite the leather gloves. Her arms trembled violently, her shoulder muscles searing as she struggled to hold on to the rope. She had no idea how much time she had left—or how many yards to the ground.

      Suddenly an arm encircled her waist. Panicked, she gasped and clutched the rope. But Rafe’s voice murmured into her ear. “Let go. You made it.” Shaking, her legs wobbling so hard she couldn’t stand, she collapsed on the hard-packed dirt.

      “Run,” he urged her. “Get into the woods.”

      Still panting, she lifted her head. She caught the flash of the oncoming searchlight—and a fresh surge of adrenaline zapped her into gear. She lurched to her feet, gathered her hem so she wouldn’t trip, then ran full-out toward the woods.

      But she realized Rafe wasn’t with her. She whirled around, spotted him still standing by the wall, whipping the long rope back and forth. A moment later, the grappling hook thudded into the ground.

      He scooped up the rope, tossed it into a nearby bush, and began sprinting her way. She spun back into motion, Rafe’s footsteps spurring her on. The searchlight swung steadily closer. She desperately tried to speed up. They only had seconds to reach the trees.

      Rafe flew past her and grabbed her arm. She plunged with him into the undergrowth—but then lost her balance and fell. Branches tore at her face, her hair, her arms. She crashed to the ground, her skin stinging, her breath knocked from her lungs. A fraction of a second later, the searchlight passed overhead.

      Shaking wildly, her heart stampeding out of control, she lay sprawled in the prickly brush. She waited, not daring to move, as the beam swung past her again.

      “This way,” Rafe called softly.

      Still breathless, she slipped on her flimsy sandals to protect her