Hayes slid into Kirby’s apartment with a silent tread, then stopped, his senses stretched out for signs of life other than his own. The man watching outside hadn’t posed much of a problem, though it disturbed him that Kirby had been expecting him. He was proving to be an adept adversary. If the game had been about anyone but Willow, he might have enjoyed this contest of wits.
His gaze shifted from side to side, his nostrils twitching as he tested the air for signs of Willow, while his eyes took in data for his brain to process about the man who had her.
Everything was orderly, neat, completely male. No sign of feminine occupation in either bedroom. He lived, Hayes knew, with his older brother, a widower whose wife had died of ovarian cancer. Amazing the information available on the Inter
