When Kat opened her eyes again, the sun was too low in the sky for it to still be morning. She squinted at her clock and sighed when she saw that it was well past three o’clock in the afternoon. Carefully, she sat up, wincing at the pain in her head. But at least she didn’t feel like throwing up anymore.
She sat and listened, but the tiny apartment was quiet. She hoped that Jim had left, but she wasn’t betting the farm on it. More likely the man was sitting out there on the sofa, silent and lethal and motionless, waiting for her to set toe in the living room so he could pounce, like some sleek jungle cat. Kat could just imagine the look he’d give her with those golden eyes: sharp and suspicious. And he’d be right to do it, too.
“I can hear you,” he called from the living room, and she ju
