* * * *
Anne lay back on the bed, letting go of a little of her tension. The door had just clicked closed, and she heard Nick’s key in the lock.
When she closed her eyes, though, the tension rose back up, constricting her muscles. Joe’s face appeared before her: his mouth ringed in blood, his eyes lit up with insane rage. A monster…
Anne sat up, feeling cold. What if Nick didn’t succeed in killing Joe? What if Joe killed Nick? He would come then for her. He would s***h her; he would make her his own.
* * * *
Nick forced himself to shove the fear down deep inside, to not feel anything at all. Then he opened the door. He avoided the elevator and took the stairs, taking them so quickly that by the time he reached the bottom he was panting, thinking of little more than the sheen of sweat
