The phone rang.

She looked at him, fear radiating from her eyes.

He held up his hand, let it ring five times, then picked it up.

“Yeah, what the hell you want?”

The only sound from the wire was a gentle click.

“Wrong number,” Bolan said, and hung up. He watched her. “You feeling better?”

She nodded.

“Isn’t there someone you can call and go visit for a couple of days?”

“I’ve only been in town three weeks. I don’t know anyone here that well.”

“How about a motel? For you alone? Look, I’m the one who caused part of the problem. Let me pay for two nights at a hotel for you. I’d feel better.”

She shook her head. “No, I promised myself I wasn’t going to run away from anything else. A guy wanted to marry me in Iowa. He was a ‘fine catch,’ my parents said. I liked him, but everything was so dull! So I ran away from him and my folks. But now I’m through with running.”

Bolan checked his watch. It was slightly after 3:00 a.m. The goons should have been here by now if they were coming. He stood up. “Keep your door locked and bolted. If anyone knocks, dial the police emergency number. Promise?”

She nodded.

“I better go. Let me have your phone number so I can call you tomorrow and make sure you’re all right.” He memorized the number on the phone.

At the door she crooked her finger at him, hugged him, then kissed him softly on the cheek.

“Thank you very much, Mack. I don’t know what I’d have done without you tonight. Please call tomorrow about noon. I come home for lunch.” She smiled, tired but still animated. “Maybe... maybe the next time you come calling, I’ll be better company.”

Bolan smiled. “Lock the door.” He stepped into the hall and waited until he heard the bolt slide in place. He went downstairs and moved his car so he could watch her second-floor apartment and the closest steps leading up to it. He did not need any sleep for a few more hours.