He leaned toward her, the expression in his light eyes glacial. "You want to be like other women? Like your mother, the whore?"

He hauled her out of the tub and forced her onto the floor. "Come on then, I'll treat you like other women."

"No, John, I'm sorry. Please-" She tried to scramble to her knees; he knocked her back to the tile, falling onto her, knocking the breath from her lungs.

"I'll treat you like other women," he said again, unzipping his fly. "I treated you like you were special, but you didn't like that. It wasn't good enough." He forced her legs apart with his. "So be like everyone else, Julianna."

He rammed himself into her.

Julianna screamed.

He thrust into her again, then again. Pain tore through her. It felt as if he were trying to punch a hole into her uterus with his penis and hammer to death the baby she carried.

He pulled out, but the nightmare wasn't over. He flopped her onto her stomach and dragged her to her knees. Then he thrust into her from behind, holding onto her by her hips as she tried to crawl away, his fingers digging mercilessly into her flesh.

"You like this, Julianna? Doing it doggie style? My sweet girl? My princess?" He laughed, the sound colder, crueler than any she had ever heard. "Grunt like an animal for me. Be a rutting whore for me, it's so much better than being my special one."

He grabbed her tender breasts, squeezing and pinching them. "Do it, Julianna. Grunt for me. Squeal like a sow-whore you want to be."

Sobbing, she did, forcing the sounds past her lips, demeaned and ashamed, horrified. She wanted to shrivel up into a tiny ball, one so small that no one could see her. She wanted to die.

He climaxed, arching against her, his hands on her breasts tightening, the noises slipping past his lips feral, those of a beast who had dominated its foe.

He released her, and she collapsed to the floor. Her abdomen cramped, a gut-knotting pain, like a jagged blade ripping her delicate innards to shreds. Gasping, she curled into a fetal position, clutching her middle, tears coursing down her cheeks.

"Now you're like other women." She heard the rasp of a zipper and the click of a belt being fastened. "Now you're like your mother. Happy?"

Her stomach clenched, then rose to her throat. She tried to hold her vomit back, but couldn't and turned her head to the side and puked.

He made a sound of disgust, then tossed her a towel. "You'll get rid of the baby tomorrow. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Until now, I've trusted you completely. Has that been a mistake?"

She whimpered and shook her head.

"Good. You'll never defy or disobey me again. Or you will be punished. Severely. Do you understand?"

She nodded. This time that wasn't good enough, and he asked her again. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Get rid of it tomorrow, or I'll do it myself."

And then he was gone.

Julianna's breath caught on a sob of despair, her thoughts racing back to the present. She realized she was huddled into a ball of misery on her bathroom floor, that she was sobbing. Cold and hurting.

John was the man her mother told her he was. A CIA assassin. The monster Clark Russell had described. The one who had killed those people in the photographs, and many others, according to Clark.

And he would kill her, too. If he ever caught up with her.

He wouldn't, she promised herself, using the edge of the counter for support and dragging herself unsteadily to her feet. She would stay a step ahead of him, even if she had to run for the rest of her life.

Julianna found a doctor through the New Orleans yellow pages. She had called a half a dozen obstetricians before she found one who would see her even though she didn't have insurance. The receptionist had explained that Julianna would be required to pay her bill in full after services were rendered.

Julianna's heart had sunk when she learned what the visit would cost. One hundred and thirty-five dollars-barring any unforeseen problems that might require special tests. Almost ten percent of what she had left of the ten thousand dollars her mother had given her. For one visit to a doctor.

But worth it, she decided. She didn't care how desperate she was, she simply could not bear the free clinic. She had taken one look inside and turned around and walked back out. It had been crowded with all manner of humanity, crammed one on top of the other in the hot, grungy-looking waiting room.

In stark contrast, Dr. Samuel's office was bright, sweet smelling and comfortable. The waiting room had been populated by a handful of other respectable-looking women, all noticeably pregnant.

Though everyone had gone out of their way to make her feel comfortable, she was nervous. Her palms were sweating, her heart beating fast. She didn't know what to expect; wondered what Dr. Samuel would be like and how he would take her request.

Julianna shifted on the examining table and the white paper beneath her crackled. Hurry, Doc. Let's get this over with.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose. After today, she reminded herself, she wouldn't need any more doctor visits. It would be over. She shook her head. What had she been thinking for all these months? Being pregnant was a mistake. A big mistake.

The door opened and a man wearing a white coat walked through, the nurse who had taken Julianna's blood pressure, weighed her and given her a cup to urinate in, right behind him. He smiled and held out a hand. "I'm Dr. Samuel."

She took it. He was youngish and almost attractive, with a thin face and round, wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like someone who would be a good doctor-smart and kind. She relaxed a bit, slightly reassured. "Julianna Starr."

"Nice to meet you." He dropped her hand and turned to the nurse. She handed him a folder, no doubt the questionnaire she had filled out in the waiting room. "Blood pressure and weight look good. Urine checked out." He flipped forward a page. "No drinking? Drugs?"

"No, doctor."

"And you don't smoke. That's good." He smiled briefly. "Calculating from the date of your last menstrual cycle, you're 25 weeks, 3 days. That makes your due date May 11." He looked at her. "That sound about right?"

"I guess."

"Why don't you lie back and we'll take a look at how you're progressing."

Julianna did, and he measured her belly, from pubis to navel, manually examined her abdomen and breasts, then using what he called a Doppler, found and listened to the baby's heartbeat. It sounded like a tiny jackhammer inside her.

"Could be a girl," he murmured. "Girls' heartbeats are faster." He held out a hand to help her back into a sitting position.

"That's it?" she asked, surprised.

He smiled again and the nurse chuckled. "You want more? Most of my patients can't wait to get out of here."

"I just…I just thought there'd be…that you'd do more."

He glanced at her chart again. "You're young and healthy. It says here that money is an issue, and since I don't see any reason to do an ultrasound, I won't. They're expensive."

He met her eyes. "You're not having any problems you haven't mentioned, are you? Any bleeding? Pain? Anything like that?"

Julianna glanced at the nurse, then back at him. She wetted her lips, nervous again. "No, nothing like that." "Good. Go ahead and get dressed, then meet me in my office. We'll talk about where we go from here."

Julianna nodded, grateful not to have to spill her guts in front of the nurse. There was something grandmotherly about the woman, and Julianna didn't know if she could have been completely honest in front of her.

Ten minutes later, Julianna was dressed and sitting across from Dr. Samuel.