Crazy Wild by Tara Janzen

her: the map he'd sworn he'd never made, and the absolute worst inheritance ever bequeathed. It was going to be the death of her, if she couldn't escape.
    As soon as they got to the street, she was going to disappear into it. She'd been at a disadvantage with Mr. Creed Rivera so far, but her car was parked just a block away, and he had that weak left leg. One more good kick ought to put him down long enough for her to melt into the shadows, concealed by the blizzard. He wasn't going to shoot her, and she was betting that Bruno and Ernst weren't waiting right outside the front door, not with the cops all around.
    She was betting her life on it.
    “Here's the plan,” he said, moving to the edge of the scaffolding and leaning into the darkness.
    Out of pure instinct, she grabbed for him, her free hand closing around a fistful of his coat. Then she noticed the pair of ropes he'd pulled back.
    “Thanks,” he said, and she felt her cheeks burn. Damn him. She hadn't seen any ropes. And what was she doing grabbing for him? She sure as hell wouldn't have grabbed for Bruno Walmann. Pushed was more like it.
    “We'll ride this down to the main floor,” he said, looping a foothold into one of the ropes.
    She had to admit that it was a hell of an idea, a hell of a
crazy
idea. She followed the ropes to where they wound themselves through a series of pulleys.
    “Uh, what makes you think this is going to work?” She didn't even attempt to hide her skepticism. Right off the top of her head she could imagine a hundred real simple things that could go wrong—starting with them dropping three floors like a couple of stones and hitting the library floor at just under light speed.
    No. She wasn't doing it.
    “These are rigged for hauling supplies. They'll hold us.”
    “No.” She shook her head. “No, I don't think so.” She'd had enough of hanging off things.
    “It wasn't a question, and I wasn't asking,” he said, scooping his arm around her waist. Before she could protest, he pushed them off into thin air.
    Holy freaking Tarzan.
She scrambled to hold onto him, clutching at him, her arms going around his neck, her feet bicycling in the air, trying to find the loop he'd tied in the rope.
    “Stop moving your legs,” he said.
    “But I-I'm not on the rope.” He should have warned her, damn him.
    “I've got you.”
    “Yes, but . . . but—”
    “I've got you.” His voice was quiet, firm.
    And he did, she realized. His arm was tight around her waist, holding her close—close enough for her to feel his breath against her cheek. They hadn't dropped like a couple of stones. They were actually swinging in a long graceful arc. At the end of it, they hung in the air for a second before swinging back toward the scaffolding—and all the while they were slowly descending toward the main floor, belayed by the rope he was holding at the small of her back. She looked up and saw his left arm stretched out above them, his hand wrapped around the other end of the rope.
    He was strong.
    Very strong, she realized—strong enough to hold the two of them in midair, strong enough to carry her around half the night without breaking a sweat, strong enough to take down Edmund Braun in five seconds flat.
    Who in the holy hell was he? she wondered for about the millionth time. And what were the chances that he would betray his country to make a deal with her?
    Damn slim, she decided. He probably wasn't a traitor. That would have been too easy, and nothing had been easy for her lately. He was definitely a professional, highly trained. The truth of it had been in every move he'd made. She hadn't known it at the time, but he'd been in control of the situation from the minute he'd sat down in the reading room. Bruno showing up had just given him an opportunity to prove it. He was used to thinking fast on his feet, taking action, and coming out on top. He knew how to protect himself and others. He was skilled at evasion but not adverse to combat when