Chapter 12

If Cole had learned anything over the past few days, it was that he should stay the hell away from Megan Flynn. After a fifteen-year career in which he’d followed all the rules, dotted every I, crossed every T, he was now holding on to his detective shield by the skin of his teeth. All because Megan Flynn had a way of drawing him in, getting under his skin, and getting him to make stupid choices in some misguided attempt to protect her.

He should be home, relaxing with a beer in front of the TV. Or better yet, he should take advantage of the break in the weather and take his boat out to the San Juans, use his enforced vacation to get his head together. Focus on what was important and not let himself get dragged down by a desperate woman chasing a lost cause.

Yeah, he should be doing a lot of things besides sitting here in the dark, parked across the street from her house like some creep, waiting for her lights to go out so he could go home and get some sleep. But damn her, she’d thrown herself into her misguided mission to save her brother with no regard for her own safety, had put herself in dangerous situations. It was only a matter of time before she ended up hurt. Or worse.

And the need to protect her overrode everything, including any last shred of common sense.

He was hopeful that her run-in with the Seattle PD and Special Agent Tasso had reined her in a bit. Cole had spent the day tailing Megan. Her first stop had been to pick up Devany to take her to breakfast at a diner near the trailer park where the girl lived. Cole couldn’t hear their conversation, but Devany was pissed about something. She slumped in her chair, picking at her food as Megan talked to her. After only a few minutes, Devany pointed an accusing finger at Megan and stormed out.

After breakfast, Megan had dropped Devany back home. To Cole’s surprise, Megan didn’t go back to Redwood Acres. He wouldn’t have put it past her to take the opportunity to go poke around the Slasher’s latest crime scene.

Instead she headed back toward her place, to the café where she liked to work. She spent several hours on her computer and made a few phone calls. Nothing out of the ordinary.

And no visit from the knight in shining armor who had so gallantly rescued Megan from the clutches of the evil police, Cole thought with a grimace. Not that Cole had wanted to see Megan charged with breaking and entering, no matter how big a part she played in getting him suspended—that was all on his stupid ass, and he was kidding himself if he tried to convince himself different.

But it stuck in his craw that Captain America had been able to come in with his money and big-shot lawyer and make Megan’s mistake disappear, all while Cole was sitting in Lieutenant Chin’s offices ass handed to him.

A background check on the guy had revealed nothing—the guy was as perfect on paper as he was in the flesh. College, a stint in the army Rangers with honorable discharge. Now he owned his own computer-consulting company, which clearly provided enough money and connections to help him bail Megan out of any scrape she found herself in.

That wasn’t the only background check Cole had run in the past couple days. Sean’s pending execution was bringing people out of the woodwork and into Megan’s life, not all of them with records as spotless as Nate Brewster’s. Guys like Jimmy Caparulo. Cole grimaced as he remembered the story Megan had told him about Jimmy.

Based on what Cole had discovered, since he’d left the army a little over three years ago, trouble was pretty much a constant in Jimmy Caparulo’s life. His record was spotted with multiple DUIs and two arrests for assault. After his gig at Club One, he’d been hired by a private security firm, basically working as muscle for hire, his employers willing to overlook his past brushes with the law. Megan wasn’t totally off in her assessment, though—turned out Jimmy still lived with his aunt and contributed a significant portion of his paycheck to pay off her medical bills.

Ailing aunt or not, Jimmy was trouble, no doubt about it, and the way Megan attracted trouble like bees to honey…

Right, chump. If that’s how you want to justify following her all over the place and sitting out here in the dark with your thumb up your ass, that’s your business. Admit it. You can’t stay away from her. You can’t stop thinking about how it felt to kiss her, touch her, but you’re too much of a coward to go up those stairs to her and go after what you really want.

Cole slammed his head back against the seat. What was he doing, lurking after her, telling himself he just wanted to keep her safe, when all he wanted to do was go up there, strip her naked, take her to bed, make the world disappear for both of them for a while.

He was so fucking pathetic, sitting down here in the dark, hard as a spike at the thought of her, knowing he wasn’t going to do a goddamn thing about it. He wasn’t being arrogant when he acknowledged that if he showed up on her doorstep, if he put on the full-court press, he was confident he could get Megan into bed.

The chemistry was still there, blazingly hot on both sides, as evidenced by their scorching, near-naked tussle on her couch the other day. And Megan, for all that she tried to hold herself together with her iron will, had so many cracks in her veneer that she would shatter into a million pieces with a mere poke of his finger.

But she’d hate herself afterward. Cole could live with her hating him, but he didn’t want to put self-loathing on the menu with all the other stuff she had to deal with. As for himself… she had him so twisted in knots without even trying. He’d done nothing but fuck up since he’d seen her again, and no good could come from getting more deeply involved.

Which was why he needed to get his ass home, and first thing tomorrow he was going to pack up his boat and head out to Lopez Island. He’d rent a cabin, fish, run, spend the next two weeks getting his shit together.

Sean’s execution was only six days away. By the time Cole got back, it would be all over, and Megan would be forced to move on, one way or another.

He swallowed at the morbid thought. But he could do nothing to save Sean, and despite his misguided efforts, he couldn’t save Megan from her pain.

The light in Megan’s living room went off. She was calling it a night, and now Cole could too.

He was reaching to turn the key in the ignition when something caught his eye. No fucking way. Megan appeared on the landing, her slim form hidden by a heavy overcoat. She picked her way carefully down the stairs, and as Cole squinted to see her in the murky streetlight, he saw that she was wearing lethally high heels.

She minced her way to the car, and as her face came into full view, Cole jerked back in surprise. Since he’d known her, Megan had always gone light on the makeup unless it was a really special occasion.

Cole wondered what the hell she was up to tonight. Even from across the street, he could see the slick red lips and heavily lined eyes. Her usually wavy hair was pin straight, spilling down her back almost to her waist. She slipped her coat off to toss it in the backseat, and Cole nearly choked on the sip of water he’d just taken.

In defiance of the frigid, wet weather, Megan wore a sleeveless dress with a plunging neckline and a skirt so short Cole wondered if maybe technically it should be called a belt. He couldn’t make out the exact color in the dim light. All he could tell for sure was that it was dark and looked as though it had been shrink-wrapped to her body.

He wondered where the hell she was going at ten-thirty at night, dressed like a slut.

A date? With Captain America?

Jealousy churned in his gut as she pulled her car away from the curb. He waited a few seconds, then followed. If she was going to meet someone, so be it. Cole would just have to restrain himself from putting his fist through the guy’s face.

And no matter what happened, he had a sinking feeling that his fishing trip was going to be postponed.

The sound hit Megan like a wall as she stepped inside Club One. Even on a weeknight it was packed with people. She tugged at her skirt and gave her neckline a quick check to make sure her boobs hadn’t popped out. She’d put the dress on and taken it off half a dozen times before she’d mustered the courage to wear it out of the house, worried it was too much. Or, to put a finer point on it, way too little.

But as she looked around, she realized she didn’t need to worry. Most of the women here wore clothes that were equally, if not more, revealing. Megan tottered on her heels as a woman brushed past her wearing a sheer blue top and no bra, having no qualms about showing her small, dark nipples to the world.

Megan, in her fuck-me shoes and barely there dress, blended in perfectly. She gave ay too lle sigh of relief. She didn’t want to attract any more attention than necessary as she did her little recon mission. She did a quick scan of the crowd and looked over by the main bar.

No Talia, at least not that Megan could see. Megan knew the other woman wouldn’t be happy to see her, especially if she realized Megan wasn’t just there to throw back a few drinks and hit the dance floor.

Megan worked her way across the main floor, surveying the crowd, her heart sinking a little as she took in the scale of her self-imposed mission.

It had seemed so clear-cut back at her place, as she’d been tarting herself up like a little girl playing dress-up. After the Web site yielded nothing, she decided she needed to do some on-site research. Go to Club One. Blend in with the crowd. See if anyone recognizes Bianca and can help you track down her roommate.

Right. Now she looked out at the sea of hundreds, trying to figure out where the hell to start.

There was a trio of guys sitting at a table near the bar, leaning back in their chairs, eyes raking every woman who walked by. They would notice a beautiful girl like Bianca. Might as well start with them.

They spotted her a few steps from their table, all three raising their eyebrows in interest as they scanned her from head to toe and back again. They were decent-looking, with their carefully tousled hair, tight button-down shirts, and even features. Still, the way they eyed her and leaned in to whisper to each other made her skin crawl. Megan pasted a smile on her face and forced herself not to cross her arms in front of her chest.

She was so glad this wasn’t her regular scene. And she wondered, not for the first time, what had drawn Sean here in the first place.

Megan felt a stab of grief explode in her chest, and she faltered on her four-inch spike heel. She willed herself not to fall, to keep it together, and forced the thought of Sean out of her head. Lately, if she wanted to function, she couldn’t even think about him, couldn’t let him come to the forefront of her consciousness without completely falling apart.

She threw her shoulders back and sauntered to the table under the trio’s appreciative gazes. She could succumb to mingled despair and anxiety later. Right now she was on a mission.

“Hey, guys,” she said, leaning in and pitching her voice to be heard over the loud thump of music and the din of the crowd.

Three pairs of eyes glued themselves to her cleavage. Megan grimaced and resisted the urge to look down and check just how much of a show she was giving. Hell, the club was dark, and if they produced useful information, so what if they caught a glimpse of nipple?

“Sit down and have a drink.” The hipster in a striped shirt hooked the back of a chair and dragged it over, while his friend motioned to a cocktail waitress. The third slid his gaze slowly from her chest to her face with a grin she supposed was meant to be flirtatious but made Megan feel like she’d been painted with a coat of slime.

She refused the drink but gratefully ton, so wh seat. She’d been on her feet for a measly five minutes and already her feet were killing her.

“I’m looking for information on a friend.” She pulled the picture of Bianca up on her iPhone and passed it across the table.

All three guys squinted at the picture. “Hey, I think I do know her. Why do I recognize her?”

Probably because Bianca’s picture was all over the news, after the police had officially released the information about the Slasher’s latest victim. Their leering smiles dropped when she shared that bit of info. “What I really need is information on her roommate—Stephanie, I think her name is? Have any of you guys ever seen Bianca here at the club? Do you know who she hangs out with?”

They all shook their heads. “I’ve never seen her here,” said Striped Shirt, “and I don’t know any girls named Stephanie.”

Like you really thought it would be that easy? Megan sighed and winced as she rose to her feet. She had a bad feeling it was going to be a long, unproductive night in very uncomfortable shoes.

The guy protested. “C’mon, sweet cheeks, one drink. You’ve got all night to look for this Stephanie chick.”

Megan flashed a smile that was more a baring of teeth and rapped on the table. “Thanks, guys, but I really need to find her. Besides, I make it a policy not to accept drinks from guys who call me sweet cheeks.” She turned her back and sauntered back into the crowd.

A hand on her arm stopped her short, and she jumped as a masculine voice yelled in her ear. “Megan, what are you doing here?”

She turned, shocked to find Nate behind her. But it was easy to see how she’d missed him in this crowd. While he’d stood out at the boho Café Norte, here he was just another button-down shirt in a sea of financiers and wannabe software moguls.

She felt herself flush as his gaze took in her skimpy dress and lethal heels. His mouth pulled tight like he was irritated.

She moved closer but still had to yell to be heard. “I could ask you the same thing. I didn’t realize you hung out here.”

He shook his head. “I don’t. I’m here with clients.” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb to a table in the far corner. She could make out the shadowy figures of two men in dark suits. He gave them a quick wave and pulled Megan to a slightly quieter area of the first floor. “When they found out I set up all the networking and communications for the club, they asked me if I could get them in. It’s just business,” he said, as though trying to reassure her. She didn’t have the heart to tell him the thought of him picking up a honey from the club didn’t bother her in the least. His blue eyes narrowed on her cleavage. “What about you? Are you meeting someone here?”

She didn’t miss the underlying jealousy. She was going to have to set him straight soon. “Not exactly. I’m trying to find out information about someone.” She pulled Bianca’s picture out of her bag and showed it to Nate.

“Is that the woman they found in the trailer?”

Megan nodded. “Her name’s Bianca Delagrossa. She used to come here. And I’m trying to find out if there’s anything that links her to my brother’s case.”

“I know the manager,” Nate said, reaching for her arm. “I can get you in to talk to her—”

Megan held up a hand and backpedaled as fast as her heels would allow. “No thanks. She and I aren’t on good terms. She testified against Sean.”

Nate closed his eyes briefly. “Oh, Jesus, I’m an ass. It never registered—”

“No reason it should have. Her name wasn’t in the press much. But do me a favor. If you see her tonight, don’t tell her I’m here. So, do you recognize Bianca?”

Nate shook his head. “I’ve never seen her. To be honest, I’m usually here in the daytime, before this whole scene unfolds.” He gestured at the dance floor full of gyrating bodies.

“You better get back to your clients, then.”

“I guess,” he said. “You really think you’ll find anything?”

She couldn’t blame him for his skepticism. When she’d come up with the plan, it had seemed so simple. But now the sheer mass of people and thundering noise was overwhelming.

“I have to try.”

“You’ll let me know if I can help.”

She nodded and tilted her face up to accept a quick kiss on the cheek before he melted back into the crowd.

An hour later, the sass was decidedly missing from her step as her predictions about tonight’s recon mission proved true. No one she talked to seemed to know anything about Bianca or a roommate who may or may not be named Stephanie.

She asked the bartenders and cocktail waitresses, who she hoped might be more likely to remember Bianca’s face, especially if she and her roommate were regulars. No dice. She studied the curving staircase that led to the second floor and the VIP area.

Stood to reason if Bianca and her roommate came here often enough, they might be hanging with the high rollers. Not that you have any indication Bianca was a regular based on who you’ve talked to so far. Still, she’d be stupid not to check it out.

As she carefully placed one precarious shoe on the first step, she felt a warning tickle in between her shoulder blades and her heart picked up speed. She whipped her head around and scanned the crowd, suddenly overwhelmed by the certainly that she was being watched. She’d experienced it several times in the last few days, that creepy feeling that someone was following her, tracking her every move.

She laughed silently and shook her head. You’re out in a club wearing hooker shoes and a dress made with less fabric than a handkerchief. Of course you’re being looked at.

Still, she did another scan, but she didn’t see anyone staring particularly hard at her. The table where Nate and his clients had sat was now occupied by a new group. No Talia Vega glaring daggers at her from behind the bar. No Jack Brooks watching her with his cold, impassive gaze.

Then again, something told her if Jack were watching her, he’d never let himself be seen. Her skin prickled with goose bumps despite the heat generated from hundreds of bodies moving through the club. She tossed her hair down her back and continued up the stairs, telling herself she didn’t give a crap whether Club One’s menacing head of security was watching her or not. If he saw what she was up to, so far he hadn’t interfered.

Still, the thought of him watching her from the shadows made part of her want to turn tail and head for home.

The VIP area was located at the back of the second floor, hidden behind a wall of frosted glass. As she approached, she watched as dozens of people approached the doorway to the inner sanctum. The men were dressed expensively and were of varying levels of attractiveness, but there wasn’t a woman who went through the door who wasn’t model-perfect.

Megan ducked into the bathroom and checked her reflection. More glam than average? Definitely. Model-perfect? Absolutely not.

As she was applying another coat of lipstick, a woman emerged from a bathroom stall. She was small with short, spiky blond hair. Megan had a flash of recognition. The Web site. The blonde’s picture had flashed up there for a split second; Megan was almost certain of it.

The woman’s thin frame was showcased by a skintight, white satin top and equally tight leggings that looked like they were made of vinyl. She was beautiful in a delicate, elfin sort of way. Megan knew she would have no problem getting into the VIP room.

Megan waited until the woman washed her hands before she shoved her phone with Bianca’s picture in her face. “Sorry to bother you, but I wondered if you know anything about this woman.” She watched the woman’s reaction carefully.

The girl drew back in surprise, and her lips moved for a moment without sound. “Uh… uh… isn’t that the girl who—” She broke off, swallowing convulsively, her skin paling.

“She was the latest Slasher victim,” Megan said matter-of-factly. “I’m trying to track down her roommate.”

“Why? Are you a cop?” the girl asked warily.

Megan shook her head with a little laugh. “Hell no.”

“You’re a friend of hers?” The woman cocked a hip and surveyed Megan up and down.

“Not exactly,” Megan conceded. “I have a…” How should she put it? “A personal stake in her case, I guess you could say. I have a theory that the Slasher murders might be connected to another murder three years ago.”

“It’s really scary what happened,” the woman said as she took another look at the photo on the screen. She bit her lip and gave a little shudwidth="2hen lifted her eyes to meet Megan’s again. “Sorry, but I didn’t know her.”

Megan sighed and put her phone back in her purse. “Doesn’t seem like anyone else did either.” She turned to go, but as she put her hand on the door handle, the girl called out, “I saw in the papers they’re doing everything they can to find the guy. Brought in the FBI and everything.”

Megan nodded.

“A lot of effort for a handful of dead hookers.”

Megan’s head snapped back. The police had released Bianca’s identity to the press, but they hadn’t mentioned their suspicions that the victims were prostitutes. “How did you know they were hookers?” Even though Megan hadn’t seen more than a flash of an image, her gut was telling her this was one of the girls.

The woman shook her head, eyes wide. “I just assumed. Isn’t that how it always is on TV?” she said with a forced laugh. “Creepy killer stalking and killing hookers because no one cares enough to look after them?” She rummaged through her clutch purse, avoiding Megan’s eyes as she pulled out a tube of lipstick.

Megan moved behind her until she could see her reflection over the woman’s shoulder in the mirror. “Everyone has someone who cares about them. But unless someone cares enough to tell the truth about what’s going on, he’s just going to keep getting away with it.”

The woman’s gaze flicked to Megan’s reflection in the mirror as she smoothed her lips with slick pink color. “I’m sorry for those girls and all, but I’ve got plenty of my own shit to worry about, you know?”

Yeah, I know all about having other shit to worry about. Like my brother dying of a lethal injection in a week if I don’t find enough of a connection to raise reasonable doubt. “Fine. But in case you suddenly remember something about Bianca or anyone else who might know her, here’s my number.” She pulled a business card from her purse and slapped it on the counter. She went to the bathroom door and gave the blonde one last look.

She still hadn’t picked up the card.

Megan knew she should have pressed her harder, but she’d learned from experience with her kids in the system that if someone didn’t want to tell her something, there was no way to force it out of them.

To hell with it. Maybe she should just call the cops and have them deal with it. She could imagine how that conversation would go: “Right, Agent Tasso. Remember how I broke into Bianca’s house and snooped around? Well, I found a Web site for what I’m pretty sure was an escort service which may or may not have featured Bianca, but I managed to crash it before I told you about it. I also found a cocktail napkin with Club One’s logo, you know, the same club where Evangeline Gordon was working when my brother supposedly killed her? And I thought, what a coincidence…” and so on until they hung up or arrested her again for interfering in their investigation.

Nope, she was out on her own, and she didn’t want the woman, whoever she was, to get spooked. And, Megan told herself, chances were if she’d found one person tonight who’d known Bianca—even if she didn’t want to admit it—she was bound to find another.

She stepped out of the bathroom, eyeing the VIP door from across the upper level’s bar area. She stopped at several tables, interrupting couples and groups as she flashed Bianca’s picture. All she got were a lot of head shakes and annoyed looks that she’d interrupted their fun with questions about a dead girl.

At one point she saw the woman from the bathroom slip by her and dart into the VIP room. Megan sighed. Time for her to stick out her tits, lay on the charm, and follow suit.

Cole hung back in the shadows, nursing his beer as he watched Megan move through the crowd with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop. He had to give her points for determination. She was, if nothing else, a woman dedicated to her mission as she shoved that iPhone in the faces of anyone who would pay attention. Taking every head shake, every annoyed brush-off on the chin as she moved on to her next target.

Now she was headed for the VIP area. This should be interesting. Even with her heavy makeup and wardrobe from Sluts R Us, Megan didn’t fit in with the crowd here at Club One. She was too sober, too purposeful to fit in with the kind of crowd that had the time and the means to knock back twenty-dollar designer drinks until the wee hours on a Thursday night.

Not that he didn’t appreciate her efforts to blend in. The heavy red lipstick he could do without, but that dress… It was absolutely criminal what that tight, short, low-cut dress did for her legs.

And her breasts.

And her ass.

And Cole was far from the only one who noticed. He’d spent the past hour watching guys’ eyes glaze over, losing focus on the questions Megan peppered at them as their gazes locked on the soft inside curves of her breasts displayed by the plunging V of her neckline. His right hand felt like it was permanently clenched in a fist as he fought not to slam it into yet another club patron’s leering gaze. And when Captain America had appeared out of the crowd and put his hands all over her, Cole had nearly lost it.

He held himself back, relaxing when Nate returned to the two guys he was with. He tailed Megan through the crowd, making sure she didn’t get herself into too much trouble, keeping close tabs to see if it looked like anyone was actually giving up any relevant information.

While he was pretty damn certain this mission of hers—whatever had sparked it—was a bust, there was always a chance she’d come up with something. After all, she had come up with Bianca’s address before he had, he reminded himself with a fresh spurt of irritation.

This time he intended to be there if she managed to uncover any leads.

Watching Megan from behind as she approached the entrance to the VIP area, Cole smiled as she stuck her ass out and tilted her head back, one hand on her cocked hip as she talked to whoever was manning the door.

Next thing he knew,he had disappeared inside.

Huh. Well, this was Seattle, after all. Not like it’s L.A. or even Vegas, chock-full of celebrities and high rollers.

Yet when Cole tried to get in, he was told no dice, no way, no how. He knew he wouldn’t get in without causing a scene, and he didn’t want to ruin Megan’s night—not yet. If this is what she needed to do to get through the night, to give her a sense of purpose while she dealt with the shit sandwich her brother had served up, who was he to interfere?

And now you have an excuse to question her later. His mouth curved into a grim smile as he let himself fantasize for a moment about some creative interrogation techniques.

Cole found a table near the VIP room where he could sit with his back to the wall and keep an eye on the door. He ordered another overpriced microbrew from a passing server and settled in to wait.

Megan scanned the VIP area, her stomach churning with discomfort. The vibe in here was decidedly different. Welcome to the land of the beautiful people.

Check that. Welcome to the land of the beautiful people about to have sex.

Everything about the room was sexually charged. Older men held court at tables crowded with beautiful young women willing to exchange a couple gropes or something more for endless free drinks. She watched a server who could have been a model drop off a bottle of liquor, flashing a smile when the fat cat she served gave her a pat on the ass.

Megan wasn’t sure, but she thought she recognized a local athlete at a table with several friends. He whispered something in his waitress’s ear, and within seconds she had recruited two young women dressed like twins to go sit at their table.

Was this how it all started?

Couples, threesomes, even foursomes lounged indolently on plush velvet couches. Even those who weren’t actively kissing or groping leaned in close to one another, speaking in intimate whispers over the heavy music thumping from below.

Smoky haze filled the dim room, and Megan smelled tobacco, pot, and other things she didn’t recognize and didn’t want to think about. Apparently there was an anything-goes policy here in Club One’s VIP room, and yet again she wondered what her straight-arrow, military-bred brother had found appealing about this kind of indulgence.

It wasn’t the club; it was the girl, she reminded herself. Then she wondered what it said about Sean that he would go after a woman who ran with a crowd like this.

Maybe you didn’t know him so well after all, that evil, nagging little voice that liked to chime in when she was nearing rock bottom hissed at the edges of her consciousness.

No. I know Sean. And just because he hung out here doesn’t make him a sleaze, and it sure as hell doesn’t make him a murderer.

And he’d never mentioned being up here in the VIP room, which was a world away from the dance club and bar scene going on below. This was an orgy waiting to happen, she realized as she watched a man snake his hand up a woman’s skirt while their female companion leaned in to give her an openmouthed kiss.

Megan tottered through the room, her whole body blushing, feeling dirtier and dirtier by the second. She was at a loss as to how to jump in and start asking questions. Not to mention, the people in here were so sexed up and drugged out, it was unlikely they’d register their own names, much less Bianca’s.

The handful of staff that catered unobtrusively to the crowd watched her curiously. When Megan showed them Bianca’s picture, she was told politely but firmly that here in the VIP room they were known for their discretion.

Frustrated, Megan was just about to give up and slink home on her aching feet when she spotted the woman from the bathroom ducked in a booth near the back of the room. She was with a man, and before Megan could approach, the couple stood and disappeared behind a heavy black velvet curtain hanging along the back wall.

Megan darted a quick look over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching and followed suit.

Behind the curtain was a dimly lit corridor, and as Megan stepped through the curtain, she saw the blonde and the man disappear through a door. Her heels echoed as she hurried to follow, but when she tried the handle, she realized the door was locked. She looked closer and saw that the door was protected by some kind of keycard security system.

She jiggled the handle and smacked the door with her bare hand. “Hello? Is anybody back there—”

Brutal hands gripped her bare shoulders and whipped her around. Before she could so much as breathe in the air to scream, a huge hand covered her mouth, crushing her lips against her teeth as she was shoved up against the door.

Though she couldn’t make out his face in the dim light, she recognized that clipped voice immediately. “What part of ‘authorized personnel only’ don’t you understand?”