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HOPE WALKED STIFFLYtoward the entrance, the gun tucked beneath her flowing silk shirt. The glass doors of the bank were only yards away, still opening and closing as people walked in and out. The silent alarm had not been tripped, or the doors would have slammed shut immediately, the bulletproof screens at the crowded counters flying up to the ceiling.

It was too late now to hope of getting the Spellings’ savings. She’d have to settle for the yacht. If she could get into international waters before the police figured out where she was, she’d be fine. There would always be other couples to scam. Right now she was in flight mode. All that mattered was getting away.

She walked across the bank foyer to the doors. Hope didn’t count on Ken’s blood having run so quickly from his wounds in Yim’s office. As Hope walked toward freedom, her stolen high heels left a series of red triangles in her wake on the huge white marble tiles. Hope looked up just as the teller at the end of the row noticed them, her frown deepening as she tried to work out how the customer could have walked in red paint inside the bank.

The two women’s eyes met just as Hope reached the door.

“Excuse me, miss,” the teller called. “Miss!”

Hope turned and ran.

She fitted through the glass doors as they snapped shut just at the last second, the edges catching her shirt, tearing the soft fabric. The crowd parted as she waved the gun in the air.

“Get out of the way! Move!”

There was a taxi on the corner. Perfect timing. Hope was going to make it through this. She was going to see that sunrise on the ocean. No one was going to stop her.