Lost and Found Read Free Page B

touched the nice solid surface of the balcony—and a figure rushed out of the darkness and slammed into him. He teetered on the railing, his right foot dangling over the ground twenty feet below. It was only years of living on the edge that saved him.
    His left foot braced against the inside of the railing, pushing him forward and away from the drop. He lunged away from the railing and toward his assailant. It was not a graceful maneuver. In fact, it was downright awkward, but Sam didn't care. It got him onto the solid surface of the balcony.
    His assailant struggled loose from his clumsy grip and Sam felt the air leave his lungs as a foot connected with his solar plexis. He doubled up but straightened in time to block a second kick that would have forever destroyed his chances of fathering a child. The foot landed on his thigh, drawing a grunt of pain.
    There was no time for conscious thought. He was in the midst of a life-and-death struggle. But some instinct held back the blow that would have laid his opponent out flat. Perhaps it was the size of his attacker. The men he'd seen had been average height, whereas this shadowy figure was much smaller. Perhaps it was the fact that the blows, no matter how effective, had not been all that powerful, nor that skilled. Or maybe it was the fact that the figure had made no attempt to call for assistance, as if he had as much reason to keep the battle quiet as Sam did.
    Sam didn't have time to analyze his reasons. He'd learned over the years to trust his instincts. His arm came up to block a well-aimed blow that might have broken his windpipe if there'd been more power behind it. Whoever this was, he was planning on killing Sam. He'd had some martial arts training but there was a slight clumsiness to the moves that told Sam the training hadn't been put to daily use.
    The figure lunged forward and Sam didn't wait to see what damage was intended this time. His foot swept out in a move so simple it caught his opponent totally off guard. His foot hit just at ankle level, sweeping forward and jerking the feet out from under his attacker. There was a quick gasp and then a grunt of pain as the hard floor of the balcony connected with softer flesh.
    The fall knocked the breath out of his opponent and Sam didn't give him time to recover. Within moments, the short battle was over. The struggle was fierce but with the advantage of an extra hundred pounds, it didn't take Sam long to pin the other to the balcony.
    Still not a word had been spoken. Sam knelt astraddle his victim and peered down, trying to make out something more than a dark figure. The light was still dim, and with the added shadows on the balcony it was impossible to see anything beyond a vague shape. Yet Sam had an eerie feeling___
    "Ms. Malone?" The words were a question, seeking confirmation of his half-formed suspicions. The figure went absolutely still and he could feel the eyes watching him, but there was no sound. "Look, I'm here to rescue you." Still no answer. Maybe she was in shock? "Babette?"
    "Don't call me that!" The voice was little more than a hiss, but it was definitely feminine. Sam felt some of the tension drain out of his body. He stared down at her, wondering if she looked anything like the pictures in the paper. The glimpse he'd gotten of her earlier had been from too far away to do anything more than just identify her.
    "Are you going to sit on me all day?" The question was asked in an ill-tempered whisper and Sam gave a start, realizing that he still had her pinned down. Muttering an apology, he shifted away from her, climbing to his feet and offering his hand. She disdained his help, standing up by herself.
    "Who are you?" There was an imperiousness in the demand that set his teeth on edge. Sam had to remind himself that Babs Malone was probably accustomed to giving orders. Lots of them.
    "Sam Delanian. I'm here to..."
    "I know. You already said you were here to rescue me." She cut him off without apology.