Jenna chewed on her lower lip. "I don't want those thugs to keep me from living in my own apartment. I'll be careful and I've got the dogs. I'll be fine."

Sunday, October 9, 10:25 P.M.

She was home. Finally. Driving her friend's car. Shame about her Jag. Somebody spent a lot of time restoring that baby. She could have been killed, he thought, and huffed a chuckle. When he was done with her, she'd wish she'd been behind the wheel of that car instead of her friend.

He watched her jog up the two flights of stairs to her apartment. Studied the construction of the balconies jutting away from the building. They would easily hold his weight and the weight of his kit. He frowned a little. He'd be bulky tonight, but that was the price of a house call. He really didn't want to drag her off to the barn. She was a lot bigger than the others, a veritable Amazon compared to the petite Lorraine and Alev. Samantha had been taller, but so willowy. He smiled remembering how pretty she'd been. How pretty they'd all been.

No, house calls weren't nearly as much fun. He'd miss the extended play opportunities the barn offered. He'd just have to make this one night with Miss Marshall count He'd been watching and waiting for this opportunity for days, even leaving Alev tonight, although Alev was just about gone. All used up. His heart quickened in anticipation. With her size and strength Miss Marshall would put up quite a struggle, so one night just might be enough.

He sat patiently as she walked her dog. Lifted his binoculars and watched her putter around her kitchen. Microwave her dinner and eat it at her dining-room table. From here he could just see the light glinting off the glass covering her diplomas and cursed the fact that from his vantage point in the parking lot he could only see both her and her apartment from above her waist. A lot of good stuff happened below the waist. He tingled just thinking about it.

And wondered if it felt any different killing a smart woman versus a stupid one.

Well, he'd find out tonight.

Monday, October 10, 1:00 A.M.

The bright light shining in her eyes lurched Jenna from deep sleep into instant awareness. The sharp bite of the knife at her throat made her flinch and obey the growled words.

"Don't move."

Quickly she fought past the mental confusion of deep sleep. "Who-"

"Shut up." And she heard the loud ripping sound of tape. Then her mouth was covered and she realized whoever this was either had use of both hands or wasn't alone. But when the light never wavered, she knew it was freestanding. That he had use of both hands. That he was alone. She also knew she owned no such light, which meant he'd come prepared. And that knowledge frightened her more than if he hadn't been alone.

He'd broken into her apartment. And gotten past the dogs. Jim and Jean-Luc. Where were the dogs? she wondered frantically, then forced herself to calm. Forced herself to draw deep even breaths through her nose. Forced herself to remember everything she'd been taught in self-defense. Clenched her fists under the blanket.

Which he ripped away like a magician with a tablecloth. "Now you'll pay, Miss Marshall."

Miss Marshall. Only one person called her Miss Marshall like that.

Victor Lutz. His image flashed before her, his huge hulking body, big hands. Cold, dark, threatening eyes.

Oh, my God. The panic bubbled up. He's going to kill me. I never should have confronted him that way over Casey. Now he's going to kill me.

Jenna, stop. Breathe. Think.

She stopped. Breathed. Tried to think.

She knew her physical capability. She'd never be able to overpower a man of Victor Lutz's size and strength, even with all her training in martial arts. But she might be able to surprise him long enough to get away. To get help.

Jenna stiffened her body, waiting for him to touch her, waiting for the slightest decrease in the pressure of the knife at her throat, the slightest indication he was distracted, knowing she'd have only one chance to surprise him and escape.

Instead, the pressure on the knife increased, ever so slightly. It hurt. A lot. A whimper built in her throat and with it, the panic.

He's going to kill me. Steven will find me, but it will be too late. I'll be dead.

Jenna, stop. Breathe. Think.

A heavy hand covered her breast through the worn T-shirt she wore to bed. Pinched her nipple hard. She jerked a breath through her nose. Couldn't contain the whimper this time.

"Do you like that?" he growled. He shoved her nightshirt up to her stomach and fingered her panties. She could hear his breathing grow harder. Faster. "Pretty."

She couldn't control the urge to close her legs, but he just laughed softly. His hand disappeared and she heard the soft scrape of leather? No. Plastic? Possibly. A bag? Maybe. No, she thought hearing a snap, click, snap, click. Metal buckles, opening up and hitting a plastic case. She captured each detail, knowing if she got away she'd need to tell the police everything she could.

Then she heard another sound, one that made her nearly sob with relief.

A soft growl, this one canine. The dogs.

Then a furor of barking, snarling.

Cursing. Vicious cursing. A sharp cry of pain. Human.

More cursing followed by a canine yelp, then nothing.

"Sonofabitch," he snarled.

Then everything happened at once.

There was knocking at her front door and Mrs. Kassel-baum's urgent voice asking if she was all right, did she need any help. There was the feel of the knife at her throat, pressing harder, then pulling back. And instinctively she rolled just as the knife came plunging into the mattress where she'd lain a split second before.

She heard another curse, then the sound of ripping fabric. Then the sound of him gathering his things and his footsteps as he ran, leaving the light behind.

Blinking from the bright light, Jenna lay still for a moment, unable to move. She put her hand to her throat and brought it away, sticky with her own blood.

She stared at her hand, at the blood. Disbelieving. She was bleeding. He'd cut her.

Then she heard the sound of her front door opening and another startled cry of pain. Mrs. Kasselbaum. Oh, God.

Got to get to her. Got to call for help. Jenna ripped the tape from her mouth, gulped a breath. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, flinching when her feet hit something hard and furry.

The dog. Which one?

He'd killed the dog. Which one?

Oh, God.

She grabbed the phone and punched 911 while she ran to the front of her apartment, stumbling, falling, crawling. She tried to pull herself up on one of the dining-room chairs, but it wobbled and fell, sending her sprawling again. She'd pushed herself back on her knees and crawled another few feet when the 911 voice answered. Jenna didn't wait for the woman to finish her question, just babbled. "Help. Please. A man… just came in."

"Is he still there, ma' am?"

Hearing the calm voice helped her breathe. Think. Speak. "No. No, he's gone." She shuddered, crawling closer to her open front door where another furry body lay just inside.

"Are you hurt, ma'am?"

Jenna felt a hysterical laugh fight its way up her throat. "I'm bleeding. He cut me. There's another woman hurt. My neighbor." She crawled past the dog and into the hall where another neighbor had appeared, a cordless phone to his ear. He was calling 911, too.