Riptide by Catherine Coulter

out and hit her squarely on her upper right arm. She stumbled into

a big Nautilus machine and lost her balance. She went down.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry. You all right?”

He was helping her up, rubbing her shoulder, her arm, looking

at her now with a young male’s natural sexual interest. “Hey, talk to

me. You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“I haven’t seen you here before. You new in town?”

“Yes, sort of.”

He was lightly touching her arm now, as if assuring himself that

she was okay, and she tried to smile at him, assure him that she was

just fine. The other young man came up on the other side, vying

with the first for her attention.

“Hey, I’m Troy. Would you like to go have a drink with me? I

figure I owe you since I knocked you on your butt.”

“Or maybe you’d like to go with both of us? I’m Steve.”

“No, thank you, guys. I absolve you of all guilt. I have to leave

now.”

She finally managed to get away from them. She turned once

and saw them looking after her, smiling, waving, looking really

pleased with themselves now that she’d looked back at them.

Neither of them was more than twenty-five, she thought. Well-built

boys. She was twenty-seven. She felt ancient.

Finally, because she couldn’t think of anything else to do, she

went through the turnstile at the front of the gym. The young guy

who’d let her in wasn’t there. No one was there. She felt a ripple

of alarm. Where had the kid gone? Maybe a shower. Yeah, that was

it. He’d really been sweating.

She thought she saw a shadow just outside the front door. It was

one of the good guys, she thought, it had to be.

Where was Krimakov? He’d said she’d know what to do. He was

wrong.

She walked slowly back to the Toyota. The lights weren’t bright

in this part of the lot and that was why she’d elected to park here.

She hadn’t wanted to park close by other cars, hadn’t wanted to

take the risk of Krimakov hurting anyone else. Now she wished

she hadn’t because no one seemed to be about.

She reached out her hand to the door handle. Suddenly, without

warning, she felt a sharp sting in the back of her left shoulder. She

gasped, whirled around, but there was nothing, no one. Just the dim

light from the lights overhead. No movement. Nothing. She felt

herself slipping. That was odd–she was falling, but slowly, just sort

of sliding down against the door of her car.

Chapter 27

“No” she said into her wristband. “Nobody move. I’m all right. I

don’t see him. Don’t move. Something struck me in the left shoulder,

but I’m okay. Stay where you are until he comes out.”

She sat on the concrete, the unforgiving hard roughness against

her bare legs. She put her head back, listened to her heart pounding,

did nothing, unable to do anything. She wanted to cry out but

she didn’t, she couldn’t, Sam’s life was at stake, and if she did cry

out, she knew Adam would come running. She couldn’t allow that.

What had he done to her? What kind of drug had he shot into her

back? Had he killed her? Would she die here in the concrete parking

lot at the gym?

Now she felt only light pain in her shoulder. She pressed back

against the door and felt something sharp dig into her flesh. Something

was sticking out of her shoulder. She said quietly, because she

didn’t know if Krimakov was near, “No, don’t move. He shot me

with something, and now I can feel some sort of dart sticking out

of my back. Don’t move. I’m all right. There’s still no sign of Krimakov.”

She reached both arms back and managed to grip the narrow

shaft. What was going on here? Slowly, because it seemed the

only thing to do, she pulled on the shaft. It slipped right out, sliding

easily through her flesh, not deep at all, just barely piercing the

skin. She leaned over, suddenly light headed. She believed she

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