Thieves In The Night Read Online Free Page A

loops, jerking on the rope to double-check the anchor. A clip of the carabiner into the figure eight and she was ready.
    Before the word go was out of his mouth, she was over the edge and rappelling herself with world-record speed into the safety of darkness. Her feet tapped the window and she pushed off again, letting the rope zing through her hands. She landed in a tangle at the bottom of the cliff. Her mind was beyond fear, and with methodical speed she relieved herself of the harness and tugged on the rope. He was on his own now.
    She spun around and started her dash for freedom, but didn’t get five yards before a large square of light brightened the shadows at her feet. She whirled back, dropping to a crouch as her eyes quickly scanned the awful scene behind her. The library light had flashed on, creating an obscenely large backdrop for the lone figure coming down the back of the house. Even though Chantal knew she should keep running, her body didn’t budge.
    “Let it out,” she muttered. “Come on, go for it.” Her eyes were glued to the lanky silhouette. She wasn’t even aware of her whispered encouragement, or of the cold creeping up around her ankles into her legs, or of the blood oozing from the rope burns across her palms.
    One jump and two or three more feet and he would be past the window. She held her breath, unconsciously rising and stepping toward the cliff. As soon as he was clear she’d run like hell. Then the nightmare of her memories unfolded.
    Both barrels of a shotgun exploded, shattering glass into confetti. Chantal instinctively dove for the rope and buried her head between her shoulders—but not before seeing Jaz slump against the wall.

Two
     
    Glass fell in a brittle shower from the winter sky, and Chantal hid farther under her arm, praying for the cruel rain to stop. Paul, Paul . The name flooded her mind with images, dragging a sob from deep in her chest.
    In seconds it was over and reality took hold. There had been no rope in Monaco, no cliff, no bite of cold numbing her fingers. Slowly she raised her head, and found Jaz halfway up the cliff, twisting and turning in the rope, his body dangling at a dangerous angle. Get out of here! The warning flashed across her brain. But there was another message, a stronger message battling in her heaving breast: Help him. Without her belay, the rope would flow like water through his harness connection and he’d drop like a stone. Once she had run. She couldn’t do it again.
    Using her weight, she tightened the friction on the figure eight to give him a chance, his only chance. “I’ve got you! Rap down!” Her voice echoed hollow and high off the cliff wall. He twisted again, and the rope jerked her off the ground. Chantal gasped for breath and squeezed her eyes shut, pulling for his life, her muscles wrapping around each other until they hurt.
    She touched earth and spread and braced her feet against a fallen tree, hanging like a hundred pounds of deadweight on the end. “Move! Jaz!” Her scream teetered on the edge of panic.
    Jaz was in trouble. He knew it as sure as he was hanging there. He had lost the rope out of one hand and his ears were ringing in two octaves. Cold, rough stone bit into his cheek. At least he’d had enough sense to slide past the window, but where was the rope? Like an answer to his prayers, the rope tightened with a jerk and he swung upright.
    A voice cut through the buzzing in his head. Move , it commanded, and Jaz did his damnedest to obey. He reached out for the rope, but a sharp pain lanced him from his shoulder to his neck and down his arm, cramping his fingers into an ineffectual fist. The ringing in his ears increased, and somewhere, way in the back of his mind, he wondered if this was the end of the line.
    “Move! Move, you crazy sonofa—Move, Jaz!” The harsh cry came again from below, lighting a fire under his survival instincts.
    Ignoring the pain, he clenched the rope with a white-knuckled grip and