Run. Now.
RunNowThat was my first thought—was almost always my first thought—facing the prospect of a man with a g*n. But it might be Lyla Bristol. If I was going to kidnap Toby, I needed to be sure Soap Opera Villain was approaching (he would be a Victor) and not Toby’s mother.
Dropping to Toby’s level, I held out my other hand and said, “Want to see how fast we can zoom down the stairs?”
This time his nod was enthusiastic. I grunted as I picked Toby up, then pounded down the stairs with him in my arms. His shoulder pummeled my boob on every step. I didn’t stop at the bottom, but raced on toward the street-facing windows, narrowly dodging a chair in the dark.
“Whoa, there,” I said softly in my best cowboy voice.
Shifting Toby slightly on my hip, I reached for the curtain and peeked a
